A LETTER HOME
I'm sure you will not believe this, but please read it through. Perhaps, by the end of it all, you will see why I've done what I've done.
The first time it happened, I was seven, playing with a fiend in his back yard. His house sat on the banks of the river and we were just finishing skipping rocks when our parents called for us to come in. We turned, and in that moment when I was looking straight at him, this feeling, a shuddering sensation, rolled over my body. And just like that, I knew that my friend was going to die. Not only that, I knew when: two days from that moment.
I pushed the unpleasant and unwanted knowledge from my mind, unable as I was at that time to understand, let alone believe, what had just happened. When the news of his disappearance two days later, and then the discovery of his drowned body in the river the week after, I had already forgotten my premonition and mourned with the rest of them at his funeral.
Some years later, another friend of mine and I were playing when that same shuddering sensation ran down my spine and I knew my friend would die in nine day's time. Memories long repressed about a friend and a river came back to me and I excused myself quickly, insisting I had forgotten some important chore for my mother. My friend and I never got to see one another again, following a car accident, and it was at that point that I began to wonder.
Over the next few months I mused over those two singular events in my life, and through my musing, I became aware of how frequently I was feeling those shudders. I passed by an ant hill and felt it, felt hundreds of lives that would soon be gone. I watched a dog chase a frisbee in the park and the shudder was there marking the dog for just over a week to go. The old man on the street corner, waiting for the bus had just over two weeks while the woman at the supermarket had only a day.
Those shudders were weaker, much weaker, than the ones I'd felt for my friends and I probably would have gone on not noticing them had I not been brought to think about it so much. All the same, I couldn't help but begin thinking of ways that I could use this morbid power of mine for good. I was young, still not yet even half way into my growth spurt, but I knew I would find a way to help better humanity, for that must have been the reason that I was chosen to bear this gift. Such were the ideals of youth.
I learned to focus my gift. Like radio frequencies, every living thing seemed to broadcast a sort of life force signal, and it was that signal that I could sense. And when that signal grew short enough, to within a few weeks, that was when I could pinpoint the moment. The larger the creature, the stronger the signal. The more attached I am, the more in tune to the signal and therefore the stronger reaction on my part. That was why my friends produced such strong reactions in me.
Excitement stirred within me as I continued my secret quest to find a way to use my hidden ability. I was like a super hero, passing through my very own origin story on my way to greatness. Like most super heroes, I had my awkward moments. Forgetting that grandpa wasn't dead yet; digging Snowbell, the family cat, a grave before she died and then having to explain to my mother why I thought her flower bed needed such an adition; and the unavoidable side affect of being unable to be around friends once I knew how much time they had left.
At last, I felt like I was ready. With my precognition about death, I could forewarn people about their impending doom and possibly save their lives. Sure, there were the sic and the elderly whom no amount of warning would help. But there were those people like my two childhood friends who died in accident. Surely if I knew then what I had now learned I could have saved them. I waited eagerly for my first opportunity and before long, it came.
Family reunions, at best, offer free food. At least, that's how they go in my family. As it was, I was sitting at a picnic table eating my way through a plate of assorted jello salads and melon balls when I was joined by my cousin. He had no sooner sat down opposite me than my whole body shivered and I knew he had only a day left to live. And now came the tricky part. How do I go about warning him?
He asked me about the jello salads. I asked him about his health. We both responded with positive affirmations that what the other had asked about was all in fine order. He got a plate of jello salad and I continued to think of ways he might be killed and how to warn him against them.
I asked if he were planning any trips?
No.
Did he live in a safe neighborhood?
Yes.
Working car?
Yes, brand new.
Job?
Just fine and coming up for a raise.
All throughout my interrogation he smiled and ate his jello salad, seemingly pleased just to have someone so interested in him. Such were our family reunions that most times we spent a fair amount of time staring at the walls so we wouldn't have to make eye contact with one another and then be forced to acknowledge exactly how awkward we all were at these annual get-togethers.
We were both really getting into this whole Q & A thing when my cousin suddenly doubled up and collapsed at my feet. I felt like Super Man, having just seen someone fall out of a building right in front of him and then failing to catch said person. My aunt rushed over, along with everyone else, and I tried to explain that I did my best to find out how he was going to die so I could warn him but that I was new to this sort of thing and...well you can imagine the looks they gave me. I figured every super hero has his or her weakness. Mine was interrogation and questioning techniques.
As it turned out, my cousin was allergic to something in the jello salad and I immediately bumped allergy questions to the top of my list for future reference. My cousin hung in there valiantly but when the hospital mixed up their food trays and gave him the jello salad instead of the fruit pie, well, there are only so many times a person can go into anaphylactic shock in so short a space of time.
My aunt had me thrown out of the funeral. She thought I was to blame, that I should have known about his allergies and warned him beforehand. I felt only mildly guilty when I shuddered walking passed her and didn't bother to tell her to watch her step in the next couple of weeks. I consoled myself at her funeral with the knowledge that aneurisms are out of my jurisdiction.
I continued my quest to find and help people, warning them as best I could. However, three arguments, five slaps to the face, a black eye, and a half dozen restraining orders later, I had to admit that I wasn't doing a very good job at helping save people's lives.
And that was when the idea for my business was born. People weren't interested in me coming to them, they had proven that. But what if there were people out there who were interested in coming to me, just to see if their time was coming up? Not a terribly altruistic method, I know, but if I could develop a positive track record, then maybe people would be more willing to listen to me when I come to them.
It didn't take much to get started and, sure enough, there were plenty people willing to pay just to have me look at them and then let them know if they were going to die any time soon. Surprisingly, a fair number of them were indeed close to reaching their final destinations. It seemed to me at the time, and I still believe this, that people can sense when their own time is coming to an end and that was why my clients were so often near their ends. The only downside to it was, I was right every time. No matter what people tried to avoid death it always found them. Perhaps it is as the saying goes that a person often meets their destiny on the very road they took to avoid it. Regardless, I did gain the attention of others but not in the way I wanted.
Police stations are like hospitals, I've discovered. Cold, unwelcoming, and ridiculously high on the security spectrum. They couldn't believe that someone was capable of predicting deaths and so they therefore determined that I was in fact murdering my clients. It took some doing, but eventually, when the last of my clients passed while I was still very much in custody and they couldn't find a single shred of evidence against me, they let me go. Though they warned me against making any such 'predictions' in the future.
So, I changed my name, moved towns, got a desk job, and watched idly as the people around me died. They didn't go any faster than normal. I don't want you to think I was in any way the source or cause for people dying. I was just more aware of it. I'm sure anyone else with my ability would be amazed at how many people they come in contact with on any given day who will be dead within a month.
But that isn't why I'm writing this down. I need you to understand where I'm coming from, where I've come from. I know this isn't the way you'd have preferred to hear from me. You see, I've kept tabs on my family and friends from before, you know, just to see how they're doing, and the other day I was in town and I saw you on the bus. There's no real nice way to say this, but you have until Thursday. I know I probably should have told you this in person, but, well I didn't want to make a scene. And besides, as I've mentioned before, there probably isn't anything you can do.
I love you Mom,
Your affectionate, if estranged, Son
