I shook the remainin’ drops of coffee out of my thermos onto the patchy grass and put it in my bag. It was time to go, and the old woman was already walkin’ toward us. I tried not to pay her any attention, but our eyes met, and she smiled and waved. I raised my hand and returned the greetin’ out of habit.

  “Hello there,” the old woman said. She stood next to me as she watched Trent in the swing. “How are you on this fine day?”

  “Hi, ma’am. We’re doin’ alright, aren’t we, baby?” I asked Trent, rhetorically.

  “I’m glad to hear it. I was watching you for a while and couldn’t help overhearing what some of those awful women said to you about your brave little angel over here,” she said as she nodded toward Trent.

  “Oh.” I was embarrassed again. “Yes. Unfortunately, there are many people who don’t recognize that we are just as human as they are. Their foolishness makes them say and do some pretty hateful things. Wait, did you say you heard what happened? From all the way over by the tree line?” There was just no way she was tellin’ the truth about that. I kept my guard up as we talked.

  “Yes, dear. Some would say I have a gift.” She smiled and pushed her hair back to reveal her perfectly normal sized ears. I nodded, but was unconvinced, so I changed the subject.

  “Forgive me for sayin’ so, ma’m, but I’ve grown up here all my life and you don’t look like a local. What brings you to our little town?”

  “You have a keen eye,” she said with a slight smirk on her lips. She looked off into the distance and measured her next words with care. “I’m here to restore balance.”

  “Sounds cathartic,” I said, unsure of what she actually meant.

  “Mama!” Trent shouted as he leapt from the swing. He held out his hand, waitin’ for me to take it - his way of tellin’ me he wanted to go home. As I reached for him, I looked over my shoulder and said, “That’s my cue. It was nice meetin’ you. I hope you enjoy your stay here and find that balance you’re lookin’ for.” I took Trent’s hand. As we began our walk home, the old woman said:

  “He forgives you.”

  “Excuse me?” I turned back to her, puzzled.

  “You should know that in the end, he forgives you.” The woman stared at me and Trent solemnly, and I felt a chill run down my back. I didn’t know what she was talkin’ about and didn’t want to find out. Without another word, we left the park. Lord bless and keep the crazies out there. And especially keep them away from me.

  23 OPHELIA CLARK

  October 25

  I lay awake in bed, thumbing the smooth surface of the covellite stone. The small crystal was definitely influencing my gift. In fact, it might have been working too well. Isra said it would enhance my dreams, but did she mean daydreams, too? It was bad enough that I was barely getting any sleep trying to solve this awful challenge, but having psychic visions while I was awake seemed like more than I’d bargained for. I couldn’t stop thinking about the skinny boy that popped into my head while I was sitting in Doctor Charlotte’s home office. In my vision, he was running for his life, and though I’d never seen his face before, I was positive he was dead now. What does it mean? Is it like this for all diviners? I wish I could just focus on one freaky vision at a time.

  I was living in a state of information overload, with one foot planted in reality and the other foot rooted in an entirely different realm with a whole new set of mysteries to solve. There were so many questions. I wish I would’ve asked Isra when I had the chance, but I was so overwhelmed with the idea I might be someone special, I couldn’t think straight. What kind of organization spies on young psychic children and how did Isra find out about me in the first place? If Isra recruited me as a divine bender when I was a young kid, what powers would I be capable of right now? How many divine benders are there in the world? I imagine there couldn’t be many if Isra came all the way to this tiny town in Georgia just to put me to the test. If I somehow pass, how would I convince Mom to let me go to diviner school?

  I glanced at my phone on my night table. It read: 2:33 AM. If I ever wanted any answers, I would need to get to sleep and concentrate on sorting the details of my shadow dream out. I pressed the covellite stone in the center of my forehead, just between my eyebrows, and squeezed my eyes closed. I had no clue what I was doing, but I had seen Isra touch this spot when she was referring to the “third eye”.

