Precognition

The story of a boy that can sense the future, yet is powerless to stop it.

Precognition is way less fun than you might think. You don't get the whole picture, and you NEVER get enough to change anything. Sometimes you only get a single sense of the future. You might hear a few key words, or see some horrific massacre… or smell some nauseating scent.

…I haven't introduced myself yet, have I? Sorry, I'll try not to get distracted again. I just needed to get that off my chest… My name is Toby, or Tobias Thomson, if you prefer a more formal introduction. You could even call me T.V.T., just don't ask what the V stands for. It's really up to you, just imagine your preference is there when I say "Toby," I guess.

…Anyway, I'm Toby, and I can see into the future. It's not anything super awesome, and I can never get specific enough for people to actually believe me, so I pretty much keep it to myself. I live in Sumner, California, and I go to school at River High. I'm pretty average academically, although I was the top of my French class when I kept seeing the future of some ambassador in Quebec. That was cool, until he died in the middle and I ended up flunking the rest of the year.

I don't really have any friends. I used to hang out with the goth crowd, but they stopped hanging out with me when I got too depressed. It's probably for the best, though. A month later I started getting visions of them dying horribly.

Oh, sweet! That's the perfect way to move into the story.

Most of my visions are related to death, so even though I experience a pretty extensive number of precognitive events, they generally have no connection to me. That's why it was so strange when, a few weeks away from Summer vacation, I smelled the locker room in math class. It wasn't just the locker room, although the musty stench of sweaty adolescents and sickening smell of a player's cologne would have been bad enough. In that vision, I also smelled something burning, but I couldn't tell what was burning. I know now, but then I only knew it was revolting.

After running halfway to the bathroom and puking in a planter, I returned to class in time to see Adam, a wannabe tough guy that would probably never finish school, getting escorted off by security after the teacher caught him smoking weed in class. Just a regular day at River High, I guess.

I finished the day and got home without any more visions, a fact that made me far happier than I should have been, I suppose, and I forgot all about the smelly foreshadowing. I met my mother in the hallway and greeted her with a hug and a kiss, a greeting that she seemed to find both surprising and pleasant.

"You're in a good mood!" She said.

"Today's a good day." I told her.

My mother and I ate reheated pizza at the table that night, while my father ate an energy bar at work and worms ate my long-dead sister in the dirt. This was about as close to a family meal as my family ever got, and it was quite unusual. I went to bed well-fed and in high spirits.

That night, I had a another vision. I'm not sure why I call it a vision, because this one was audio only. I heard the overwhelming sound of fifty shrill screams of terror, the sharp blow of an unheeded whistle, and the subtle sound of a crazed child muttering something I couldn't understand. I got out of bed, sweaty despite the night's unusually chilly weather.

Taking far more notice of this vision than the last one, I went to school badly shaken. When the time came for P.E., I entered the locker room, and I was hit by a wave of the sounds and smells of the last two visions. That soon past, and I noticed another smell, this time in the present world. It wasn't a very good smell, and it reminded me of rotten eggs. I rushed to dress out and leave the scent behind, barely noticing the smell of marijuana in the locker next to mine.

That day and the next, I had no visions, only a strong sense of apprehension. The day after that, nothing had happened, and I started to relax.

I was actually having a good day. My French teacher had shown the class a grade report, and I had a B+. As long as I didn't screw up in the next couple weeks, I would pass! The bell rang, and I went to P.E.

That day, the rotten smell was even worse. It had mixed with the aromas of cologne and pot, and the air seemed far heavier than it should. Nevertheless, I felt good, and I took my time dressing out.

That was stupid of me.

Nearby, a group of stoners were huddled in a semicircle around an open locker. This wasn't that unusual, after all, the potheads were always smoking together, but it was still odd for them to inhale so publicly.

Their lighters flashed, and the air erupted into flame.

Everywhere I looked, there was fire. Burning benches, burning ceiling, burning walls, burning clothes, burning chemicals. I could feel the smoke reaching malevolent tendril down my throat and into my lungs, dark clouds covering my eyes in stinging pain.

Panicking, I ran towards exit, blindly passing through the fire and screaming boys until I hit the locked doors. Outside, I could vaguely hear the sound of a fire alarm. I fell to the ground, and then, in that moment of hopelessness, I noticed the smell.

Beside me, a crazed teen with third degree burns was mumbling something. I got closer, and as I looked at him, and it donned on me what exactly I smelled. It was the smell of burning flesh.

I fainted, and I suppose I probably burned to ashes after that.

Author's Note

I'm not entirely sure about the pace of this story, so if you review, I'd appreciate your opinion on that.