Brent Johnson II

Try it the next time you get a chance. Engage someone with conversation—wife, brother, whomever—and really get them going. Make sure they're talking when you walk out of the room. It's probably best to ask an open-ended question before leaving. "By the way, what did you think of that [Insert Film]?" — Something like that, nothing that allows a quick answer. Ever since I first did it, I haven't been able to replicate what happened, and I have a theory as to why, but first—let me tell you what happened. I was talking to my wife one morning in our bedroom. She was getting ready for work, and I had just woken up. I needed to use the bathroom, but I remember sitting on the bed and asking her what was going on at her school that day (she's a teacher). That got her going. She started raving about a famous writer visiting the elementary that morning. She wouldn't stop. I remember getting up and walking out of the room. My wife was still getting dressed—and our son...

 I didn't want to overwhelm him. Unsure of the potential harm or long-term effects, I started with small requests. Material things. "Hey champ," I'd say, resting my hands on his shoulders as he opened his little black composition book. "Think you could draw a mustang? Make it black—no, blue." I'd wring my hands like a nervous addict while waiting for my son to finish, never certain he'd draw exactly what I asked. By then, I understood how his power worked. You just planted the idea, and the rest took care of itself. No need for specifics or photo-accuracy. His drawings were often crude, but the intent was clear. When he finished the piece—a glob of blue crayon streaks—I opened the front door. There it was: a brand-new sky-blue Mustang gleaming in the driveway like it was fresh off the lot. I wanted to stop asking him for things, I really did. His ability to bring drawings to life scared me, not just because of what he could do, but because I worried ...