Sharpening Fate by VJWild
The Mind's Eye writing prompt entry
Artwork by cleo85 at FanArtReview.com
It was one of those mornings. What I thought was going to be a quiet Sunday dispatching police in the sleepy town of White's Pass turned out to be anything but. I should have known it was going to be bad when my head started buzzing, as if it were stuck in a beehive on a hot and humid August day in Pennsylvania. It's what happens when a message tries to reach me. It's like a light tap on the shoulder, or in my case, a strong punch to my third eye. It took me years, maybe a decade, to learn how to decipher these messages, how to look for clues or signs that lead me to more information. Most psychics have visions or hear voices from the other side.
Nope, not me. I have to do everything the hard way. I have to FEEL it.
I yelled to the sergeant who was sitting in his office raging about one thing or another- usually a malfunctioning computer, spilling scalding hot coffee on his shirt, or after reading an nasty email from the chief.
"Hey, Joe, something's gonna happen, I'm getting that...feeling."
This isn't what he wanted to hear, but it's either I tell him and we figure it out together or I just ignore it and let things naturally occur. I did that for the longest time, but I couldn't just "let things happen" anymore. The world is getting crazier and I knew I could help keep it somewhat under control. Speaking of crazy, it took my co-workers a while to get used to my gifts. Some of them are still afraid of me and think I cast spells, but others have seen proof of my "predictions" and don't take it lightly when I mention them.
Especially Sergeant Joe.
"Joe, come here, hurry."
I started to get a stabbing pain in my abdomen. Ten years ago I'd think nothing of it, but today, I know that I'm experiencing potentially what others might feel if I don't intervene. It felt like a knife twisting in my intestines- plunging, throbbing, penetrating- and no this wasn't gas pain either. I became extremely lightheaded and all of the sudden and I started shaking.
For a bigger guy he moves quickly. "What's up, you okay?"
I gathered a breath or two before speaking, "Do you remember the threats that Kara made to her family last week? I remember reading something in the shift reports, but I don't remember what she said."
Joe quickly scoured the file cabinets for the past week's shifts.
"Found it. Says here that units responded to the home of 38 year old Kara Abraham who rambled on incessantly for 45 minutes about how her mother threw away her dinner, so she locked herself in her bedroom for hours. Mrs. Abraham, her step-mother, stated that Kara was recently institutionalized for mental health issues and has been home for three months now, however, Mrs. Abraham is refusing to give Kara her medications because it turns her into a zombie."
"This could be something, " I said as my stomach wretched. "Does it say anything about Kara feeling sick? Food poisoning? Overeating?"
"Nope, paramedics weren't even requested."
There had to be more to the story. The buzzing returned, overpowering the pains in my stomach.
What was I missing?
"Didn't it say something about a knife in the report? Officers confiscated one off of Kara when they arrived on scene- I guess she was making herself another sandwich since her mother threw the first one out, and by the way she was waving it around while she was talking..."
Joe ran out of the station and into his patrol vehicle. With lights and sirens blaring, he requested backup as he responded to the Abraham residence.
They arrived just in time to find Kara in the kitchen holding a knife to her mother's side. When she saw the officers come through the door, she dropped it and held her arms out for them to be cuffed. If looks could kill, her mother would be sprawled out on the cold tile of the floor.
Luckily, she wasn't. This time.
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