Friday, 5 July 2013


This is a little preview of the book I'm going to write!  Here it is.

"The answer is 'b'", my mind kept telling me.  I knew the answer to the multiple choice question.  We'd covered the material on April 27, two minutes after I glanced up at the clock, bored at 9:36.  Sighing, I circled 'a'.  If I got 100% on every single quiz, test, and exam, people would notice.  It would draw attention to myself.  I can remember every single day of my life.  It's not that my head is full.  It's more like my mind is a filing cabinet, with information neatly tucked away for me to sift through.  People couldn't know about my "gift", if you would even call it a gift.  It was more like a gigantic pain in the butt.  Sure it was handy some days.  For example, I've never had to study a day in my life.  But how would you like to remember absolutely everything about your life?  Even the bad things?

That's not the end of my strange gifts.  Sometimes I have these dreams.  They're never pleasant dreams about family or friends.  It scares me half to death that someday I will dream about them.  I pray that the dreams will stay away.  For they're not peaceful, slumbering, mindless thoughts just thrown together.  My dreams are premonitions.  They alert me beforehand of extremely unfortunate events.

I can remember this face.  I now know that that face belonged to my grandpa, but at the time all he was was a face.  I was so young that there were no words to describe him, but I can see him as clear as day when I think back.  One night when I lay sleeping, helpless, the first dream came.  The world was dark.  A heartbeat shattered the quiet darkness.  Then another, and another.  They became faster and faster and with each beat a picture swam into view.  The shape of a man just standing there.  I watched for a few seconds as the beats grew unbearably loud and fast.  Then they stopped and the man fell.  I woke, screaming in my crib.  The next day my grandpa had a heart attack while he was holding me.  Just like the man in the dream, he would never get up.

My dreams are curses, festering in my head until they come true.

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