  “Show me what I need to see. Divine vision, come to me,” I whispered into the darkness. I felt a little foolish for the rhyme, but the words just popped into my head, and they felt right. Isra said to follow my intuition, after all. I repeated the mantra a few more times before removing the stone from my forehead and tucking it under my bed. Closing my eyes, I waited for sleep to carry my consciousness to the next dimension.

  Ophelia walked along a field of grass, her bare feet caked with mud, and her toes calloused and bloodied. The edges of her white nightgown carried flecks of soil and grime. Each step she took sent a shock of pain up her legs and exploded like fireworks into her hips. She felt as if she has been walking for days - every tendon and every muscle stretched to capacity. Ophelia rubbed at one of her bare arms and, to her surprise, felt something warm and soft draped around her. A small knit blanket covered her shoulders, but threatened to fall away. She quickly wrapped herself in it to stave off the chill of the day transitioning into night. Ophelia took in her surroundings and stopped dead in her tracks. Suddenly, the dense fog that inhibited her sight in this place time after time had completely vanished and she could see. Evergreens and oak trees lined a winding pathway to a playground.

  “I’m at the park!” she said aloud, her eyes glistening and a smile spreading across her lips. She forgot her physical discomfort, if only for a moment. “I remember walking onto yellow lines on dark asphalt.” She spun around to re-orient herself. “The parking lot is just around the bend!” Ophelia limped along the pathway, her clean line of sight giving her confidence and a new ability to cut across the winding trail to quicken her arrival. Time was of the essence, and she knew she only had a few minutes to observe and take note. She reached the parking lot in no time. Her eyes darting back and forth, she found nothing but disappointment; a crumbling, ill-maintained parking pad with no painted spaces. Something wasn’t right. She wracked her brain to retrieve the four clues she noted the last time she was there. “Parking lot, window, circle of people, the number seven.” She counted each one on her stiff and aching fingers. “The nearest parking lot where there are windows nearby are the shops on Main Street.” Ophelia forced her tired legs to move, kicking one foot out in front of the other. She exited the park and headed straight for the busy part of town.

  The gray clouds rolled in on cue as the row of shops and other businesses appeared in the distance. Ophelia kept focus on her mission, determined to witness the horrible scene that undoubtedly lay ahead. As she walked along the windows of each establishment, a sense of familiarity and belonging filled her core.

  “I’m getting closer, I can feel it.” She ran her hand along the buildings, peeping into the windows but finding nothing. There were dozens of units to look through, and Ophelia knew she could never cover enough ground before her vision came to a painful and gruesome end. Standing at the corner of Main and Jefferson, the girl reflected on her list of clues. “Where would people go to gather in a circle? It wouldn’t be a place with tables and chairs.” Ophelia strained her eyes to read the store signs around her, quickly dismissing restaurants, cafes, and furniture stores. “It needs to be an open space,” she murmured as she continued looking. Then she noticed an establishment on Jefferson Street - The Happy Lotus Yoga Studio. As she moved toward the unit, she could see the freshly painted parking spaces. They were bright yellow. Her heart raced. “This has to be it!” Ophelia rushed to the glass doors as the familiar thunderous sound echoed overhead. She knew her time was nearly up. Cupping her hands around her face, she peered into the dimly lit yoga studio, eager to discover the scenario she would need to prevent inside, but it was empty.

  “But... no. I don’t understand. This has to be the right place.” She rubbed at her temples in frustration, her reflection in the glass mocking her. Then there was another familiar sound. It was a woman’s scream. This time, Ophelia could pinpoint where it came from. “I’m close!”

  The wind tore at Ophelia’s blanket and the bottom of her dress. She clung to the knitted loops, her fingers poking through the gaps like hooks into a net. Ophelia ran to each of the nearby units, frantically pressing her face up to the windows in search of the next clue. She could feel her body getting stiffer as the temperature dropped. She was down to her last few seconds, and as the red sticky mess of blood oozing out of her chest seeped through the blanket, she drew one last ragged breath and flung herself against the window of the last place on the block. It was a bank. Her vision was dimming, but her eyes landed on a white 6x6-inch flip calendar sitting on the front courtesy desk. She fought to read the black print: Today is the 7th. Ophelia’s mouth gaped at the sudden realization that this was the place she had been looking for. Then everything went dark.

