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Post by SEBASTIAN TIMOTHY MARTIN on Feb 23, 2011 20:11:41 GMT -5
Sebastian let his fingers peruse the spines of the books lining the shelves. It was quiet. He felt as if the slightest cough would disturb whatever set silence there was placed upon this place. He breathed but a whisper, his fingers stopping every once in a while to pluck a book from its dusty place. He was looking for something. Something that would explain to him why those things... Those visions inside his mind plagued him.
'A Study of Time and Space... Clairvoyancy: A Hoax... Visions of the Dead.' These are the titles he mulled through in his mind. He picked up each of these, ready to be disappointed again. Most of the books he'd collected were duds. They held nothing of use to him and his investigation into the unknown.
Had it been watching his mother die? For that were the first visions he had. His mother, screaming, over and over again... Was that what triggered this curse? That one traumatic event that would plague his life forever? He was trying to find a reason in these books, but it wasn't to be found. Just mere rubbish, trash that told people all you needed to do to see the dead was "channel some energy." That wasn't what he needed.
The man stopped short when he saw a small paperback title. It was called "The Time Machine." Funny, in all his years of loving science fiction, as well as reading every other H.G. Wells novel, he had never bothered to read this one. It suited him rather splendidly, as the only thing in his life at the moment was time and what it had done to him.
He picked up the book, and brought his other books to a table made ready for studying inside the library. He had already set up shop there, notes covering dozens of books, some critizing, some helpful. His note pad was full of different notions he had gathered from the books. Most of them were duds, but every once in a while he would sometimes find a snippet in one book he wanted to expand on, and write it down to look up later.
He sat down, picking up the first book on the new pile. The Time Machine. Such a simple title. Such a short book. Yet he was sure that it contained far more answers than any of the books he had read recently on his... "topic" of choice.
He began to read.
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dahlia
Junior Member
Ashes to Ashes...
Posts: 59
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Post by dahlia on Feb 23, 2011 21:22:19 GMT -5
Dahlia had been feeling a pressure building up in her chest all week. Most people, in this situation, would attribute it to some medical condition- as it was painful and rather suspicious -and find a doctor. She, though, knew better than that; it was The Pull. She had felt it all her life, from the very first death she could remember to any number of ones she had read yesterday. It wasn't anything she could control- it was like the urge to go to the bathroom, or a woman pushing during birth. The Pull had taken her as far as Oregon before.
Now, though, it was taking her somewhere new. She now staggered along the street, pushing through the crowds, the black bandanna that swept her hair away from her shoulders fluttering violently. Her eyes were wider than normal- The Pull was so strong... almost painful, thumping in her chest like a second heart.
She became aware of the route she was going- it was a route she often took. The library... What could be there? Not a dead body, certainly, so it had to be a person that she needed to see. Someone whose tragic future had to be altered.
She was frantic now, being pulled on so violently, causing her to stumble up the library stairs. She was usually so slow, and when she was fast, she was smooth about it; it was strange to feel like this. But she kept on as best she could, pushing through the doors and pausing a moment in the lobby.
Everything was silence- dead, cold silence -which only enhanced the strength of The Pull, making it hard not to stumble through the rooms. Eventually, after limping through many rooms, she came into a dusty hall, which was buzzing with death. Either there was a mass burial under the floor of this room, or there was a mass murderer somewhere. She had dealt with both before.
Looking around, she finally saw the person she was looking for, and The Pull very suddenly dissolved. All of the pressure was taken out of her chest in a great release, and her posture relaxed. Regaining her usual demeanor, she began to glide toward the person. Only once she was very close did she realize that he was not a mass murderer.
He was like her.
If she could talk, she would have started yelling excitedly at him. But, as it was, all she could do was scurry up to him and catch his arm.
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Post by SEBASTIAN TIMOTHY MARTIN on Feb 24, 2011 7:05:50 GMT -5
'There is no difference between Time and any of the three dimensions of Space except that our consciousness moves along it.'
He read that from the novel. But what did it mean? That he was so perceptive that he saw time as he would see another person standing in front of him? Then why couldn't he turn these things off? He didn't want them, although it did help those in need. He just couldn't do it anymore.
