Instincts

I couldn’t figure it out; what was going to go wrong? Why were my instincts fighting me so hard now, telling me to stay in my car and just drive home? After all, it was those same handy instincts that brought me to the supermarket in the first place. I was just stocking up on some supplies for this surprise, upcoming blizzard, then I would be gone. I had the feeling that I should actually put some food in my completely empty kitchen, so I drove to the store, learning during the drive on the radio that an unexpected blizzard was on its way. True, the blizzard was now here, but I would be quick enough that the roads shouldn’t get too icy or anything. No, my instincts pushing me to stay away from the store must be due to my temptation to buy some doughnuts while I was there. I just would steer clear of the bakery. Simple. That must be it. So I decidedly put my hand on my car door handle, pushed down and opened the door. A snowy gust immediately blew the door back in on me, leaving my face lightly dusted with icy flakes. Taking a deep breath, I tried again, this time succeeding, and made my way toward the supermarket. But still, I couldn’t shake the feeling: what was going to go wrong?

I always thought that my instincts were particularly good; not “good” in the way most people think that they are better than the average driver, but good in a way I honestly believed stood apart from most people. I mean, it’s not like I would have cherry-picked this one skill. My friend Fernanda can charm her way through any situation. That kind of skill seems much handier. But I suppose my skill is practical enough. My instincts saved my life once. One night, I was out getting gas really late, and wanted to run in and grab some doughnuts before heading home. But something stopped me. Everything looked fine. I decided to just go with my gut; I was tired anyways. The next day, curious what my fit could have been about, I looked up any news about the gas station. To my surprise, it got robbed just two minutes after I left, with the robber shooting up the aisles multiple times to show the cashier he meant business, aisles I would have been in. That was a situation where I was truly glad to have my particular skill, and not another. But usually, my instincts simply allowed me to have the good sense to wash up before an unexpected visit from a friend or double check that my phone was actually plugged in and charging. So probably nothing, nothing will go wrong. I just won’t get those doughnuts.

I walked into the store, saw a clerk, nodded a hello, and then continued on into the store. But before I got that far, I heard a sound, almost like the howling of the blizzard outside; but something was strange: it sounded like it was coming from the frozen foods aisle, from inside the store. I glanced back at the clerk, but they were gone. I looked around. No other living soul was around. I got a sudden chill. Maybe I should just go back home now after all. Then immediately, my attention was back on the strange noise as it became more of a crying sound: a baby. I started for the frozen aisle, turned into it, and then saw what must be the source of the cries: a little bundle. No, no, this must have been what my instincts were trying to warn me of. The bundle was undenyingly a baby, and it was still. And now, it was quite.

I hurried over to the baby, fearing the worst. It was completely covered in a blanket, even its face. I reached out and carefully picked up the child. As I lifted the infant, a sense of utter terror flooded through me that chilled me down to my bones in a way the blizzard outside never truly could. I knew I had to uncover the little bundle’s face, had to check that it was okay. But my instincts stopped me, paralyzing me from performing the simple action of sweeping the cloth-covering aside. Time stopped flowing. My heart throbbed loudly. No air remained in the store to breath. The lights suddenly flickered, and released me from my peculiar spell. There was no logical reason not to look now; my instincts must have been trying to warn me this baby was here and there was nothing I could do to save it. My instincts were just trying to save me the pain of being the one to find the poor child. But I had found the child, so I had to do it now, had to see if there was even the slightest chance that the mysterious face inches away from my fingers still breathed, had to do it before my petrified state returned. I uncovered the baby’s face. As I gazed into the little creature’s, dark, commanding eyes, I felt not what I feared might return, that shrill terror I experienced before, but a calm, an engulfing calm, a mind-numbing calm, a calm I only would feel in the company of close family or friends. No, that wasn’t quite right. It was a calmness, but also a sense of complete understanding that I had only encountered before in myself. Myself? Myself. Sometime while I was looking into the baby’s eyes, a seamless transition occurred where I was first gazing upon them to then gazing from them. I was now seeing from the infant’s eyes, my early terror reigniting and getting multiplied by thousands: I was now looking at myself, or what had been myself, or rather, I was now looking at my body, which now held me. There was, though, a difference. My body now possessed those same, chilling, dark eyes. As I studied the face that had so recently been my own, a slow smile appeared on the lips of that face looking back at me. I could feel my old fingers tighten around my tiny infant torso. My body lifted me up, bring me in closer and closer. When I was near enough to feel this creature’s breath on my face, everything become cold, even its breath. It inhaled then exhaled slowly, releasing snow from its mouth. The blizzard that was outside seemed now to be in the store. Snow, ice, cold everywhere. Everything was white. Even the creature faded, becoming obscured by blizzard. I looked down as much as I could toward my torso. I could barely see it. And then before my very eyes, my torso too began to disappear as I changed, yet again: this time into snowflakes, becoming a part of the very blizzard that had brought me here.