  24 BLAKE JONES

  October 25

  It was mid Saturday morning when I woke up from the unusual sound of laughter coming from the kitchen. Still groggy from sleep, I cocked my head to one side to hear what was going on downstairs, and when I recognized Jay’s voice, I jumped out of bed. The last time I’d seen my older cousin in person was at my dad’s funeral. We used to be pretty close when we were younger. Our mothers are sisters, and me, my brother Mike, and Jay would get to hang out all the time when we all lived in the same town. Then everything changed overnight. Jay’s dad took a job in the big city, and they moved away to Atlanta. It crushed me and Mike when he left. We both looked up to him as the older kid who knew all about everything. Music, video games, cars, girls (not that I was interested, but Mike seemed to have a lot of questions). Now, after all this time, he was here in my house. I pulled on a pair of jeans and an okay-smelling T-shirt from the floor and ran downstairs as fast as I could. From the kitchen doorway, I watched Gary, Mom, Austin, and Jay having breakfast at our table. The four of them looked so happy - almost like a normal family. It was bizarre.

  “There’s my man! What’s up, small fry?” Jay put down his fork, letting the scoop of scrambled eggs fall back onto his plate. His lips broke into a bright smile, and as he stood up, he pulled me toward him for a half handshake, half hug. At six-feet and three-inches tall, Jay completely dwarfed me.

  “Hey, man. What are you doing here?” I asked, still confused, but happily surprised. We’d been video chatting online for the past few months. He kept saying that he’d come visit, but I never thought he’d do it.

  “I’m here to chill with you, bud,” Jay said as he clapped me on the back. He was so charming, even Gary seemed to be in a good mood. “What do you say we go for a cruise in my car?” He knew the answer, but seemed to be amused by the look of shock and excitement on my goofy face.

  “Hell, yeah!” I said as I leaned over the table, grabbed a fist full of bacon, and darted for the front door.

  “Ha, ha. I guess breakfast time is over. Thanks, Auntie Jo. See you around, Gary. Later, little man,” Jay said before taking one last sip of his coffee and chasing after me.

  “Don’t keep him out too late,” Mom ordered, having to shout so Jay could hear her from the front of the house.

  “I won’t.” Jay winked at me with a look of mischief on his face, and we left.

  When I stepped outside, the reflection of the sun glinting off Jay’s car nearly blinded me. It was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen up close. A chorus of singing angels sounded off in my head as I stood in front of the vintage red Firebird parked in the driveway.

  “It’s unlocked, buddy. Get in.” Jay climbed into the driver’s seat and started her up. He revved the engine a few times before peeling out of the driveway and speeding out of the small subdivision. The smell of burnt rubber filled my nostrils.

  We mostly drove around all day. He took me on the interstate and opened up the Firebird. Wow, this car can move! With hardly anyone on the road, it really felt like we were flying.

  It was around 1:30 when we stopped for lunch at a Sonic Drive-In so we wouldn’t have to get out of that heavenly machine. I was nervous about spilling something in there and spoiling the day, but Jay insisted I shouldn’t worry about it.

  “So ...” Jay started, as he took a big bite out of his cheeseburger. “... is Gary still an asshole?” he asked through a mouth full of food.

  “Mmhm.” I nodded my head and swallowed what was in my mouth. I put my half-eaten burger down on the wrapper I’d unfolded across my lap and pointed out the bruises on my forearms. “His handy work from a couple days back.” I picked my burger back up and took another bite, not wanting to talk about Gary. I didn’t want to think about how I didn’t feel safe in my own home, or how ashamed I was for not being man enough to defend myself. Swallowing hard, I bit off another chunk of burger goodness and stared at the station wagon parked in front of us. I could see the silhouettes of a man and a woman in the front seat and three small children bouncing around in the back and thought: whatever.

