The Unsacred Gift (A Young Adult Paranormal Novel)

by C. S. Dorsey

  I was also trying to dodge Ms. Chavez. For days I was successful…until I saw her in the hallway that Friday. I was walking to my locker, and there she was. She was talking with the biology teacher, Ms. Thomas. I was horrified by what I saw. She had on the exact same clothes as in my vision: a black blazer with a white blouse underneath, and a black skirt.

  I tried to act like I did not see her, and walked quickly past.

  “Sissy!” she yelled out. I came to a halt when I heard my name. I stood there with my eyes closed. I did not want to face her…I did not want to see her lively face knowing that today would be her last.

  I turned around slowly and put on a fake smile. She said goodbye to Ms. Thomas and walked my way. As she moved forward, I could see her rosy cheeks. They were red and filled with blood flowing through them. In my vision they had not been so rosy. They were pale and white…the color of a stiff corpse. She came close to me, then stopped three feet away.

  “Hello, Sissy,” she said.

  “Hello,” I said.

  “I have not seen you in the hallway.”

  Was she looking for me? I thought. Why?

  “I was thinking maybe we could start up a Shakespeare club—you know, for Shakespeare lovers like ourselves.”

  I listened to her as she talked. She sounded like a person that was confident that she would be here living and breathing forever. I knew this was not the case for her. I knew what was going to happen today, and there was nothing I could do about it but pray.

  I smiled at her and said, “Oh, that would be great,” as though the club could really become a club and she would not be gone.

  “OK, great! I would like for you and me to meet on Mondays after school, so let your parents know, and then we can discuss how the club would run. You know, bylaws and things like that.” She laughed at her own joke. I didn’t find it funny but I fake-laughed anyway.

  “Alright, Ms. Chavez, that sounds great,” I said. “I will see you Monday.” I don’t know if I was lying or hopeful. Hopeful that her future would change, hopeful that these visions were just something I was thinking up myself. Who was I kidding but myself? Why would I even think of something like this?

  “OK, see you Monday, and don’t forget to tell your parents you will be staying after.”

  “OK,” I said over my shoulder as I walked away from her.

  There was a big lump in my throat. Bigger than the one I’d had before, when I saw the vision. This time, I knew today was the day. I prayed all day. “God,” I thought, “please turn Ms. Chavez’s fate around.” But I knew it was too late.

  All day at school, I stayed to myself as usual. I did not want to talk to anyone. I did not want to speak. I just wanted to go home and bury my head in the pillows, for this day to be over with. When I got home, I went right to sleep. I ate nothing, for fear that the food would not stay down in my stomach. I slept through the day and the rest of the night.

  The next morning was Saturday. I was so relieved that I had two days to get my mind and thoughts together. I could hear Kim chi scratching at the door, wanting to get in. His determination to get one fish would soon take his life, and I would not be there to save him.

  I opened the door, and there he was. He ran in so fast, I almost tripped over him. I walked into the kitchen and saw my mom making breakfast. “Good morning, sleeping beauty,” she said to me.

  “Hey, Ma,” I said, yawning.

  “You gave me a scare.”

  “Why?” I asked.

  “Because you slept so long, I thought I was going to have to call the ambulance or something.” She chuckled at the thought, but I knew the thought of losing another daughter was too much. She never talked about Misty, and neither did I.

  “Do you want some breakfast?”

  “Sure,” I said. By that time I was starving. I hadn’t eaten for two days at least.

  I walked out of the kitchen, into the den. I plopped on the couch, and the aroma of egg filled my nostrils, making my stomach growl like crazy. I grabbed the remote and turned on the TV, surfing through the channels, looking for something to make me laugh and forget the horrible thoughts I was having of Ms Chavez. I paused at the local news channel.

  “Breaking News” flashed on the screen.

  I looked at the TV and froze. No one could unthaw me at that moment. I was in a state of shock.

  “Maaa!” I manage to get out. My mom dashed in the den quickly after the horror she heard in my voice. I couldn’t say anything, I just pointed at the TV.

