Dark Visions (2 page)

The part that scared her was
save
yourself
. Was this a reference to her or was she supposed to
tell Dolan to save himself?

Strange smells came to her. Soft music,
trancelike, issued from small speakers on a table to her left. She
moved on, lost, with no direction, only purpose.

Sarah adjusted and tightened her bandanna.
She couldn't have it get loose and fall off in public. People would
stare and be horrified with all the hair she was missing. She was
diagnosed with
trichotillomania
about six months ago. The
doctor said she was a puller as opposed to a cutter. She remembered
her mother flipping out when she discovered all the missing hair
was Sarah's fault.

Her nose clogged with the smell of incense.
She moved on down the aisle, anxiety twisting her insides. She
realized this could be a failed effort. Men walked past her every
few seconds. She couldn't start asking if they were this guy Dolan.
She didn't want the attention. Why did she have to get these
messages anyway?

A bell sounded somewhere in the building.
She felt people staring. Maybe it was her missing eyebrows drawing
their attention.

She despised weakness. Frustration set in
because her hands were tied. What next?

Oh man, why am I here
, she thought
again.
I am nothing like these people. I'm different. I'm real.
What happens to me is not the same as what these people are
doing.

It was time to leave.

She made it three steps before someone
grabbed her arm.

Sarah jumped and snapped around.

"Hold up there, young lady."

"What's up?" she asked, angry at being
startled.

"I know
what
you are."

An old woman stood before her; the classic
look of a fortuneteller with a headband of her own and wrinkly
skin.

"What do you write in that notebook?"

"What are you talking about?" No one ever
got to look at her notebook.

"Come back to my booth where we can
talk."

"Forget it. I'm done with this place," Sarah
said and started to walk away. Before getting too far, she turned
back. "What did you mean when you said you know what I am?"

"Come back to my booth. I've got a message
for you."

A message?

Sarah nodded and followed her, but not out
of curiosity. She followed her because it was a rare event when
someone didn't stare at her missing eyebrows. This woman held her
gaze as she talked. Sarah followed out of respect.

The old woman shooed away a few people who
huddled around her table and gestured for Sarah to sit down.

"Before we talk I want to know how much
you'll charge when
you
invited
me
."

"No charge." The woman raised her hand in
protest. "I know what you are and you have to stop."

"What am I?"

"You write something in that notebook.
Whatever it is, I feel you act on, or alter your routine because of
it."

How could she know this unless she was
psychic? Sarah bent forward as her stomach clenched. The fear
involved in what she did when answering her precognitions was
nothing compared to being found out. This woman sat across from her
and talked about her notebook as if it's homework and she needs to
see the grade. Impossible. This couldn't be.

She didn't come here to be found out.

What about Dolan? How was he important? Was
she still supposed to find this guy?

"I want to see your notebook."

Sarah tightened her grip on it. Her palms
were sweaty, just like every other time she blacked out.

"Never." She leaned back in her chair. "No
one sees what's in here." She looked around. She needed to get out
of here. "Do you know a man named Dolan?"

"Why did you say that name? Is it in your
notebook? I need to see it because I'm one of the real ones and I
can see you're in a lot of danger. I might be able to help."

It came out so easily; a warning of
danger.

If that were true, how could she just say it
like announcing it was a sunny day? How could she help?

"What danger?" Sarah asked.

The woman leaned forward on her chair and
tried to rise. Sarah noticed how long the woman's earrings were and
wondered how her flesh still held them. They were red dangling
things that rested on her shoulders. They'd long since made this
woman's lobe look like Sarah's baby finger.

"What're you talking about?" Sarah asked
again.

"You're in danger. It'll happen within
twenty-four hours. I've seen people like your kind before. I know
what you are." The old woman was standing now, her face turning a
shade of her earrings. "You're an Automatic Writer, just like me.
That's why I need to see what's in your notebook. Then I'll be able
to tell you about the danger you face because I wrote down that I'd
meet you today."

"Why are you talking in circles? Why aren't
you telling me about the danger?"

"You have a gift," the woman said.

"Hold up. When you told me about danger,
were you threatening me, or were you talking about my
gift
?"

"Sarah, whatever message is in your notebook
I think it's a message for you. I think you need to save
yourself."

How did this woman know her name? And how
does she know the message or where they come from?

Fear almost paralyzed her.

Sarah looked down at her hand. It twitched a
little.

Oh no. Not here.

Her hand twitched again, this time with more
urgency.

Breathing became an effort.

She stood, hopped over the railing on her
right and hustled down an aisle that led out through a crowded area
to the main doors.

She looked back.

No one was following her.

If what that woman said was true, then
trouble was coming and it would be here soon. She felt very alone
in a filled pavilion.

Two people were standing in her way. She
bumped into them, lost her balance and hit the floor.

She felt the familiar signs of a full
blackout as her vision closed down.

Someone was asking if she was okay. She
opened her eyes and immediately went for her notebook.

It was gone.

Her pen rested on the floor beside her.

She made to get to her feet, her eyes
scanning the ground around her for the notebook.

"I was asking if you were okay."

"I'm fine," Sarah said as she bent to pick
up her pen.

"You appeared to blackout or something. You
scribbled in your notebook and then...are you sure you're
okay?"

The man glared at her. He appeared quite
upset. His voice contradicted his eyes. Some of her resolve came
back. She regained her footing and along with that, some of her
tenacity.

"I'm fine," Sarah repeated. "Where is my
notebook?"

"Let me introduce myself. I'm the president
of the Psychic Fair. My name is Dolan Ryan. The woman giving you a
reading was Esmerelda."

Dolan
.

In the flesh.

She couldn't believe it. Here he was, the
man she was to see, but her notebook was gone.