  “Yeah, I don’t miss my old man. I’ll tell you that. Ever since that fat loser grabbed at his chest and croaked at the dinner table, life has been MUCH better.” Jay’s voice was distant, and he stared out the front window as well.

  “Gary’s not my old man,” I said. This shook Jay out of his own trip down memory lane.

  “Oh, man. I’m sorry, Blake. Your dad was a great guy. You’re starting to look a lot like him, you know.” Jay put his arm around me and gave my shoulder a little squeeze.

  “Yeah, he was.” I forced a smile and stuffed the last bite into my mouth. “But I guess both our moms ended up with assholes in the end,” I added as I chewed.

  “I heard that when our moms were young, they used to fight over boys. Those crazy chicks have a type, I guess,” Jay said. We looked at each other and exploded in laughter.

  “I miss you, Jay.”

  “I know, bud. I miss you, too. Don’t worry. You’ll only need to be there a while longer.”

  “Yeah, but I need to plan my exit. I need a job. I want to save money.”

  “For real?” Jay raised an eyebrow. I could tell Jay’s mind was working. He started the car and the two of us were on the road again. “Did you know I paid for this car in cash?”

  “What? No, you’re messing with me.”

  “Legit! Fully restored and everything.” The look on Jay’s face was convincing enough.

  “How? Where’d you get the money? Your dad’s life insurance?”

  “Pffff. Hell no! That sad sack didn’t leave us with a cent. After I became the man of the house, I realized I needed to earn some serious money. None of this minimum wage crap. I know a guy that could use a man in Monroe and the surrounding area. He pays well, and he pays cash. The only thing is that you’d have to do exactly as you’re told and keep your mouth shut.” He gave me a good, long stare.

  “What does he tell you to do?” I asked. Jay had my full attention.

  “This is the part where I need to keep my mouth shut. But I can tell you I run some simple errands. It’s fast, and it’s easy. I can put in a good word for you if you’re interested.”

  “Hell ya!” I was smiling ear-to-ear. Jay punched the gas, and we were flying down the interstate again.

  As we cruised along, a can of black spray paint rolled out from under my seat and tapped my shoe. I picked it up.

  “Hey. What’s up with this?” I asked, giving the can a little shake. It felt full.

  “Oh, yeah. I almost forgot. That’s for later tonight, if you’re up for it.” Jay winked and brought my memories back to the times he, Mike, and I used to go around tagging mailboxes, sheds, and abandoned buildings. We’d draw something dumb and then run like hell when someone saw us. It was thrilling. “And that’s not all that I brought. Check the back seat,” he said. Stretching awkwardly, I grabbed the plastic shopping bag sitting on the floor behind me and looked inside.

  “Ha ha ha. Yeah, man. We gotta do it for old times’ sake,” I laughed.

  “Well, alright!” Jay’s face beamed as the wind tossed his hair all around. He looked happy in a way I didn’t know a person could be. Maybe that’s because he was free and, for the first time in a long time, I felt like I was free too.

  25 CAMERON CAITIFF

  October 25

  With a few more hours of my shift to go, I sat in my car, writing my report on yet another domestic disturbance call to Jolene Jones’s house. Marge said a neighbor heard yelling and the sound of glass breaking, but when I got there, the visit went exactly as it always did. The sight of me irritated Jolene, and she insisted nothing was wrong while Gary, drunk and stinking to high hell, stumbled to the door to explain how his shitty neighbors enjoyed wasting my time. I hated these two people more than anyone in Monroe. I felt sorry for the kids, though. It wasn’t their fault their parents were losers.

  The sun was getting low, and having accomplished nothing but drive around all day, I took my dinner break at “the bottle”. The signage outside said “Bar on the Lake”, but the locals came up with a nickname based on the first letter of each word: BOTL. After that crap with the Jones call, I deserved a drink, a no-no for on duty officers, but who was going to say anything to me in this nothing town?

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23