terribleminds.com challenge for this week is travel. Go from point A to point B. limit 1000 words.  mine 994. http://wp.me/p1BAlV-felicity  

                     Felicity                                           Louise Sorensen April 23, 2012

The train is rolling along, eating up the hours, and I am loving it. Cornfields speed by, miles and miles of short yellow stalks. Planting hasn’t started yet. My boyfriend sits in the seat beside me playing a game on his phone. I wish this could go on forever.

But our drinks are coming. The porter is walking up the aisle, holding a tray. I see him in a vision– the train lurches, or he trips over a rough spot on the carpet, his arms go up, the tray flies through the air the drinks alcoholic missiles headed our way.

But no. Om…om…om. The moment freezes and plays backwards. The drinks sail back onto the tray, the tray flies back into the porter’s hand, his hands go down, all is as it was. I reach into my pocket for a pill. Crunch it down. It’s time, anyway. I’m not sure if these pills really work, or if it’s the placebo effect. But my mind is calming, the rough waters stilling. The squirrel in my head slows down to a walk, a crawl, curls up for a nap.

 I take my Bailey’s from the porter and sip. Shards of glass. My tongue is bleed… No. No glass in my drink. My tongue is not cut. I watch the miles go by through sleepy eyes.

Oh god no! How did I get on a plane? My medic alert bracelet clearly states… the engines sputter… the plane dives. I wake up, drenched in sweat. Cornfields have surrendered to forests. The train is whizzing by so fast I can’t make out individual trees, just a dappled blur of sun and dark. Queasy, I turn away.

 A thought intrudes. The train hits a log on the track, or we’re going too fast around a bend, or… time coils up as the accident gets ready to happen… I seize the future and force it back into… the rhythmic beat of the train wheels, solidly on the track. Everything is fine. There is no train wreck. There will be no disaster. I take a pill from my pocket and crunch it down, calming the storm in my mind. The episodes are coming stronger and more frequently. If it weren’t for the lives that would be lost if I went on a plane, I would fly now, just to get this life over with.

I’ve always known that I would die in an airplane crash. So I don’t fly. It’s been a darkling thought shaping my whole life. Because what I think, becomes reality. I can walk down the street and see a woman with a yellow daffodil on her lapel and a headscarf covering her bald head and think to myself, this woman will recover completely. And she does. I used to visit hospitals, especially the children’s wards, and think, these children will all survive. They will all recover. But I’d stagger the recoveries so as not to raise suspicions. At first I would check back and confirm that all the kids were well. After a while, I didn’t need to check anymore. I just knew.

When I was in my mid twenties, I began to have bad thoughts. Walking down the street, I would look at a woman in a yellow dress and think, that woman is going to fall down. And down she’d go. Those two cars are going to crash. Boom!

 I did a lot of damage before I discovered meditation, and how to stop accidents before they occur. I’ve never let an accident happen and then tried to make it unhappen. I don’t have the nerve. But I think it could be done. I’m sure that once I’m dead though, all of this will stop. Unless someone else is born to replace me. But they can have it. I’ve had enough.

I open my eyes. Someone I can talk to is going to walk down the aisle. Here she is. An elderly lady with white hair, a gray coat and a little hat with a pheasant feather.

 She is a fortune teller. Her gray coat changes to a red shawl. With a black paisley design. Her hair is darker. No hat. She will sit in the seat two down from me. And beckon me to join her. I get up. My boyfriend will have a nap. I look down at his sweet sleeping face.

The fortune teller says, “You have always believed you would die in a plane crash.”

“Yes. I feel it in my bones.”

“But the future is not fixed. You should know that, you set it up and change it all the time.”

“Oh! But I’ve always been afraid of flying. I’ve always known I’m going to die in a plane crash.”

“You could stop your heart anytime you want.”

“And finally be at peace. And the world would go on just fine without me,” I say.

“You just keep thinking those good thoughts, dear. Because there’s something really bad coming up. And you’re running out of time.” She gets up and leaves.

Geez. Wonderful. I go back and sit beside my boyfriend. Squeeze his warm hand gently, not enough to waken him. He has no developing aneurysm. There is nothing wrong with him. But there will be no Tyler Junior, no sweet Olivia. Not for me, anyway.

The train is approaching Montreal. This is as good a time as any. I won’t be dying in a plane crash after all. How silly to have feared flying all these years. I will be dying on a train. To make sure that no one can revive me, I will not only stop, but burst, my heart.



See myself below.

Someone speaks my favourite quote.

“All shall be well… and all shall be well… and all manner of thing… shall be… well.”

About louisesor

As I say in my twitter profile @louise3anne "I am a part of all that I have met..." from one of my favourite poems, 'Ulysses' by Tennyson.I believe that we are ALL a part of all that we have met. You can also find me on FaceBook.
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10 Responses to Felicity

  1. columbibueno says:

    Interesting! I enjoyed this. Hope that agent contacts you. Let’s make it happen.

    • louisesor says:

      Thank you. Always a pleasure. I’m going to present this one at my group today. S/b interesting.
      Fingers crossed on the agent. These things take a long time. : )

  2. Jeff Xilon says:

    Wow, quite a ride. Is she insane? Was she driven insane by her power? This made me think about some of our most fervently held superstitions – about what kind of thoughts we shouldn’t say out loud. ie. Knock on Wood and don’t say things like “What’s the worst that could happen”

  3. WordsFallFromMyEyes says:

    Poetic, I felt.Nice, Louise 🙂

  4. tinksaid says:

    This really is my kind of story. The liquidity of time, the randomness of accidents and illness. And someone with the power to tidy up the mess. Or is it all in the madwoman’s mind? I love the anology of a hyperactive squirrel to those horrible thoughts that circle round and round in your mind if you allow them. Faultless, again. Thank you Louise, even though I’m running behind now just had to say thank you, and how much this spoke to me. Not that I have any small animals ferretting around in my head:D


  5. Mark Horejsi says:

    This was really quite different, and I enjoyed it a lot!

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