"Do you have my notebook?"

"I saw you writing in it. I was talking to
my assistant Alex when you bumped into us. Then you got up. I don't
see it anymore."

What did he have to look so mad for? It was
an accident. She could see it in his eyes. A fleeting glare, a
flame meant to express distaste.

If her notebook fell into the wrong hands,
Sarah was done for. It held information about the last six months
of accidents and crimes she witnessed and stopped; a beating, the
kidnapping of Mary Bennet, car accidents.

It felt like the pavilion grew darker,
smaller.

Was this the danger she was in? Would the
police get her notebook and want to talk to her?

She backed away from Dolan. With a glance to
her right, she saw the old woman, Esmerelda, watching her. So she
had followed her from the booth.

Her parents walked up.

"Sarah, we're here to pick you up. Are you
done yet?"

She turned toward them and almost hugged her
mother.

"Honey, what's wrong? Are you okay?"

Sarah stepped away and moved back to
Dolan.

The tension in the air was palpable.

Speaking loud enough for Dolan to hear, she
said, "I was sent here to give you a message:
Save
yourself
."

"What was that all about? Who was that man
and the old woman who was staring bullets into you?"

She ran from the building without her
notebook, her parents trailing behind.

"I'll tell you on the way home," Sarah
said.

They left the Psychic Fair not knowing the
message '
save yourself
' was meant for Sarah.

Chapter 3

Someone like her should never be here. Why
did Sarah have to come?

The fair closed twenty minutes ago. The area
she stood in was dark except for a few random night lights. There
was just enough illumination for her to see which way to walk out
to her trailer in the back.

The last piece to stow away was her crystal
ball. The one prop she hated the most because of how fake it was.
To have someone with her talents using such a prop seemed
disrespectful. It was all for show. Everything was for show. That
was the way the public had to see it as per Dolan.

"Esmerelda."

She jumped, almost dropping her crystal
ball. Without speaking, she turned and set the ball back down on
the table.

"What do you want?" Real worry coursed
through her. Why was that? Why would she be concerned about
Dolan?

"You look jittery. Not usual for you. If I
had to guess, I'd say something's bothering you."

Esmerelda put her hands out in front of her,
"Don't try to use any psychic stuff on me, Dolan."

"I'm not. You know my rules on that."

She stepped back. Dolan walked around her
booth table and sat in the customer's chair.

"I came over because I wanted to talk to you
about a customer you had today. I would've come sooner, but I had
to get rid of all the naggers."

"Naggers? Is that what you call the public?"
Esmerelda didn't sit. She leaned back against a steel post
bordering her booth.

"No, not the public in general. I had to
give a name to the stragglers. They remind me of the
paparazzi."

"Who can resist you," she said, without
trying to sound too sarcastic.

"Esmerelda, you've been with the fair for a
long time. We've known each other for over twenty years. Why do I
hear such bitterness in your voice?"

Esmerelda looked away. Dolan was right. Why
was she feeling disrupted? Maybe because she knew Sarah was so
young and she was playing in a game unaware of its rules. She
should have stopped Sarah earlier. She should have taken her by the
arm and told her exactly how much danger she was in. She should
have told her to stop listening to her messages in her
notebook.

"I'm sorry, Dolan. You're right. It's been a
long day."

"Do you remember the young girl with the
missing hair? Quite a distinguishing feature."

"I recall her. Why do you ask?" She had no
idea why Dolan would be interested in Sarah.

"I bumped into her after she left your
booth."

Esmerelda could feel his gaze on her. Did
Dolan recognize Sarah for what she is?

"I saw that. If you're looking to apologize
to her, it's too late. I don't keep personal records of the people
I do readings for. But you already know this. Besides, I didn't
even get the chance to do a reading for her." Esmerelda turned and
stared right at Dolan. "Is there something you're not telling
me?"

"Look, Esmerelda. I'm not sure what it is
myself. I felt some kind of a spark with that girl. She had a
message in her notebook. I have no idea what it means, but it's
quite unsettling."

Dolan lowered his head. Esmerelda waited for
him to continue.

In the seconds of silence she heard someone
walking nearby. She edged out of her booth and looked down the
aisle just in time to see a suit jacket flutter past a booth about
six down from hers. A black jacket. The same one worn by Alex,
Dolan's assistant earlier today. Was the assistant listening in or
coincidentally walking by? She lifted her nose and took in a deep
breath to see if she could detect his cologne.

"Did you hear that?" she asked.

"Hear what?"

Esmerelda brushed it off with a motion of
her hand and gestured for Dolan to continue. "You said there was
something else?"

"Yes."

He got up from the chair and looked down at
Esmerelda. She was almost two feet shorter than him.

"She had a notebook with her. When she fell
to the floor it popped open. I went to help her up but she fell
into a trance and wrote something down. Then she snapped out of
it."

Esmerelda waited for Dolan to go on. In the
darkened pavilion she hadn't noticed how anxious he looked. This
was more serious than she thought.

"I saw my name in her notebook. She circled
it numerous times before standing up. There were two words beside
that."

"Having your name in her notebook shouldn't
be a mystery. You're the one that makes this Psychic Fair popular.
Everyone comes to see you. After all the help you've given the
police with missing person cases, you're a celebrity."

Dolan was shaking his head as if he was
frustrated. "By my name it said, '
save yourself
'."

Esmerelda sat down. "Sarah is an Automatic
Writer. The problem with her is she is changing the future. She's
getting precognitions about people in need of help and then
attempting to help them."

"How do you know all this? You read that
much?"

"No, I recognized her from the news. She
saved a woman from drowning under the St. Elizabeth Bridge; the
Anchorwoman who crashed over the edge when that garbage truck lost
its wheel."