Vision Story
Matthew Ryan Fischer
Derrick was sitting at a table drinking a strange mixture of
something that Marc couldn’t quite make out. Derrick turned and saw Marc and
smiled. He waved at Marc to join him and opened his mouth to speak. But when he
did, no sound came out. Derrick was trying to tell him something, but Marc
couldn’t tell what it was. Derrick drank the strange drink and smiled, little
bits of drool running down the sides of his mouth.
Marc was there, but he wasn’t. Everything moved too slow and then
too fast. There were missing pieces like a dream where people jumped from one
location to the next. But the transitions all made sense to Marc. That didn’t
seem unnatural at all.
The phone ringing woke Marc up. He was groggy and upset; he hadn’t
had enough sleep.
Marc just stayed in bed and let the phone ring. He was in no rush
to get up. He hadn’t had a dream like that in months, maybe a year or more. He
didn’t do that anymore. Not since the last time they had all been together. It
wasn’t a powerful vision, it was just unexpected. He forgot how draining they could
be. He hadn’t expected it or wanted it. Now he was stuck with it, not sure what
to do with it.
The visions were always his least favorite part. He didn’t want
the ability. Some of the others were actually jealous of him. He would have
traded if he could have. He didn’t need things invading his mind. There was no
joy in that. It never felt safe or relaxed. He was always on edge waiting for
the next one. It was a high price to pay to receive very mixed and unclear
messages about things that weren’t certain to actually occur. He had gotten to
see the past a few times, but learned that those visions were just as
unreliable. There was no clear or discernible reason for this. Sometimes they
were real, sometimes they weren’t. Sometimes they were just random images.
Sometimes he had no clue what any of it meant until after the real event had
come and gone. Precognition wasn’t very useful if you couldn’t tell what you
were seeing.
He saw Derrick last night though. He hadn’t seen Derrick in almost
two years. No one had. One day he was there, the next gone. No one was able to
track him down or find out what happened. There were a lot of theories and none
of them were good. Derrick had been working on something in private – a real
game changer. He had disappeared into his work, and then disappeared for real.
Marc finally got out of bed and made his way to making some coffee.
After that he was ready to check his messages. It was Molly. She had been
talking to Trent and Trent had been looking for Derrick again and now Derrick
was gone too.
Marc deleted the message. He closed his eyes and tried to dream.
He used to be able to do that. He used to just close his eyes and drift off. He
wanted to see Derrick or Molly or Trent. He wanted to know. He wanted a vision
to work. Just once, he wanted it to be clear and to be able to tell what the
hell was going on.
Marc couldn’t dream. He couldn’t remember what he had dreamt the
night before. He couldn’t make any of it work. He considered not calling Molly
back. He missed her feverishly, but at the same time he didn’t miss any of the
drama that came with knowing everyone and being a part of it. He was sure he
was going to call her, but he wanted to act for a moment like he had any choice
in the matter. The problem with knowing psychics and spellcasters was you never
knew what was real and what was forced. You had no idea if something was your
idea or desire or if free will existed at all. He wanted to take a moment and
pretend that if he called her it was his choice and not some predestined
outcome to some plan or fate or spell.
Marc walked down a brick alleyway, past back entrances to stores
and restaurant patios. At the end of the alley was a hookah bar that sold
Turkish coffee. At the end of the alley was Derrick.
Marc wasn’t shocked at all to see him. It only made sense. All the
sense in the world. Derrick was the only one who would have any answers. Of
course Derrick would bring him here.
“I’ve missed you.”
“Why don’t you sit down and have a drink?”
“Where have you been?”
“Here.”
“Here? You’ve been in a coffeehouse for two years?”
“We’re not in a coffeehouse. Not really…” Derrick was slow to
speak. There was something he was swallowing, something painful and dark that
he didn’t want to talk about. “First I was… somewhere else. Somewhere worse.
Now we’re here.”
“I was here before. You tried to speak to me, but I couldn’t hear
anything.”
“I don’t remember that. I feel like I’ve been here forever. I
can’t remember.”
“You look older.”
“I feel older. How long did you say I’ve been here?”
“Two years.”
“It feels like a hundred.”
“Everyone misses you.”
“I’d like to come back.”
“Then why don’t you?”
“It won’t let me.”
“It? What is it?”
“Shhh! I’ve said too much. I shouldn’t have said anything. Not
yet. Not—“
The coffee mug smashing on the ground woke Marc up. He was in his
kitchen, spaced out and not thinking straight. Below the mug was broken into a
hundred pieces. He got mad at himself. He wasn’t normally so absentminded or
clumsy. Still, he couldn’t remember why he was standing there.
Derrick, Molly, and Trent.
The names popped into his head. They meant nothing to him. Marc
wondered why he had thought about them.
What had he been doing last night and why was he so tired? He was
exhausted all over.
He looked down at the floor and stared at the coffee stains,
trying to remember something. What was so important about the coffee? What was
so important that he couldn’t remember?
Marc and Derrick sat in the hookah bar and listened to the music
from a band. They smiled and laughed and drank their Turkish coffee. They
opened their mouths to speak but no sounds ever came out. Derrick looked
worried when that happened. Marc could see it on his face. He wondered why. It
wasn’t strange, no not at all. They always sat here and laughed and spoke
without speaking. Derrick kept trying to say something, but Marc didn’t
understand. He didn’t know what was so important.
Marc ordered another coffee. When it came, he just sat there and
stared into the darkness, trying to think of something, something lost,
something forgotten. Something was stopping him from thinking, but he couldn’t
tell what. They loved the coffee smell. He almost didn’t want to drink it. He
just wanted to sit there and smell it and feel something, but he wasn’t sure
what.
Marc looked and Derrick and smiled. Derrick looked frightened and
then smiled and laughed. They laughed and laughed and laughed and forgot all
about whatever it was they were trying to say to each other.
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