Disturbing Deja-Vu

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Science Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
Melody is a teenage girl who just wishes she could be normal. But it's hard to be normal when you "see" things like she does. Melody can see the future, in dreams and in random visions. But why her? Who has given her this "gift"? And what do they expect her to do with it?

Submitted: December 20, 2008

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Submitted: December 20, 2008

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I was pulled from my disturbing dreams by the bright light beginning to break through my blinds. Stray strands of my vivid red hair stuck to my tear-stained cheeks. I brushed them away with a shaking hand.

This dream was especially clear, brutally clear. The colors were bright, every detail perfect. The room in my dream was an impeccable recreation of my living room. All of the events of the dream were the same as ever, but the detail . . . .

This dream was the worst by far; I didn’t need to think about it an instant. No contest.


I left my room without a thought as soon as my tears dried and my bloodshot eyes returned to normal. I had to check to make sure. The dream had seemed so real . . . .

Of course, when I entered the kitchen, my mom was there, sipping at her morning coffee (probably her third or fourth cup). She looked perfectly well.

It was only a dream, it was only a dream. I repeated this to myself until she turned around and saw me standing there.

“Good morning, honey! How did you sleep?”

“Good,” I replied. I tried to keep my answer short so that my voice wouldn’t break and betray my lie. It was a failed attempt.

“Are you okay, Mel?” wondered my mom, obviously seeing through my charade.

“Of course.” I rushed through the words, again betraying my untruth.

She didn’t seem to notice this time, though. She was listening to the radio – the news, as always. And as usual, I blocked out the droning voice of the news-woman. I knew whatever she was saying would be depressing. You know, you’d think that the news would be both good and bad news, as the unqualified word implies. But no. I guess if you want to hear good news, you’ll have to skip to the ending of a fairytale.

I hurried to get my breakfast, unsure of how long I could go without breaking into another batch of tears. If I started crying, my mom would surely notice, and she would ask me what was wrong.

And I suck at lying. I hardly ever have to lie to her; I’ve never really had anything to hide. But I could never tell her about the dreams or the visions. Not unless I wanted to end up in a rubber bedroom. And strait jackets aren’t really my style.

I arrived at school early; I’d left as soon as I possibly could to get away from my mother’s too-perceptive eyes. As always, I went straight to the girl’s bathroom, to my habitual stall, to hide until class started. Pointless by now, as everyone in the school must already be aware of my oddities, my random tears or gasps. But I still would rather suffer in private.

I was now pulled back to the memory of that first day, the first time I saw. Before that I’d had nothing but very unnerving deja-vu’s. But this time I saw, my sight turning away from the present world before me and to some other world, the world of the future. This first time, it hadn’t been anything odd. Just a vision of myself arriving at home, to see my mom with her sleeves rolled up, hands and clothes covered in paint from her home-improvement project of the week. But I’d known immediately it wasn’t normal.

And, being a fairly bright girl, it hadn’t taken me long to figure it out. At least, I figured out that I was seeing the future. I had no idea why, or how, and I didn’t know how to find out.

I mean, it’s not like this is something you can search on google, or ask your parents or school guidance counselor. This is serious. And I have this weird feeling that no one else is supposed to know about my power. Whoever gave me this... this gift, or curse, or whatever it is, meant it to be just for me. But that brings us back to the why, and adds another question to the pile: who?


© Copyright 2020 Alice Dwaino. All rights reserved.

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