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Visitor 04

I was young. Roughly 12, or 13 when I had my first premonition. It was of my grandmother. She was a very religious woman, she had a Jesus picture in her dining room. One night, I saw a ectoplasmic being drift from the picture into the living room and right to her room. The blue streak wrapped around her, and held her there, I was frozen, and I couldn’t speak. But, it looked to me, and I saw a face. Not the face of God, or Jesus but a simple face. I wanted to beg it. Don’t take away my grandmother. But it didn’t listen.  I had watched her take in her last breath, her soul being lifted from her body, as she looked at me with the most peaceful smile. She didn’t seem to be in pain anymore. But…what about me? Who is going to help me with my prison now? The screaming didn’t start right away. It was a soft crying. That night, my grandmother had passed away, her heart, just gave out. Cardiac arrest…I was in school. The entire day, a heavy feeling residing deep within my stomach…something wasn’t right, and I of course, was right. My brother and I were on the bus home, his face looked forlorn, he just…didn’t look right, and the pit in my stomach, grew. The day was cloudy and rain threatened to fall. We got to our bus stop, and our mom was sitting there waiting, she had a look of absolute distress. When we got off the bus, and climbed into the car. She turned to us.

“Nan passed away last night in her sleep. The doctors said it was peaceful and she wasn’t in pain.” I was hit in the stomach, and my brother just looked at me; eyes filled with fear. I told him my dream during lunch at school. Within that fear, I saw, anger and admiration. Mostly fear. He scooted away from me. Sitting at the furthest corner of the car, crying silently. My mom was quiet the entire ride to the hospital. My hair stood up on end, and I looked out of my window, we were nearing one of those crosses on the side of the road. A single man, was staring down at the cross, he looked back up at me, his face was completely gone. He had no nose, no skin on his face. The entire front of his shirt stained red and brown. His hair was a matted mess, grey pink color of his brain stood out on the left side if his head. The pain he had felt, shot into the side of mine. I nearly collapsed in surprised. The wind was knocked out of me, my breath was caught in my throat. I grasped my chest and tried to breathe. The pain escalating, causing spots to appear behind my eyes; once we drove past the cross, the feeling faded away in slight pulsating throbs. My brother looked at me, with those judgmental eyes…he remembers nothing of the night, three years ago…which in a way was good. But I remember it too well…

The holy trail opened up, once we got to Mercy hospital. My mom. Walked like a robot, I followed and my brother was beside her. I felt hundreds of eyes on me, and I bowed my head. Things…really weren’t getting easier. As my grandmother passed, things have enhanced. I could feel things so much more. I can see things, the way they were supposed to be seen.

I have become, more of a freak then I was before. This, wasn’t a gift like my grandmother said it was. It was a curse. A curse I wanted to get rid of. I had enough, I didn’t want to help them…I didn’t have a choice…

“She’s going to look different.” my mother spoke to both of us. And I ignored her. I didn’t want to believe my grandmother would be different…

We were soaked to the bone by the time we got into the hospital. People were coughing. Sneezing. Bleeding…dying…I watched the life slip away from them all. I saw, the dark shadows staring at them…running their dark hands over their bodies. Waiting for their fight to dissapear, so they can reap their souls, take it for their own. These shadows, lingered, and ignored me. All around me, I felt the eyes, the eyes of so many dead people. My body had started to shut down. My brain started to turn over, the pressure was too much, and I began to black out, slowly the spots started to appear, my brother reached out and took me, guided me. This was too much, it was going to be too hard…

“She’s not in pain stella, every thing is going to be okay.” my mother called. We were in the elevator, decending. We were getting close, I could feel her. Her small little pulsating soul. I didn’t want, to be here…I didn’t want,to be here…

“Alright, were here.” my mother was walking. And we were following, the walls were closing in, the door was growing taller, and my mother walked in. The morgue was what you expect it to be. Cold, and smelt of formaldehyde…the mortician wasn’t smiling, all he did was pull out my grandmothers body, my mom was right, she was pale, her lips blue, and her grey hair fell down and over her shoulders. I didn’t feel the need to cry. But, I was suprised, when she was standing there looking at me, standing beside her own body.

“I told you. Things won’t get easy. They’ll get harder. The screams will get louder. Ill be here always.”

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