  “What is it, Sissy?” my mom asked. “Honey, what’s wrong?”

  “Teacher…from my school,” I said, unable to say anything else. My mom looked at the news, as the anchorwoman explained what had happened.

  “Sharon Chavez was an English teacher at Hayward High School. She was found by two police officers last night in her car. She was pronounced dead at the scene. So far, there are no suspects in this case. In other news today…” The anchorwoman continued with her report.

  “Oh, honey,” my mom said, “I’m sorry.” She came and sat on the big brown couch next to me. She attempted to hug me, but I pulled away and jumped up and went to my room. I fake-cried so my mom would think I was deeply hurt by the loss of one of my teachers. But the truth was, I didn’t want to hug her. I was too afraid of what I might see when I touched her. I was afraid that my mom would have the same fate as Ms. Chavez.

  From that day forth, I tried so hard to make sure that I kept my distance from everyone. No hugs and no handshakes. It was really hard to do, but I managed to get around physical contact, and yes, I even manged not to touch the boyfriends in my life, though the relationships didn’t last very long.

  I thought that if I avoided touching people, then I wouldn’t have to worry about the horrible visions, about seeing the fate of an innocent person’s death. I was wrong. Touching someone did not bring the visions—they had to touch me first.

  Chapter Three

  “I could hear the sadness and the desperation in her voice.”

  Ring Ring Ring. I didn’t pick the phone up right away. I looked over at my clock—it was 7:30 a.m. on a Saturday. The only person I knew who would call me that early on the weekend was my mother. I sighed as I picked up the phone before it went to voicemail.

  “Hello,” I said in a groggy voice.

  “Hello, honey, screening calls again?” I was right.

  “Hello, Mother,” I said as I gathered myself together. “No, I just had a rough night last night, that’s all,” I lied. I had no social life whatsoever, from the fear of what my visions might reveal of the people around me.

  “Honey, you know it’s your grandmother’s birthday this weekend. I was wondering if you were going to come home.”

  I wanted to tell my mother, No, I’m scared of being around my family because I didn’t want to see their fate, or what the future might hold.

  “I will think about it, Ma.”

  “Oh, honey, don’t think about it, just come. Your Granny would like to see you. We would all love to see you. I miss you. I haven’t seen you since you left for college. It’s been almost four years, honey.”

  After I’d graduated from high school in 2002, two days later I was on a flight to Seattle, Washington. I did not want a graduation party or gifts. My bags were packed a month in advance. All I had to do was grab them, and get on the plane.

  I could hear the sadness and desperation in her voice. It killed me that I was putting my mom through this. If only she could understand what I was going through. I wished I could show her, rather than tell her, but I did not possess those capabilities.

  “OK, Ma,” I said reluctantly. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  “Oh, honey, it would make me very happy.”

  “I know, Ma,” I said.

  “I love you, sweetie.”

  “I love you too.” I hung up the phone first. The knot in my throat was stirring up tears in my eyes.

  I lay in my bed looking up at the ceiling. I d
esperately wanted to say no, I had other plans, but I didn’t want to disappoint Granny. She was getting old and I wanted to hang out with her a little.

  I pulled back the covers. It must have startled my cat, because he jumped up. I didn’t even see him. Kim chi 2 was his name.

  “Hey, butterball, I didn’t see you there.” He looked at me like he wanted to jump on me for disturbing him.

  Now, I know you’re wondering why I named him Kim chi 2. Well, my first cat Kim chi decided…he decided that he would not rest until he got the fish from my fish tank.

  I came home from school one day in my last year of high school. I went in my room only to find that Kim chi was fish food, literally. Kim chi had drowned in the fish tank. His tail was cought in the water pump, so he was unable to get out. The fish was nipping at his flesh while he floated in the water. It broke my heart so much that I didn’t want another cat.

  But when I moved up to Seattle I found a cat like him, cold and shaking from the rain next to the steps of my apartment. He was shaking so badly I thought he was having a seizure. I fell in love with the little calico cat when I saw him. He did not fight me when I scooped him in my arms, and I took him to my apartment to feed him and nurse him back to health.