Or maybe he was just thinking to far into this. This wasn't nonfiction, it was science fiction. He must treat it as such. But he'd always been one to take things in sci-fi to heart. There was always some semblence of truth scattered throughout these books and movies. You had to base this kind of fiction on fact, or else it wouldn't work.
So perhaps he was getting somewhere. He decided to check this book out and save it for later, when he was home. If he got too excited about it, he might just disturb the peace in this library. He remembered his place in the book, and picked up "A Study of Time and Space." He sighed, hoping this would be better reference material.
Before he could start reading, however, he felt a presence near him. It was almost cold, like death, but it was very much alive. It scared him. Then, he felt a hand touch his arm, and he almost jumped in his seat. He turned around to see who it was, but then relaxed. It was only a woman. She looked harmless enough.
He whispered quietly, "Can I help you?"
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dahlia
Junior Member
Ashes to Ashes...
Posts: 59
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Post by dahlia on Feb 24, 2011 11:41:09 GMT -5
Dahlia's eyes were wide in disbelief a moment- she looked like a dead thing with her eyes wide open like that -but then her mouth sprung into a grin. It wasn't a normal grin, but rather the grin of someone who never really learned how to make their face smile correctly; it was a jagged, lopsided smile. She nodded and then looked behind her, at a table that had a few random stacks of books on it, as well as Sebastian's stack of books. Dahlia looked at him and nodded again, more fervently, and then pulled out a chair, forcing him to sit. She looked so willowy, but she actually was very forceful. She then took a seat next to him, sitting sideways in the chair so that she was facing him. She had never seen such a beautiful man in her life- and not like that, because she had never been romantically inclined. It was just knowing what he was that made him like a savior, in that moment. To meet someone like her was an amazing experience, and she doubted he had ever met someone like him either. Hopefully, he would realize soon. Again, she nodded fervently, her spidery hands roaming over the pile of books he was looking at. She started to pick through them, the grin on her face disappearing into a more concentrated expression. Dahlia picked up one book, Talking to the Dead, and shook her head, pushing it to the side. That was the only book that didn't seem to belong- the rest were about time and dimensions; she guessed that that was what his power had to do with. How excited she was! And she looked it too, she really did. Her appearance was somewhat like a kid on Christmas morning, all quivering and giggling. Of course, she couldn't giggle, but if she could, she would be. She smiled a little at Sebastian and then took the notepad from its place on her belt, beginning to write. After a moment, she ripped off the piece of paper and slid it across the table to him.
I'm like you.
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Post by SEBASTIAN TIMOTHY MARTIN on Feb 24, 2011 18:59:55 GMT -5
Sebastian was in complete confusion. This woman, perusing around his books, with childish glee was a bit unsettling. He blinked a few times just to be sure she was real. She didn't even seem it, with her crooked smile and etheral beauty. He tilted his head to the side as she wrote on that little notepad she seemed to keep everywhere she went. At least that's what it seemed like to him. Why would she clip it to her belt if not? He assumed that she came to the library often, and didn't want to disturb everyone. "I'm like you." It said. Like him? What did that mean? That she was gay? Was it that obvious that he was homo? I mean, sure he usually wore a pretty flamboyant scarf, but that was about it. He didn't even walk gay. He didn't walk like a straight guy either, but that was besides the point. In order to humour her, he wrote down his response on one of his sheets of scattered paper, in his messy scrawl. I'm sorry, but, I don't understand.
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dahlia
Junior Member
Ashes to Ashes...
Posts: 59
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Post by dahlia on Feb 24, 2011 19:32:55 GMT -5
Dahlia's face fell, absolute heartbreak showing in her eyes for a moment. He didn't understand what she meant? But... didn't he feel it too? The pressure, the buzzing, the energy that was just bursting from him? She definitely didn't have it wrong... no, he had to be like her. Her expression turned hopeful in a second and she picked up her pen.
What do you do? Do you read deaths, like me? Her mouth came together in a very small, melancholy smile. spidery hands undid the tie under her chin, letting her feathery hair slip over her shoulders and into her eyes. When she swiped it out of the way, Dahlia looked up at him a moment, her expression still hopeful. She obviously wasn't playing a trick on him; either she was completely insane, or...
