The Unsacred Gift (A Young Adult Paranormal Novel)

by C. S. Dorsey

  THE UNSACRED GIFT

  C. S. Dorsey

  Copyright © C. S. Dorsey

  All rights reserved

  “And it shall come to pass afterward

  That I will pour out My spirit on all flesh;

  Your sons and your daughters shall

  Prophesy.

  Your old men shall dream dreams,

  your young men shall see visions.

  Joel 2:28

  Preface

  When you’re a child you have no fears, no doubts, and no worries. When you’re a child, you feel like you’re invincible from all bad things that come your way. It’s almost like you’re exempt from this world, with the freedom to roam with no preconceived notions. However, death has no respect for anyone. Death has no age, color, ethnicity, or creed. When it’s your time, it’s your time to leave this earth. Death doesn’t care if you’re a child or not.

  I stood there as I watched my sister disappear before my eyes. I could not move or speak. I was stiff as a board, when I saw a black, misty shadow pull her right from where she was standing, next to the lake. The air was so thick and humid I could not breathe. The wind howled like wolves, yet it was still daytime. I tried to run after her. I tried to save her, but the mist of death overshadowed me.

  That day haunted my dreams and my life. I was six then, and I saw it coming. No one believed me, so I keep acting like everyone else. Like she never disappeared. Like she never existed.

  Chapter One

  “It had been fifteen years since my sister’s death, and I could still hear her screaming in my sleep.”

  I could hear the ear-piercing screams and horror in her voice ringing in my ears. I ran as fast as I could through the tall trees in the forest. I was running after her so fast, trying to save her from her doom. The dark mist was dragging her across the floor of the forest. My breathing was shallow and my heart raced as I kept running. It felt like I was running in place. The dark mass kept pulling her.

  “Misty!” I yelled, making no sound. My voice was on mute. The wind brushed through my hair. My lungs felt like they were going to burst, and I wanted to collapse, but I couldn’t stop running after her. Death was pulling her farther and farther away. I could see her reaching out to me, wanting me to save her—but I was too late.

  I gave up. I saw her eyes. They were wide with fear, horror, and sadness.

  “Misty!” I yelled again, but no one heard me, not even myself. I looked at the pale-faced girl with long, straight black hair flying in the wind and almond-shaped eyes one last time. She looked back at me with disappointment, and then she fought no more, because I gave up.

  The wind howled in my ears and circled around me as I watched my sister vanish before my eyes. Her piercing screams rang in my ears like someone’s nails scraping against a chalkboard.

  I covered my ears from the terrifying screams of my sister calling my name: “Siiiissssy.” I dropped to the ground with my ears still covered and my head between my legs, rocking back and forth…

  I jumped out of my sleep as tears rolled down my face. I was shaking uncontrollably, and sweating. My breathing was labored. I took some deep breaths in and out, as I lay back down.

  It had been fifteen years since my sister’s death, and I could still hear her screaming in my sleep. The day my sister disappeared would haunt me for the rest of my life. I vaguely remember what happened—I was six when she disappeared.

  I saw her fate, but I was too young to realize that I was having a vision. I tried to tell my mother, but she convinced me that I was having a bad dream. Not long afterward, Misty vanished.

  That day was hot and the wind barely blew. Butterflies were flying all around us. It was our family picnic, that hot August summer of 1990, at Aquatic Park in Berkeley. I remember Misty, our cousins Heaven and Halo, and I were running and playing with a pink-and-white-marbled ball. “Girls, don’t go too far,” my mother said. The sun radiated on her skin, making it glow and bringing out her youthful features. Her stringy black hair was pinned up in a bun. She was sitting at the picnic table with my Granny and auntie Tiyanne. We call her Tiy.

  The four of us were having so much fun playing catch with the marble-color ball. Heaven and Halo were three then, so they couldn’t go as far as Misty and I could. Misty was five, a year younger than I was.