  I got up from my bed and stretched. On my way to the kitchen, I stopped at a wall mirror in my room. I looked like I’d had a rough night. I examined the dark circles from my eyes, contrasted with the light tanned color of my skin. “These recurring dreams are killing me,” I said to myself as I shook my head in the mirror. A yawn came over me as I pulled the scarf from my head, unraveling my hair. My hair flowed down the middle of my back.

  I had hair like my mom. I really had no one else to compare my features to but my mom. My dad left right after I was born, but that’s another story. The only thing about me that was different from my mom was that I was taller than her, so I must have gotten that from him, I guess.

  As I stared at myself in the mirror I imagined how Misty would look now. Would we look just alike? Would she have the same hair length and color as mine? Would she be taller? I stood there and considered what her life would be like. What would my life be like, with her in it?

  Humm! I sighed at the thought. I will never know.

  I walked over to the kitchen, turned on the coffeemaker, and made some toast. My apartment was pretty big. Compared to apartments in the Bay Area, in Seattle you got more for your money. The rent was almost as much as a San Francisco apartment, but it was still affordable.

  When the coffeemaker stopped brewing, I grabbed a mug and put in cream and sugar, and sipped my way into coffee heaven.

  I walked over to my computer stand, turned the computer on, and typed in expedia.com in search of cheap airline tickets.

  “Well, Kim chi,” I said to my cat, who was in the kitchen eating his food, paying me no attention, “California, here we come…again!”

  Chapter Four

  “She grabbed my face, placing one hand on each side of my cheeks and saying, ‘Mi Amore.’ ”

  After hours of searching, I finally found a plane ticket that wouldn’t cost me an arm and a leg for just a short trip. At work that day I told my boss I was going out of town the next weekend. I worked at a small café just around the corner from my apartment. It was a part-time gig, while I finished up school at the University of Washington. He was fine with it, of course. “Just as long as you come back,” he said with a laugh.

  “Oh, don’t you worry,” I said. “I’ll be back before you know it.” Already I couldn’t wait to come back, and I hadn’t even left yet. It was sad to think that I didn’t want to be around my family. I loved my family so much that I couldn’t bear to see them hurt in any way.

  “Aww! Sissy, you leaving us?” my coworker Carol asked.

  “It’s only for the weekend,” I said.

  “OK,” she said, with a pout in her lips. I laughed, because she looked like a sad puppy with those big black eyes and pigtails on both sides of her head. I just shook my head. She was so melodramatic.

  As the week went by, I thought about the things I needed to do before I left on Friday. I had to find somewhere for Kim chi to go. Luckily, my neighbors Rose and John said they would look after the butterball for me. I was so relieved, because I did not want to leave him in the apartment by himself. Cats like to get into things, believe it or not, and I was not about to come home to a dead cat. No way. Not again.

  So not only did I have to get my things together, I had to get Kim chi’s things together, too. His food, litter box, toys, hairbrush, flea medicine. Gosh, this is worse than getting things together for a baby! I thought. But he is my baby, and the only one I will ever have.

  When Thursday came, I started to get knots in my stomach. Maybe I should stay here and cancel my tickets, I thought to myself. I took three deep breaths, and told myself, It will be OK, just try and keep a small distance. But it would be so hard, I had not hugged my mom in years! I missed her warm hugs and motherly scent. I missed being able to lie on her lap, while she rubbed my hair and sang me to sleep.

  I sat in the middle of the living room. As I packed I thought about all the things I missed about her. A pinch of guilt came over me, and I started sobbing. I missed my family so much. It was hard for me to stay away, but this was the only way I knew of to protect them from me and my deadly visions.

  On my way to the airport I was feeling like this was a bad idea. I was just a few hours away from greeting my family, my mom, and my past. I kept trying to tell myself, “Sissy, it will be OK,” but the surge in my spine said that it wouldn’t. No turning around now, Sissy, you’re just a few minutes away from the airport.

