Teardrops

An alternative story about a girl with a tragic trend. Written 2006.

I always knew I was different. I could feel the emotions of those around me, and hear their conscious thoughts, from a very early age. This lost me many friends, and made me a great deal of enemies. By the time I was 6, I learnt to control it, for if I had not, I would have been persecuted, and I would have eventually succumbed to the encroaching madness. My mother told me, that when I was born, she had been in labour for 2 hours, then I decided to come out. She said that she felt like burning knives were shooting into her, and every contraction left her swimming in a daze of pain, but when my head came out, I gave a small sigh, and the pain was gone. I came out in one push after that, birth fluids and all. She told me that I was her one comfort in life, the one thing she had to hold to, when everything else felt black. I grew comfortable with my life, and for a time, all was well. Then, one day before my ninth birthday, she went to work, and she never came back. I sat and cried well into the night. I didn’t know why I was crying, I just knew something horrible had happened to her. The police came the next day, along with a social worker. They told me what I had been denying to myself. My mother was not dead, but she might as well have been. There had been an accident as she was driving home, and she had been hit side-on, by a small truck. She had hit her head on the steering wheel, and sustained heavy injuries. I could tell there was something the doctors were not telling me, and I asked them what it was, but noone would tell me. I sat down in the middle of the floor and cried, long, hard, bone-wrenching sobs. I eventually crawled into a corner, and lay, curled up in a ball. I stayed there until a young doctor took pity on me, and tried to comfort me. I sensed in him a light, that would banish my fears, and my sorrows. I looked into his face, and then threw myself into his arms. He seemed surprised, then recovered, and picked me up. I sobbed quietly into his shoulder as he carried me along the hallways. I didn’t notice any of my surroundings, so when he tried to sit me down in a chair, I cried out. He tried to disentangle himself from me, but I wouldn’t let him go. I heard voices, but couldn’t understand them. A hot drink was placed in front of me, and I relaxed slightly. The young man sat down on the chair, with me on his knee, and passed me the drink. As I drank it, I gradually became aware of my surroundings. I was in the hospital cafeteria, and some kind soul had brought me a plate of food, no doubt intended to take my mind off my tragedy. I looked down at the drink in my hand, and when I saw the pink and white marshmallows floating in the hot chocolate, I smiled"remembering a time when my mother had taught me the ‘correct’ way to put marshmallows in hot chocolate. I still used my way at home"putting a straw through the marshmallow, then drinking the hot chocolate through the straw, but I did it ‘correctly’ in public. The young man holding me asked me what my name was, and I replied that it was a secret between me and my mother, but the name I used at school was Jane Cobper. He smiled at that, and told me his name was Jim Barrows. I wiped away my tears, stood up, and faced Jim. I stuck my hand out, and when he shook it, I greeted him formally, and said “Nice to meet you Mr. Barrows, and I hope we will meet again, under less uncertain circumstances.” I heard a giggle, and looked around to find most of the staff around us, looking concerned. One of the nurses gave me a big, bright smile, and I felt my spirits lift a little.

I then remembered what had happened, and to forestall another bout of crying, I asked exactly what it was that the doctors wouldn’t tell me. Jim sighed and looked down at his hands. I held out my hand, and he took it in his. He pulled me back to sit on his knee, and started explaining. I lost most of what he said, but I got the meaning. My mother’s brain damage was not caused by hitting her head, and they could not find any possible reason to explain it. I sat and thought for a while, then asked a strange question"“Did she know she was going to die when she saw the lights?” There was a strange sort of hush  around the room after this, as everyone tried to think how to best answer the question. Finally Jim said the 5 words that changed my life. “I’m sorry. I don’t know.” I looked at him, and I knew that I would never be the same again.