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Post by SEBASTIAN TIMOTHY MARTIN on Feb 24, 2011 22:00:42 GMT -5
What do you do? Do you read deaths, like me?Sebastian raised his eyebrow. Read deaths? What was she talking about? Like in an obituary? Sure, he'd read them, and feel sorry for them. Sometimes they would be people he'd have visions of, but couldn't save, or they died before he had the vision. Those pained him the most. He could just SEE them dying... He could imagine the stench of their blood, pooling all around them, choking their senses til they thought no more. He had watched them die, one by one, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He tried, but sometimes... Sometimes he failed. He had begun to form tears in his eyes, and he quickly wiped them away before she could see. He nudged a book away from him, the one that said "Talking to the Dead." He didn't even want to think about talking to them. Consoling them would be nice, but he'd end up throwing up in the process. Instead he focused his sights on "The Time Machine." It comforted him a bit. What did she mean by reading deaths? It couldn't possibly mean the obituaries. She had been looking at his books. Maybe... Something paranormal. His face brightened a bit at this, but he still seemed incredulous. Shrugging sadly, with a sigh, he moved to reply to her. He scribbled down on the paper: I only read deaths when I don't see them.
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dahlia
Junior Member
Ashes to Ashes...
Posts: 59
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Post by dahlia on Feb 24, 2011 22:19:58 GMT -5
Her grin returned, her eyes brightening. She picked up her pen again, and it hovered over the paper while she thought. This was it... she'd finally found someone like her! Maybe he didn't have the same powers as her, he was still like her, and she'd been looking for him for so long... You don't know how long I've waited for you. Dahlia looked back up at him, and then at his book, The Time MACHINE. Looking at him for quick consent, she picked it up, her spindly fingers twitching as she turned it over in her hands. In that long moment of silence, she read the back and then turned it over again and again... she seemed enthralled with it. His power had something to do with time, that she had picked up... he had written something about seeing deaths. He must see them before they happened! Yes, that was it; and he had to save people from them when he could... like her. She focused more on the redemption of the person, to save themselves- but when she saw, say, someone about to get in a taxi that would crash in three minutes... well, she couldn't just let it happen. She then looked back up at him, smiling her melancholy smile and nodding.
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Post by SEBASTIAN TIMOTHY MARTIN on Feb 24, 2011 22:54:02 GMT -5
You don't know how long I've waited for you.Waited? Wait... Wait... She couldn't be serious, could she? His eyes widened in an almost realization. No... No it couldn't be. It couldn't be that easy, Sebastian, he thought. It can't be so easy that she's just like you... Could it? She picked up his novel, and watched her turn it over in her hands. It seemed to make her happy, as that eerie grin returned to her face. He hesitated. He wasn't sure what she was thinking exactly. He decided to investigate more. Waited for what? Are... Are you saying that you can see it like me? I mean... It can't be that easy, right? What exactly... is it that you're talking about?
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dahlia
Junior Member
Ashes to Ashes...
Posts: 59
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Post by dahlia on Feb 24, 2011 23:03:51 GMT -5
Dahlia kept smiling as she watched the realization in his face. He was going through the same process she had- disbelief, joy, confusion... she could see it all in his face. Oh, but if he didn't believe her after this... she could try and read one of the deaths off of him, she supposed, but it would be hard- her realm was the future, and though she could extend to plains of the past, it took a lot of concentration. She picked up her pen again. I know how you're going to die. I know how everyone is going to die. It's my job to help them sponge away the writing on their tombs. She set the pen down again and then looked at him. Usually, Dahlia wouldn't tell anyone about her "gift", but since she knew he went through the same thing, she didn't hesitate.
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Post by SEBASTIAN TIMOTHY MARTIN on Feb 24, 2011 23:16:43 GMT -5
Sebastian was astonished. Her cryptic words baffled him, but they made some sort of sense, nonetheless. She knew how he was going to die? She didn't want her to tell him. Besides, he had already seen his death once. There was absolutely no guarentee that whatever vision she saw wouldn't change. I've already seen my death before, and it didn't happen. I doubt you could see it again and it come true. It all depends on people's descisions. He was stating simple fact. That's all he cared about was fact. Why was this happening to him? To her? Whatever it was she had, it seemed... different than his predicament. Who was this girl, and why was she here? How did she KNOW? Who are you?