  Soon, Misty and I were near the lake. “Sissy, don’t throw the ball too hard,” Misty said.

  “I won’t.” For a kid my age, I had a really strong arm, and the ball bounced and rolled into the lake.

  “Aw, Sissy, I told you.” I just shrugged my shoulders. We stared at the ball as it glided across the lake. “I’ll get it,” Misty said.

  I heard a voice calling me. It was Mom, looking for us. Misty was bending over, reaching for the ball. I turned toward the voice and called, “Misty, we have to go! Mommy is…” Then I turned around, only to find that Misty was gone. The ball was still floating on top of the lake. The water was still. “Misty, stop playing!” I called to her. But she was nowhere in sight. I panicked, and ran to my mother.

  “Where is your sister?” she asked. I hesitated, reluctant to answer her. “Sissy, where is your sister?”

  I just looked at her and shrugged my shoulders. I felt a sense of déjà vu.

  “Answer me, girl!”

  All I could do was look into my mother’s eyes and tell her it was the vision I’d had, which would become stronger and more vivid as I got older. My mother just looked at me, not wanting to believe me. I reiterated the vision, the one my mother had said was a dream: Misty was standing in the same spot in front of the lake, and in the blink of an eye, she was gone.

  What was I supposed to do? I was six.

  Yellow tape was placed all around the park. Everyone there had to leave while the police investigated. My Uncle Tyler called the police before my mom and Granny had a chance to go search for her. Aunt Tiy packed up everything quickly and put Heaven and Halo in the car before they ran off, too. I saw officers diving into the lake to see if they could find Misty’s body. A tall, dark-skinned police officer with slick black hair came over to me. I was sitting on the back of the ambulance, covered in blankets the police had given me, with my head down.

  He kneeled down to me so that he could see me eye to eye. “Young lady, we need your help, so that we can find your sister. Will you help us?” I nodded yes, not saying a word. Earlier that day, the weather had been nice, nice weather for a picnic…not anymore. Now it was dark and cold. Although California did not get hurricanes, I didn’t doubt that one might appear. I had lost my sweater and I wish I had it.

  I explained to the police officer what had happened. “I don’t know, officer. I saw it before it happened. Mommy said I had a bad dream.” The officer thought that Misty might have drowned, but there was no trace of her anywhere.

  The officer knew he was not getting anywhere, and gave up. He went over to my mom, and I waited. All I could hear was that he and his team would keep looking for her for as long as they could. My mother’s head was down, and she nodded her head in agreement. He left, and she came over and scooped me up from the edge of the ambulance truck.

  “Sissy—you need to tell them the truth,” my mom said, carrying me in her arms.

  “But, Mom,” I said, “I am telling the truth. It was like the dream I had.” My mom just ignored me and carried me to the car.

  Chapter Two

  “Some might say what I have is a gift…I say, I want to return it.”

  From the day of my sister’s disappearance, the visions increased. Finally, they got so strong I was scared to death, and death was what I saw. No one knew about it, bec
ause I knew if I told anyone they would put me away. But the details of each vision would keep me up all night.

  School had just started, and I was in ninth grade. The excitement rushed through my body, knowing that in four years I would be free. Going to college was my main focus. I had to get out of here, away from my past. It was countdown time.

  As I walked through the hall to my first-period class, I stopped at my locker, number 517, the month and date of Misty’s birthday. I gathered my books to put them inside the locker. As I kneeled down, someone touched my shoulder. A jolt of electricity charged my body as I lifted up my head.

  My vision began to get blurry and the room was getting dark. I was frozen. It was like my body was numb. I was no longer in the school hallway. I could see a car that had been in a crash. The sky was dark, so it must have been nighttime. I couldn’t hear a sound, but there was a woman in the car. She was pale white, with blood dripping from the top of her head. Her black hair had burgundy highlights was stuck to her cheek from the red liquid that was drying up on her face. Her head was lying on the black steering wheel, covered in a mix of shattered glass, blood, and hair.