*~*~*~*~*~*

3 years later, to the very minute, on my 12th birthday, Jim died. He died from the same cause as my mother. He suffered multiple fractures and a rib pierced his right lung. He was vegetative, so he suffered no pain, but his brain just gave up the fight, and stopped keeping his body going. I found it slightly suspicious that he died in the exact same way as my mother, but I figured that it was just a coincidence. Then one day I found my mother’s old diary, and read it. She had kept a detailed log of everything that had happened since I was conceived. She even had the date, the place, the means, and even the time that I was conceived. In the front of the diary, there was a bundle of papers tied together with a red ribbon. I opened the first one, and there was a note from my mother, addressed to me. I opened it, and it said, quite simply, that these were notes I wrote after my dreams, and that they predicted events that were about to happen. I read them, researched, and checked them over and over again. I found that every single one of them had come true. There were 3 letters sealed in envelopes at the back of the bunch, and when I opened them and began to read, I was horrified.

They foretold the deaths of my father, my mother, and Jim Barrows. They were all exactly the same. They started with flickering lights on the dashboard, then a small truck materialized out of thin air and rammed into the side of their cars. A hand appeared and pulled them from their cars,  to another world, where there were green fields and sparkling streams everywhere. The country was beautiful, but overlaid with a feeling of pain and unhappiness. Then a machine was attached to their heads, and their injuries were mended. There was a flash, then white.
After that, I continued her journal, filling in the years in between. Another thing that set me apart was my photographic memory. I just had to see, hear or read something once, and I could remember it. My mother spent the first 5 years of my life teaching me to control that, and dumb it down, so I didn’t appear anything special. I never appreciated it fully until I got to school, then I was glad of it. The one thing I could not remember was my dreams, which was why I wrote them down. From the age of 5, I would have dreams every night, and wake up to walls written all over. My mother eventually had the great idea of having a pen and notebook next to my bed, and from then on, I had notes of my dreams. The dream-writing, as my mother and I called it, was neat, and precise, but my normal writing was slightly messy, and had a lot of personality.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*

 

1 year later, my aunt, who had taken me in when my mother died, was killed in exactly the same way as the others. I was then a homeless orphan. I was moved around to many foster homes, but because of the pain I had suffered, I kept to myself, and made no friends. Those who attempted to get close to me failed, because I promised myself that I would not allow myself to get close to anyone again, lest they be taken from me too. Nothing particularly eventful happened until I my 17th birthday, where my whole foster family was killed in exactly the same way as the others. They were the only ones I had allowed through my emotional barriers, and here, again, they were dead.
I then quit school, found myself a good job and settled down in a little flat, with 3 other girls. I allowed myself to get attached to one of them, and on my 18th birthday, she died.
I then broke down, and I started into drugs and drink, and gambled heavily. I would put away my earnings in an account, and then gamble with $100 from that money each time. After 6 months of this, I gave up, and checked myself into a rehab centre. 1 week later, I was let out, with a clean bill of health. The doctors were surprised at my health, as I had been heavily drugged, or drunk for the better part of 6 months, and seemed no worse for the wear, except for a small cough, which went away after a few weeks of healthy living. I threw myself into my work, and quickly moved to the top of my career. I then quit, and redid my last year of high school. I then went on to Uni, and studied a Masters in Math, Biology, and Physics, and a Bachelors in Law. After this I found another job, working so hard that I was at the top in 6 months. I bought 2 properties, on an installment plan. I then rented these properties out, while still living in my little flat, with the two remaining girls. I was so busy, I had no time to get to know them, and at work, I bonded with noone. Life had taught me a well-earnt lesson. ‘Don’t get attached, for it will end in heartbreak.’

I found another job, working in a kitchen part-time, which eventually catapulted me into the role of master chef extraordinaire. I did all of this before I turned 25. At the end of all of this, I decided I wanted a holiday, and checked my account balance to see if I had enough. I almost had a heart attack at the amount that showed up. I went into my bank, to complain about a bug in the system, which had altered my balance. The manager himself took me aside, and told me gently, that I had earned all of this myself, working hard, gambling, and from my properties, which were now more than tripled in price, and completely paid off.
I went to Hawaii, and met someone. This man struck such a deep chord in me that I married him on the spot, and we moved to a private island. I refused to let him go out for a month before and after my birthdays, and for a while it was good. We had a son, who I named Jim, after the young doctor who had so soothed me when my mother had died. A few days before my 31st birthday, my husband had to go to a business conference. I urged him to be back before my birthday, and he promised that he would be.