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dahlia
Junior Member
Ashes to Ashes...
Posts: 59
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Post by dahlia on Feb 24, 2011 23:26:53 GMT -5
Dahlia sighed and then lifted her pen, beginning to write out a small explanation: Of course you can change your death. But do you know your current status? You change the way you die every single day, sometimes more than once. I can tell you how you'll die currently. My job is to help those who can avoid a terrible death, or a lonely death, by fixing their lives. Suddenly, a little burst of energy flew off of him and to her, and she suddenly scribble down: Do you know a murderer? Dahlia still hadn't answered the question, "Who are you?"
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Post by SEBASTIAN TIMOTHY MARTIN on Feb 24, 2011 23:44:18 GMT -5
"Please, don't tell me how I die!" he said frantically, almost loud enough for the other library patrons to hear. He covered his mouth, embarrassed. I'm sorry, I'd just rather not know. He pondered what she'd said. Of course he'd been NEAR murderers. But he'd never known one, personally. That would be a frightening thing to behold indeed. He dreaded the day he did meet one. He shook his head, pointing to her question of it. Can you prove this to me? I'm sorry but, I'd like some evidence before I just believe you.
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dahlia
Junior Member
Ashes to Ashes...
Posts: 59
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Post by dahlia on Feb 25, 2011 0:17:21 GMT -5
"Can you prove this to me?"Her father had never said that... She'd never told anyone but him, so she'd never been asked that. Dahlia understood that it was a little unbelievable, but was it really that hard? Especially since her was like her... She supposed she had to do it, though. Dahlia looked at him a moment, nodded, and then closed her eyes, dropping her pen. She stayed absolutely still and silent, searching for the strongest death on him that wasn't his own. Finally, she felt a suction... a tunnel, tugging at her... a tunnel that she knew connected the past to her delicate state. But she'd never felt a pull this strong. The memory was vivid. "I never had it that good from a whore," said the man, his face darkened, blotted out by fragments of the memory forgotten.
"You say whore like it's a bad thing," said the man on the bed, a charming sort, smiling fondly at the darker person above him. This man's face was extremely vivid, and she almost felt like she could reach out and touch it.
The dark man turned toward Andrew- Andrew! That was his name! -something hidden behind his back. The memory flashed and tapered off, like an old film reel, too spotted for her to make out anything. The foul stench of blood filled her nostrils, and her vision blurred with pink, then black.When Dahlia came out of her state, she was clutching the table to violently that her nails dug into the wood, and she was trembling like a leaf. She quickly picked up the pen and began to scribble violently. Andrew was murdered. By a dark man. I couldn't see his face correctly. Who was Andrew? No, he was your lover. She seemed to be writing things down as she thought them, and then looked up at him. She knew that it would effect him, but she wasn't sure how.
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Post by SEBASTIAN TIMOTHY MARTIN on Feb 25, 2011 12:04:27 GMT -5
Sebastian's heart began pounding the moment she wrote the name "Andrew." The moment she wrote "murdered" he began to cry. He had hoped that these memories... These awful dreams wouldn't haunt him. But she forced him to remember. It wasn't fair that he had been able to witness the man he loved's murder when he wasn't even there. Couldn't it have just been someone telling him what had happened? Couldn't that have been enough torture?
But no, he had to see the screams of pain, the blood spewing everywhere. He had to see the only person he ever cared about (apart from his deceased mother), be ripped open.
He covered his mouth, as if about to throw up. He turned away from her, not wanting to frighten her. How was that possible? That she knew... She could control her visions? He'd always have memories, but he could never control when he had a vision. If that was the case, he would hope that this power of his could change, so that he could stop the visions all together.
"How, how can you do that? How... how could you see his face on a whim like that? That's not possible!" he said in a hushed whisper. He covered her notepad. "Please talk to me! Tell me I'm not going insane!" he sobbed.
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