  Her eyes were open. They look as though they had cracked, showing crooked red lines from her pupils to the back of her eyeballs. Her eyes mimicked the cracked windshield from the head-on collision. The air bag deflated under her like a balloon. It looked like it had not been much use at all.

  I could see glass shattered everywhere in the car. I could see myself moving around the car, examining every dent in the Toyota Camry. A burst of white light flashed in my vision, blinding me. I lifted my hands to shield the light from my eyes.

  As my eyes tried to adjust, I saw two men in blue uniforms running toward me. They didn’t see me; I was invisible to them. One of the officers—I guessed he was a police officer because of his uniform—reached his hand out to touch the woman, to see if she was OK.

  The volume in their voices was muted, as was everything else around me. The other officer was on his walkie-talkie, calling for help. And in just one split second, I snapped back to reality.

  I snapped out of my vision, blinking, trying to focus on where I was. I looked around— I was still kneeling on the floor with my backpack open. The volume adjusted back to normal. I could hear the students in the background laughing, joking, and walking to their next class. I turned around to see the stranger touching me.

  It was her…in my vision! It scared me. I gasped for air, on the verge of hyperventilating, like the air around me was so thick that my lungs could not fill up fast enough.

  I kept staring—it was as if I had seen a ghost. But this ghost was alive.

  The woman in my vision had slightly pale skin and black hair with burgundy highlights. I wanted to scream.

  “Honey, are you OK? You look like you saw a ghost.”

  She was right, because the woman in my vision was dead. No pulse, no breath, no life.

  “Oh—no, I’m fine.” I shuddered over my words.

  “You sure?” she said. “You don’t look fine.”

  “Oh, no, I’m fine.” I quickly gathered my things in my backpack.

  I was shaking and sweating. I quickly closed my locker and put the lock on. Not saying another word, I immediately started walking.

  “Oh, young lady,” the pale woman said, “you dropped something.”

  “Oh,” I said, with a half-crooked smile on my face. I walked back to her to find she was holding a book of mine.

  “Shakespeare,” she said, with curiosity in her voice as to why a young person like me would be reading such a book.

  “Yeah,” I said, reaching for the book as I walked back to her.

  “You’re reading this book for a class?” she asked.

  “Ummm, no, I just like Shakespeare,” I said, as I grabbed the book. I gave her a half smile and said thanks.

  As I turned around and started to walk away, my head down, I knew what I had seen was not a daydream. She yelled after me, “My favorite, too!” I looked up and turned back to her, and gave another fake smile.

  “I’m Ms. Chavez,” she said. The last name did not fit her at all. “I’m an English teacher for the junior and senior classes.”

  “Hello, I’m Sicily Monroe. You can just call me Sissy.”

  “Nice to meet you, Sissy. I look forward to seeing you around. Hopefully, you will be in my class one year.” She smiled with light in her eyes, as though she was excited about having another Shakespeare fan around. I looked closely at the woman. She looked to be in her early thirties.

  Ms. Chavez was young, I thought to myself, trying not to cry as the dark images flashed like a projector. God, why was this happening to me?! I felt as if I was cursed. Some might say what I have is a gift. I say, I want to return it.

  I looked at the woman and said, “Hope so,” then turned around and started to walk away. Hope so? I replayed what I’d said in my head. Hope was all I could think of.

  I prayed, in my mind, for God to have mercy. It felt like I was talking to myself. God, I don’t know if you can hear me, but I am scared of this…please, why me? I hoped that the vision was just something I made up in my head.

  Nothing in my life had prepared me for this gift that I did not like. I wanted to return it to wherever it had come from.

  I prayed the whole day for it to hurry up. I tried to avoid anyone touching me. I did not want to see anything else—and apparently touch was what brought the vision on. I tried to force the images out of my head for the rest of the day until I got home.

