Gift

Would you like to be able to see a future? You could know what will happen to you in a year, two, three. You could know what questions will be in your final test, where and when you will meet your soul mate; gosh you literally could know all your life from start to finish. Does that sound good? Most people are ready to sell their souls to Satan in order to know what is going to happen tomorrow - thirst for knowledge burns them from within. People live in the darkness, they are blind as bats and their life is like a deep and wet cave. They see the world upside down and think that it is how it should be. They see little things and don't notice the main thing.

They dream to see a light and don't know that it doesn't exist.

When I hear about people who allegedly can see a future – or who has a gift – clairvoyance, I want to laugh hysterically. Gift! Sometimes I want to hang myself. I'm ready to do everything to return this "gift" to someone who decided to give it to me. This dude has a disgusting sense of humor.

I can see a future – the future of everyone in this world. I just need to have a look at a person's face – and I will know how he or she was born and how will die. Amazing, isn't it?! Look around and see the dead! Look at a child and know that he will die in the next month in the accident. Or from passing glancing at the person's face to find out that his best friend will betray him, and he will commit suicide. Dubious pleasure, honestly.

But the most terrible thing in my "gift" is that I can't say anyone what will happen to him or her. I can't tell this blond fellow with gray eyes that he must be careful – tonight he'll be killed when he tries to protect a girl in a dark alley. I know that it's his last hour and he's a good man – brave, kind and noble and I don't want him to be killed...

But if I say him about his future, I'll die instead of him.

I don't want to die. I want to live. My gift is my cross. I'm afraid of death.

So, my lips are tightly compressed. And that'll be always.

I'LL SURVIVE THE ALL DEATHS.

But this blond fellow who's sitting in front of me ... he's my brother.

And he will die.

"Hey, Andrian, are you okay? You look like a ghost!" He is smiling at me. I'm looking at his white teeth but through the haze of eyes, I see only blood. A lot of blood.

I'm afraid we will have to bury him in a closed coffin.

One thought about it is intolerable. I want to cry.

But I'm smiling too and answer:

"Everything is fine, bro. I'm just a little bit tired."

"You have to study less. If you spend all day sitting on your notes, you will surely go mad."

He is careful as usual. My older brother.

I see him in blood again.

"Okay, bro. I will follow your advice."

He claps me on the shoulder. Sunset rays in his hair remind blood.

Lord God, help me! I can't suffer more! Relieve me from this cup, it's too bitter for me!

But God doesn't hear me. It wasn't his gift.

This gift was given me by devil.

***

I clearly remember the day I received my gift. I was lying on a hospital bed, I was cold – and my body could not be warmed by a bedsheet. I heard a strange thin squeak of medical equipment. It annoyed me, most of all in the world I wanted to plug my ears, so as not to hear this vile sound. But I couldn't do it – I was like a butterfly from herbarium, crucified with a lot of needles. Oxygen mask on my face was like a muzzle. I heard – my mom was crying.