The night before my birthday, he called and told me that his flight was delayed, so he would be back the next day. I begged and pleaded with him not to drive, and told him to take buses, or at the very least a taxi, and be very careful. He promised he would, but it didn’t help. The next day I got a call, telling me that he was dead. The wills were all drawn up, for just this instance. All of his money and assets went to Jim, while all of his liabilities and debts came to me. I paid and sold them all off, then decided to find a nanny for my son, so I wouldn’t lose him as well. I found a nanny, one who would love him, take care of him, and treat him as her own son, left everything of mine to him, except for the money I put aside for the nanny, and took off. I took lessons in flying planes, and helicopters, then went for a world tour, on my own. It was just me and the plane, flying all over the world. This went on until my 32nd birthday, when I came upon an uncharted island, when I was blown off course. I considered landing, but then passed it by, and went to the next fuelling station. I got an abundance of supplies and fuel, and decided to go back to the island. However, I hadn’t marked the coordinates, so I didn’t have any idea of where it was. I wandered around for a while, and then, right after I had re-stocked, I found it again, but this time"it was on the other side of the globe.
I landed, and explored for a bit, finding a sort of beach-cove. I then moved the helicopter inland, and made a huge discovery. I had found an oasis in the middle of the island. I came upon a village, and met the villagers. They were friendly, and I soon grew at home with them. I left a message at home to say that I would stay on the island. When I returned from re-stocking and re-fueling, the villagers had changed. They were much quieter, and occasionally they would look away from me, or pretend not to hear me when I spoke to them. They were not hostile towards me, just a little more subdued.

One night a giant wind came up, and blew my helicopter into the rocks. It was ruined, so my 1 way out was gone.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*

 

One night, I woke up from a dream, and knew I was going to the same place all the others had gone. It was my 33rd birthday, and I knew it would be my last on this earth, but for some reason, I wasn’t scared. I called a meeting, and told the villagers that I would be leaving them this day. I left them all my things, to do with as they wished, and dressed my self in the simplest clothes I owned. I bid farewell to each and everyone of them, and wished them all happiness.

I then went to my own private beach-cove, the one that I had found the first day I landed on the island. I sat there, just thinking, and all of a sudden, there was sweet, spicy scent, and a hand reached out to me. I took it, and then I was standing in what I knew was the country from my dreams. I closed my eyes, breathed in deeply, and let myself fall. I expected to hit the ground hard, but instead the ground was soft and spongy, and the grass was velvet soft. All of a sudden I was overwhelmed by the pain and sadness in the atmosphere, and I couldn’t breathe. I felt something break within me, and I took it all in. I filled up with the pain and sadness, until there was no more, and then breathed it out, sending the bits of me that were bad or going bad. I opened my eyes, and the world was awash with grey and black. It was horrible, and I found myself filling with anger that such a beautiful place could be covered with such horrible things. I gathered all my anger into a ball, and added to it all the hurt and pain I felt from my life, then used it as a kind of net to catch all the bad stuff. I then opened a door in the fabric of space and time, and threw the ‘garbage’ out into the cosmic ‘bin’.

Immediately the world felt light, and the sun came out to bathe the scene in front of me in golden light. Birds were singing, happiness was in the air, and my loved ones walked towards me in a line. Upon seeing me, however, they all stopped in unison, and I realized they had been walking in unison too. They seemed to wake up, and they reacted in different ways. They all ended up hugging me, talking in my ear and jostling for my attention. There came an odd little sigh, and they all immediately moved aside to clear the way for the old man walking towards me. He seemed to be having trouble walking, but noone moved to help him. He stumbled, and I ran forward, catching him just before he hit the ground. He was light, as if his bones were hollow, and I felt his frailty, but at the same time, I felt his power, and I was afraid.

He did not say a word, but I knew that I was here for a purpose, and I was about to begin training.

 

Author's Note

Unedited.