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Fiction Speculative Science Fiction

December 30, 2021

Something Jack said last week is still really bugging me and it’s not the “we should break up” part of it. It was within the reasoning for that statement. He said he couldn’t get past my career and told me to hit him up if I ever “do something real.” First off, I will not be hitting him up, ever. We knew all along I can do better and he really did not respect that fact. But I digress. 

Now usually when people take issue with a career path that includes the term “real,” it’s because people are chasing dreams and not making money or making money doing something that doesn’t fit within the usual definition of a “job.” That’s not the case here. I work regular hours, I make good money, and I have set responsibilities. He thinks that what I do for my job in itself is “fake” or “dishonest” or “wrong.” I disagree. 

If I had the right degree, I’d be called a psychologist or a psychiatrist. But because I didn’t spend six figures on a piece of paper certifying my skill, I can’t advertise myself in that way, so I’m forced to operate under a different job title. Now *technically* Jack isn’t wrong; I’m not a psychic. But what I tell people is real. The help I give is real. My intuition is real. 

No, I can’t read minds or see the future or get visions of a person’s life just by meeting them. But deep down, all my clients know this. They may claim to believe, they may even honestly believe they believe, but deep down they wouldn’t be surprised if I said “I can’t read you’re mind at all, I can just read you,” they would feel something being confirmed as true, not being debunked. 

So, Jack, what I do is real. It’s based no less in fact than your projections for market changes that you use to make all your decisions with other people’s money. I guess that’s that. 

January 2, 2022

The weirdest thing happened today. After taking yesterday off, I met a new client to do a reading, which I intended to mean reading the client per usual, and the information just kinda appeared in my mind. It’s hard to explain, but normally when I read people I can tell you exactly how I know what I say. Today I have no rationale for what I said, but it was all right. 

For example, usually I say “I get the feeling you were on your own a lot in high school,” because they have terrible hygiene or are wearing a “Death to Fakers” shirt or something.

Today a well-groomed, well-dressed, polite, overall normal-seeming man sat down in front of me and I immediately saw him, or a younger, skinnier him with long stringy hair in his thickly-lined eyes and an outfit straight out of Hot Topic, sitting at an empty table in a bustling cafeteria. Logically, he could’ve been the first one of his friends to get through the line, but I knew he was a goth in a high school without a goth group and no one was coming. It went against all that I’d normally gather from a guy like him, but he was a first-timer so if he never came back I’d be okay and I chose to go with these insane whims. They were ALL RIGHT. 

I’ve never experienced anything like that. The rest of the reading was the same. I knew exactly when he re-invented himself and exactly why he was there. I normally let my clients do a lot of talking so I can gather more information from the source itself, but there was no need for that here. The second I got one thing out, more information took its place. Needless to say, he’s coming back, but I can’t figure out what happened and this journal has never failed me in working through my problems. 

That said, I still have no answer. Maybe it was a one-time coincidence? I’m sure he was giving me reasons for my guesses and I just subconsciously made connections so I didn’t notice. I have been doing this for a while now; it could have become a habit by now. Hopefully, I can just write this little incident off as all in my head.

January 7, 2022

It’s getting hard to tell myself that it’s just my subconscious making connections and believe it. All week, my predictions have been instant, baseless, and 100% accurate. Clients I’ve been seeing for years have brought on wild guesses I would never have believed of them a week ago. For example, Sarah, the stay-at-home mother who was a cheerleader in high school and married a banker has been a client for 3 years. I’ve correctly her pegged as a teenage basic bitch turned college sorority girl turned suburban housewife so she’d never have to work and could just maintain her image just like her mom and her sorority sisters. Boring right? What I totally missed was her suppressed sexuality and her affair with her best friend Carol, who is actually her 6th female relationship. If she’d flat-out admitted that to my face last week, I would’ve laughed and written it off as a grab for attention. 

That’s just one example. Things just like that have been nonstop all week. I can’t rationalize it anymore. I don’t know how I can tell things like that about people. Maybe after all this time, I’ve picked up on things I didn’t even know I was picking up on? And with new clients I’ve just gotten better at doing more with less? Have I really gotten that good at reading people? I guess that’s the only explanation…

January 11, 2022

I’ve been trying not to pay much mind to my new subconscious shortcuts to information, but today was truly unexplainable. I was walking down the street and I bumped -- more was bumped by-- some jerk on the phone and I just knew he’d die when he turned the corner. I shook it off because knowing when someone will die is crazy. Not to mention, he didn’t seem like someone who’d be receptive to someone telling him they had a feeling he’d die if he turned a corner. Still, I couldn’t get past the dread growing heavier as he moved closer and closer to the corner. As he reached it I couldn’t stop myself from calling out “No, stop!”

But it was too late

He turned the corner and I heard a scream and ran towards it. I came around the very same corner he’d just rounded and there he was. On the ground. Under an AC. I joined the group of onlookers staring into the sky and saw a head poking out the window looking down, mouth agape. I can’t explain why, but I ran. I ran all the way back. I contemplated turning myself in, but I didn’t do anything. But that’s the problem. 

I keep telling myself there was nothing I reasonably could have done. He wouldn’t have listened. I could have tackled him to the ground, but then I’d be in jail and he probably still would have turned the corner. Would the AC still have fallen right when he turned? Even if it didn’t, no one would ever believe that I saved his life. I probably wouldn’t even believe it. Still. I did nothing. I didn’t even try. I didn’t even give him a chance to surprise me and believe me. 

January 12, 2022

I spent a long time trying to figure out who to talk to about unexplainable hunches that are startling accurate to an almost psychic extent. A doctor would put my in a mental institution. A “psychic” would just think I’m a fraud like them. I somehow landed on Jack, who told me it’s Karma for pretending for so long, which is bullshit and hurtful. 

First of all, I needed some support and comfort while I’m all freaked out. Not to be told “That’s what you get.” Second, I never made an untrue claim. I said I would read people and tell them things about themselves no one knows. I did that. I still do that. Third of all, regardless of the implications of those previous claims, I never once claimed to know anything about the future. So what, I’m getting the abilities I “pretended” to have AND new and improved mythical abilities? 

Overall, I feel worse now than ever before. So fuck you Jack. Again. 

January 19, 2022

I’ve become a hermit. The less I encounter people the better. I don’t want to know these personal things about people, and I definitely don’t know what’s going to happen to them. I don’t know what to do with that information. There’s no good solution.

If I bump into someone on the street and now I know they’re about to get fired, then what? Warning them is not only useless to the end result, but makes me look insane. I mean I’m sure that lady thought about my words when she was fired later that day, but it didn’t change her telling me to “fuck off psycho” in the moment when I warned her. 

I haven’t had any more prenomitions of death, but I don’t want to risk it. My clients are getting antsy without their appointments, but I can’t risk seeing what’s next for them. I have connections with them, so I couldn’t keep it to myself. And then what? THey either think I’m crazy or they think I’m really psychic. If they believe I can predict the future, they’llstart expecting that from me? And I don’t know how lng this will last. Maybe I can just wait it out. I don’t think I can live liek this much longer otherwise.

End of entries found in decedent’s home. Pages were strewn chaotically around the apartment, as was most of the personal property of decedent. This supports initial theories of a mental breakdown which caused the fall which killed her. No further investigation required.

January 06, 2022 00:19

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1 comment

Randi King
01:25 Jan 14, 2022

Wow, the ending! I love the journal style of the piece. And all of those thoughts and questioning oneself is spot on. Great job with that! Very creative and dark. I would have liked to see just a bit more spiraling out of control in the piece, but I do understand it is a short work!


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