Your worst Nightmare

The curse must be passed on.

Fear is an emotion, as old as man himself. It is probably the single-most contributory emotion to his continued survival. I never asked for this gift of clairvoyance, nor did I ask for the fear that accompanies it. In fact, the fear disturbs me so much, that on more than one occasion I have contemplated suicide. So far though, the demons that come through to me have frightened me away from that path. You see, I don't get normal ghosts like other mediums, I tend to get the souls of murderers, psychopaths and the mentally disturbed. They don't come to me from another realm where spirits wait in patience for their loved ones, they tend to come to me from a darker portal, a cesspool of deviant monsters, the scum of society, executed for their crimes. It is not a gift that I have, it is a punishment. I have never been a pious man, nor am I evil. I cannot think why I am being punished!

Fear is a torment. It destroys the soul, kills the spirit and weakens the heart. It also courts insanity. It teases the mind with nightmares, infiltrates your waking thoughts and burns away at rationality and common sense until they become mere embers of a once proud and confident fire of identity. Sometimes I don't even know who I am anymore.

My name is, or was- John Bernard Robinson, named after my father, and my grandfather on my mother's side, (he being corporal Bernard Brownlow of the 43rd infantry division). I never met my grandfather as he was killed in action at Caen at the end of June 1944 during a German counterattack. I never met my grandmother either, as she was one of the countless victims of the blitz. My mother did survive the war, as she was shipped out as a refugee to a more rural area, along with countless other children who would end up orphaned by that great conflict.

After the war, my mother went to live with a rather elderly aunt, a spinster with no children of her own. So she must have had a rather lonely life. At least until she met and married my father. My father was a bit of a loner. A drifter since he left school, he'd worked with a traveling fair. More than that, I do not know anything of certainty about my family tree, as both my parents died when I was very young. In the orphanage where I spent my youth, they told me that my mother had died during childbirth and that my father had followed soon after, apparently the victim of a broken heart.

Most of my youth was spent as boys of my age group spent their youth, a little adventure in the parks, woodlands and lakesides in the local area. During one such an adventure, at the local lake, when I was 15 years old, I had a near death experience. It was a warm summers day and a few friends and I had gone to the local lake for a swim. I vaguely remember getting into some difficulty, the currents pulling me down, I don't think I even had time to shout for help. My friends must have seen something though, for I could hear dull splashing and yelling from the surface. I couldn't see anyone though, everything went pitch black.

Then I saw a pinpoint of light that seemed to grow, seemed to pull me towards it, to draw me upwards. I couldn't resist it, wasn't sure if I even wanted to, I just allowed myself to go with the flow, so to speak. At the end of this tunnel of light, a woman stood. She was very beautiful. She had blond hair and blue eyes and reminded me of an old photograph I used to own as a child, before the patron of the orphanage confiscated it. I don't remember where it came from, but I'm pretty sure it was a picture of my mother, aged around 21. As if to confirm my thoughts, the lady spoke to me. She called me by name, "John," she said, "My darling boy. You have grown into a fine young man. You remind me of your daddy, you look just like him. You mustn't fear the gift he gave you, you must utilize it. Find a way to live with it. But most of all, you mustn't pass it on!"

I opened my mouth to ask her what she was talking about, but she raised her hand and shushed me. She said, "It's not your time yet, you must go back. I shall wait for you here." With that, I felt myself hurtle back into the cold black water. The next thing I remember is coming round on the edge of the lake, my head spinning with the strangest feeling of dread and fear, but at the same time, I was overawed by the strangeness of the dream. I didn't have a clue what it could mean. I never told any of my friends about it.