The man I once knew sat down and asked the woman behind the bar for something to drink. The woman asked as to the kind of beverage and he replied “Whatever, just alcohol.” he knew she would give him a banana daiquiri with one of those tiny umbrellas that they put in girly drinks. He didn't know how he knew. But he did. From a young age he knew things he had no right to know. At the age of nine he was taken to a psychiatrist after he told his father about his mother's affair. He started drinking the daiquiri, idly twirling the umbrella and humming the tune to a song he couldn't remember the name of.
A large, bearded man sat down next to him and smirked. Obviously this burly simpleton didn't approve of daiquiri's as a drink. The burly man placed his hand on my old friends back and he stiffened, as if in pain, and he stood, dropping his daiquiri and not even reacting as it spilled over his recently polished shoes. Wide eyed, shaking with every step, he followed the burly man out of the bar and into the alley where the overly drunk or particularly poor would go to sleep off a night of drinking heavily and his eyes widened at the sight of a long, curved blade – a kukri blade – and the burly man flicked the blade at my friend, killing him instantly. The burly man slowly and deliberately walked up and plucked the blade from the throat of my now dead friend and slowly wiped the still warm blood from his knife and placed it in his pocket.
Six years earlier, in an institute for the “mentally handicapped”, he met me. I am also... different. I guess you could say I can see the future but that's not exactly accurate. I see events happening in real time, as though viewing it from the sidelines. I could never interact with these visions, only looking on, wishing I could change something about the horrors I am bombarded with nightly. The vision previously described is the worst and most recent of my visions and is probably the cause of my most recent bout of depression. I work for a small business that sells patio heaters, and as glamorous as that sounds, I really really hate it.
My boss, Alice, is a malevolent dictator using what little power she has to make my life unimaginably tedious. She spends all her time complaining about issues that are practically non-existent. I swear one time I heard her say ”It's so hard being this good looking”. I want to set that woman on fire. Four hours into the two year anniversary of the business I suspected was created purely to torture me, I was called into Alice’s office.
Worried that she'd found the pictures on my laptop of her head photo-shopped onto Satan’s body, I started coming up with a excuse to palm off responsibility for my indiscretions to someone I didn't like. I walked towards what I assumed would be my hasty removal from the company to find a irate customer complaining that she'd paid too much for the service we provided her with. I knew what was coming next. I was expected to calm down this woman and convince her that everything she thought was wrong with the job was actually a positive.
I knocked on the door politely as I entered and the woman and I both winced as we recognised each other, both of our minds racing for an excuse to leave as we slowly turned red. I knew this woman, Jessica, from my time in the young adult rehabilitation centre, my home for six months until I rejoined the shambling mess we call society. She was in the rehab centre for heavy drug use, attempting to dull her memories of something she wouldn't share with even me, probably her only friend at the time. Jess regained her composure first, mumbled something about dinner in the oven, and ran out. Alice reacted to this the same way she always reacts; cruel amusement. “So David.” (that's me by the way, should have mentioned that, I prefer Dave personally. But I digress.) “How do you know this woman? Surely not an ex-girlfriend? Much to pretty.” Have I mentioned how much I hate her? I knew it would be easier just to agree and get back to work so I just mumbled “yes” and walked out. I spent the rest of the day sitting around acting like I was really busy so no one would start a conversation with me and after 7 hours, I drove home.
I arrived home at 8 and put a pizza in the oven and went to shave. Looking at my face is depressing. Blonde curly hair, brown eyes, so pale I reflect the sunlight and a constant dazed expression that some people would mistake for stoned, I'd say genetics failed me. Also my facial hair grows in really patchy, and I hate that. I shaved my patchy face and was about to check my pizza when the vision hit me.
The fat kid glanced around as though he thought he was being watched and seeing no one, he smirked. Then, climbing down from his treetop perch, he picked up a stone about the size of a sugar cube and found a comfortable spot on the ground. Once seated the boy placed the rock in him hand and stared at it as if trying to shoot a hole through it. He wasn't. The stone started to shake violently and launched itself towards the tree and instead of bouncing off or becoming embedded the stone went straight through, leaving a small hole, and then the stone slowly floated back into the boy's hand. No longer having to concentrate, the boy smiled and whispered to himself “I'm a motherfucking telekinetic”.
While all my visions are traumatising, this was the worst. I know nothing terrible happened but one thing frightened me. I had been awake. “My visions come in my sleep” I repeatedly whispered to myself, out of some kind of psychosis. I also noticed that my vision was long enough that I burned my pizza, so that sucked. I sighed, ate my crappy pizza and went to bed.
Two girls, about fifteen, probably twins, stared silently at each other from across the room, intense looks of concentration plastered on their faces. They would occasionally smile at each other or laugh and after ten minutes of utter boredom watching two teens sit silently I realised they must be reading each others mind. As though on cue, the shorter of the two girls, her brown hair dyed brightly and one of those cool spiky things in her ear, nodded and stood. She backed slowly out of the room, the look of concentration growing steadily more serious. After 5 steps out of the bedroom, the sisters simultaneously gripped their heads in pain. The taller girl, a redhead wearing a t-shirt that showed a reference I didn't understand, shouted “twice as far this time! It's like a muscle!” . The other girl walked back into the room and after sitting back down she replied “still, I don't see how this could be useful”. And with that, the vision faded.
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