Death in Vision

Chapter 1: Another Day

Death. None of us are immune to it, neither are we able to escape it. It's a hard concept that I've spent many of my living days trying to wrap my head around. It is everywhere around us and can come in many different forms ranging from plant life to even the bugs beneath our feet. I don't know what happens to us beyond that point, but for as long as I can remember, some cruel twist of fate as it might have it, or some higher being with a sick sense of humour decided to grant me the vision of these deaths. Everything and anything I've ever touched has cursed me with the vivid scene of their untimely deaths. I hate it. It's not useful, I can barely even make a living off of it and struggle to keep my psychic business afloat. I can't tell someone's future or past, I can only give them the details of their deaths, which doesn't make for a very nice exchange. Sometimes I can get away with it as more often than not loved ones are there in the time of death, giving me some valuable credibility information. However over the years in the business I've just simply learned to lie and somehow that's actually improved sales. It's a wonder how vague people can be but still be classed as "accurate." I'm neither wrong nor right but the hopeless-at-heart thinkers still like to believe. If only I were given a more convenient power then I wouldn't get caught in the rain, trip over bumps, be hit by flying projectiles, etc. Instead no, I see unnecessary details of the death of organisms; even with already dead objects I can see the way in which they've died. And being called a freak growing up was never a fun experience. I never truly get used to it, but I've never really had any other special talent, so, you know what they say, "if you're good at something, might as well make money off of it." Thus, I spend every six out of seven days making a very small profit from it. And today is no exception.

The morning sun lashes at my dreary eyes as I have to get up for yet another tiring day of work. My hair's a mess, my face is a mess; I'm a mess. I've had the same recurring dream again that I've had for the past three weeks now. It's more of a nightmare really. I've never ever been able to foresee my own destiny but in my nightmares lately, I've seen myself lying in a bed of pink carnations as they slowly rot away with time and I lie lifeless. My body untouched and ageless but slowly disintegrating away with the passing of eternity as all that is left is my bones. The orange sky above changes cycles at a rapid rate and right before I get turned into ashes, I wake up. Just like that, I've spent the past several nights in a horrible mess.

     I sigh routinely making my way to the bathroom as I freshen up and get ready for whatever the day has installed for me. As soon as I finish I'm out the door before the neighbour across the hall's dog wakes up. Dragging my feet drearily I make my way to the bus stop, yawning nonstop in the cold autumn air. I tip my head to the usual bus driver and sit in my usual seat, completing my usual rituals of the day. I pull out the notebook from my bag and start scribbling in the details of my dream. Normally, they are full of some useful content that can be deciphered, but lately I have no clue as to what it all means.

     Before I can dig any deeper into it, an old lady, -no younger than 60 I'd say- breaks the silence and decides to sit next to me. I may appear rude or uncomfortable, but trying my best to make no contact with her is difficult. This bus is old and rattles a lot, not to mention couldn't hold much more than 15 people. Well not comfortably anyway. Right now I can't be bothered with another vision of some poor old lady's death. I just can't wait until this ride is over I grumble in my thoughts.

     "It's a bit chilly today isn't it?" The lady asks looking forward after a few minutes of blissful silence. I take a glance from the edge of my jacket to clarify her voice.
     "Yeah, it is a bit..." I mumble trying to close the conversational rift.
     "So where are you off to on a day like this?"
     "To work." I add desperately trying to stop the noise.
     "I meant place dear," she laughs. "I hate to be a bother, but would you be able to help me with my bag when I have to get off. My arm is feeling a little stiff in this weather."
     Damn old ladies and their sweet demeanour, there is no way I can say no now. I agree with a slight nod as she smiles.