Now You Seer

Another story, just cuz I felt like it. Oh, and I might be slightly obsessed with werewolf stories:3

"This has really gone too far, Cleo." Mom said, leaning against the doorframe with her arms crossed over her chest and a little dent resting right above her eyebrows. It was one of the few things that I actually had in common with her.

"What has?" I ask distractedly, typing in a few last words on my computer before hitting the print button and using my arms to pull myself over to the printer on my rolly chair.

As the printer wheezes out the two pages of pure text, I scan over the little letters critically, nodding to myself after a moment and hole punching it so that it can rest comfortably in my newest binder.

"Writing this stuff down." mom says in a strange tone, and I look up to see her watching me go through my process.

"But mom, if I don't-"

"I know, Cleo. If you don't, you'll start getting panicked and worried, thinking you're going crazy." she threw her hands up in aggravation "I know."

You're probably wondering what the hell is going on. I would, and even to this day I find myself trying to make sense of what I know to be true.

Just an hour ago, as I was finishing up the last couple pages of the book my English teacher assigned, I had gone into one of my attacks. Well, mom calls them attacks.

I get all tense, and the world in front of me disappears. I start seeing things, images of scenarios and situations, sometimes just faces. And then I relax, and the world around me comes back into focus.

The first time it happened I was Six. Thinking back on it, I was terrified, and my mother was no help. She just shushed me and insisted that what I said was impossible. That there was no way a big airplane could possibly run into two tall buildings in the United States. How preposterous! But then, it happened.

And I, Cleo Dempry, had predicted 9/11, one of the most tragic terrorist attacks on the United States in history. But mom pretended that nothing had happened, and it made me doubt myself.

Maybe I had dreamed it? Perhaps I really didn't see images one day and then see them again the next, but the second time they were in real life, and everyone else could see them too.

My grip and understanding on the situation at that age had been surprisingly good for a six year old. My mom refused to talk about it, and dad was never around to confirm or deny any cases like this from his side of the family, so I had formed my own way of coping and dealing with the situation.

I wrote down what I saw as soon as it happened, and put it in a little binder to keep it organized. Then, when it happened, I would do another entry with the exact information concerning the event. Sometimes it was just little things, like a flower vase, and then a week later that same flower vase would be dropped, leaving a huge mess to be cleaned up. And other times, it was bigger, like storms and weather patterns that could affect whole states.

As I grew older I began to type up my entries, just to make sure that if some freak fire happened I would still have them on my hard-drive and my e-mail. I was so careful with them because they were my own way of coping. Mom had been no help, and for a while I had thought I was completely bonkers.

But these entries, these little paragraphs containing the important information that seemed to affect those around me, they assured me that yes, I had seen these things happen well before they actually did, and that no, I wasn't making it up.

As I pulled the metal clips together, they made a loud clang, and I flinched slightly at how much the sound reverberated through the silent house. It was just mom and I, living out here all by ourselves. I had never met dad, he had left before I was born.