  My house was walking distance from the school—a long walk, but not long enough to have to take public transportation. I ran down Tennyson Ave, and then cut through Tyrell Street three houses down, and I was at home. I ran like lightning through the house to my room, past my mom in the kitchen. We lived in a one-story house so at least I didn’t have to deal with the hassle of running up noisy stairs.

  When I got to my room, I closed the door and threw my bag on the floor next to a pile of clothes my mom had told me to wash over a week ago. I turned on my radio, plopped on my full-size bed, and buried my head in the pillows.

  About five minutes later I heard my mom knock on the door. “Sissy, are you OK?” My mom’s sweet voice passed through the door. I tried to muster up something to hide the squeaky sound from the frog that was in my throat.

  “I’m—OK, Ma.” It sounded so funny even I didn’t believe it.

  “No, you’re not,” my mom said through the door. “Let me in.”

  Apparently Kim chi, my cat, was worried too, because I could hear him meowing loudly through the door. He was just upset that I had closed the door, blocking his entrance into the room. All he wanted to do was stare at my fish tank. He was always trying to plot and plan a way to get up there and go fishing.

  Last time he did that, he fell in the tank, and I had to save him. And when I pulled him out, the goldfish started to nip at his tail, thinking it was a big, juicy worm. “I know you’re not OK, Sissy, open the door.” I wiped my eyes and looked in the mirror to see if I looked presentable.

  “Honey!” my mom said. “Op—” and before she could finish, I opened the door.

  “See,” I said. “I’m fine,” and I plastered a fake smile on my face. My mom looked suspicious. She narrowed her eyes at me.

  “Sissy, I know you.” No, you don’t, I wanted to say.

  “I know you do, Mom,” I said instead.

  “Honey, tell me, how was your first day? Did it go well?” she asked in a concerned but delicate voice.

  I looked in my mom’s eyes. They were so beautiful. She had almond-shaped eyes and eyelashes that made women jealous. If she batted her eyes, men would come running, catering to her every need.

  My mother was beautiful. She had a golden skin tone, like she’d lived in Hawaii all of her life—but that was just the California sunshine. Her hair fell down her back. It was soft and silky, but the color of it was fascinating. It was black with brown highlights—her natu
ral color. She and I were the same height, but that would change in the next three years. I was still in my growing stage.

  Her face was so round and smooth. No age spots or anything. My mother’s skin was like that of a newborn baby. Women were so jealous of my mother’s beautiful looks and unaged skin. They asked what her secret was, and she would respone, “I pray and stay stress-free.” They were baffled by that response, shaking it off like they didn’t hear her. They would have rather heard her speak of a new anti-aging cream.

  “Honey, what is wrong, you had a bad day?” I couldn’t tell my mom what happened—she would not believe me. I wished Misty was there. I could tell her my deepest thoughts and she would not judge me. I know I would be able to tell her anything. She was my sister.

  “It was a guy,” I lied. “That I saw at school. I thought he was cute, and I told him. He shot me down. I should have never told him that I liked him. Now I feel stupid.” I was a really good actor.

  “Awww, honey, you don’t need him. There are plenty of other fish in the sea.” She was really convinced that I was heartbroken over a guy.

  “Well, I will get over it.” I turned to go sit on my bed.

  My mom just stood in the doorway, looking puzzled as to how I got over it so fast.

  “I made your favorite,” my mom said in her quiet voice.

  “I’m not hungry right now.” The thought of food made me sick when I remembered what I’d seen in my vision.

  “OK,” my mom said, and turned away to the kitchen.

  I plopped my head back on my pillows, trying to figure out why this was happening to me, of all people. As I stared at the ceiling, I wished again that my sister was around. I wondered if she would have the same gift as well. I will never know.

  The next couple of days at school, I tried so hard to avoid anyone touching me. I had people bump into me in the halls, but luckily this did not trigger any visions. I was relieved to know that, because I didn’t think I could have handled it. One vision, a bad one at that, was enough.