  I continued to drive, looking at the sky and the clouds. Seattle has no sense of color, whatsoever. Maybe it would be good to go away for a few days. Just to get some sun. It was August on the calendar, but January in Seattle. I parked my car at the Park and Fly, got my receipt, and headed for airline’s entrance.

  When I walked in, there was a cool breeze in the air. They must have turned on the air conditioning. What for? I wondered. It’s not like it’s hot outside. While standing in line I grabbed my sweater from my carry-on bag. I don’t care if they say it’s August, I still think it’s January! I laughed to myself. The man in front of me turned around and looked at me as if I was crazy. I stopped smiling, embarrassed.

  I checked in my luggage and walked to gate 1. My flight was right on time: 10:30 a.m. “Southwest Airlines is now boarding passengers for Flight 213,”the female voice said over the loudspeaker. That was my cue. The passengers boarded the plane, and I followed right behind them.

  I walked through the plane to look for my seat. Ah, yes, a window seat! At least I will have something to look at, when I stop reading my book. I put my carry-on bag on top in the little compartment, and sat down.

  After a few more minutes of boarding, I sighed with relief that no one sat next to me. It was bad enough that I had to deal with going home; the last thing I wanted to deal with was a vision on the way there. And just as I thought this, the flight attendant touched me on the shoulder.

  I gasped for air and a burst of red light flashed in my face. I saw a crowd of people at the airport, at the foot of a stairway near the baggage claim. Everything was moving in slow motion. I walked slowly over to where the crowd was. Two men in red uniforms, carrying a stretcher, passed by me. I walked through the crowd of people—none of them saw me. I saw a woman lying on the floor, stiff as a board. She had on a blue uniform, and black shoes. The bag that she was carrying must have fallen over, because it was on its side at the bottom of the stairs.

  One of the young men in red uniform was checking to see if she was breathing… she was not, I saw by his reaction. He mouthed, “Now! Now Now!” and the rest of his crew came running with the stretcher. One leg was twisted in the air; its shoe had fallen off and lay on the ground beside her.

  Blood dripped from her mouth, and I noticed a pool of blood escaping from the top of her head. I felt s
o sick. I could smell the fresh stench from where I was standing. Her eyes were closed tight. The blood ran from her head to her blouse, painting it with the scarlet color. I looked around the airport to see where the accident had taken place: OAKLAND INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT. I shook my head no in disbelief, and I came back to myself.

  “Honey, you OK?” the flight attendant said to me, still touching my shoulder. I blinked twice and turned my head. It was her—the woman I saw. She smiled at me, and I gave her a fake smile…the usual fake smile.

  “Did you need anything to make your flight more comfortable?” Yeah, an exorcist, I thought, as I shook my head no. A feeling of nerves came over me and I started to shake. “OK, well let me know if you need anything.”

  “Thank you,” I said in a squeaky voice. She turned away to check on the person behind me. She was beautiful. She had long black hair and hazel eyes. Her skin was tan and lovely, and her height was supermodel perfect.

  I wanted to cry badly. I put on my seatbelt and curled up to the window, and started biting my tongue. When I bit my tongue, it helped me not to start crying and freaking out. I wanted to cry the pain out, to scream, to fall on my knees and pray to God to help me get an understanding or better control of this, or to get rid of whatever I had. But every time I prayed, it was like I was talking with myself.

  “Next stop, Oakland, California,” the pilot said over the loudspeaker. I curled up and forced myself to sleep the whole way there. I would rather be sleep-dreaming than awake-dreaming. The ones when I was awake were always deadly.

  “We are now approaching Oakland International Airport.” I woke up as I heard the pilot over the intercom. Yawning from my peaceful dream, I pulled back my arms and made a nice stretch. “I so needed that,” I said to myself. I hadn’t had a good sleep like that in months—it felt so good to get an hour and a half nap in. There was no telling when I might have a peaceful dream again. I quickly gathered my thoughts, straightened myself up, and looked out the window.