The Power of an Empath

They all stare at me. They don't look, they stare.

But that's okay. I'm not what they expected.

They heard there was a surprise guest that was going to open for Spikes and Shieldmaidens, but they sure as hell didn't hope to see me. They were hoping for a scantily-clad girl with a flamethrower bra, or men in tight leather with guitars. They weren't expecting me, a woman in her thirties, wearing a forest green ball gown and white silk gloves.

They hate me, because they do not know me. But all that will change very soon.

I approach the microphone; it rings with sour feedback, and the crowd shrieks with displeasure. Boos echo onto the stage, and with every ounce of summoned courage I can muster, I manage not to run away.

"Please, be quiet for me," I say, but the boos only increase in volume.

So I whip out my talent. I shush into the microphone.

The stadium goes silent.

"Thank you," I say. The crowd stares at me, wide-eyed.

I call my talent the Aura. A misleading name for most, but I like it. It gives me a solid mental picture of it.

I close my eyes and concentrate. The Aura reaches out from my core. My heart. It sinks and rises over the crowd, and the people breathe it in like air. Soon, I can feel them, each of the thousands of people that stand in clumps before me. I can feel their anger, their happiness...their pain.

Unlike most other empaths, I can divide my mind. I relax, sinking into the darkness behind my eyelids. Like the eyes of a housefly, the crowd's souls appear together, linked at the edges. I study each one carefully.

To the metalhead directly in front of me, I whisper that things will be okay. He's angry, and hurt--mostly from the loss of his son.

To the woman in seat B12, I whisper that she is more valuable than she thinks. She doesn't have to accept the abuse she receives from her husband on a daily basis.

To the girl with dreadlocks somewhere in the middle, I whisper that she has people who love her. A God that loves her. She shouldn't need to conceal her new pregnancy from anyone.

One by one, I go to each person, whispering helpful truths and encouragements. Each person has a weight on their soul, something they regret or something they can't control. I do my best to alleviate that weight, even if it's just for a short amount of time.

When I reach the very last person, I return to my normal self, drawing the Aura back to my core.

The entire stadium weeps.

I bow, and I leave the stage. I can feel that they're happy, at least for now. That's all the applause I could want in the world.