Premonition

A man has a premonition. He sees his own death as he saves someone else. Now he has to decide whose life is more important.

Premonition

by T S Astley


What would you do if you saw your own death? Would you learn to accept your fate? Or would you use your vision to change it? Well, that’s what happened to me. I woke that night in a cold sweat. The kind that makes your hairs stand, your throat dry, and your dreams feel like reality. Except this wasn’t a dream. It was a premonition.

I didn’t just see my death; I felt it. I felt the impact of the electric blue Ford Focus, as it ploughed into my lower back. The separation of the vertebrae from my spine, the crack of every rib, the aorta connected to my thirty-four-year-old heart, tearing as I laid on the cold, wet tarmac. I felt my hearts final beat. I didn’t just feel the pain and suffering; I felt the horror, the fear, and in such feelings, I gained an understanding for something that people will only ever experience once. I felt what it was like to die.


This vision would stay with me as a vivid memory. One that would pop up out of nowhere simply because it wanted to be remembered. The smell of rain on concrete, sights, and sounds of cars and traffic, young children laughing, old men crying, everything and anything would force me to remember my own death. I remembered the choice I made when I ran into the road. How I wouldn’t let a little nine-year-old girl die. If I didn’t act, someone’s sweet, innocent child would be taken from them. I ran through my two decisions. I do nothing, she dies, and I have to live the rest of my life knowing that I had the ability to save her from that speeding, electric blue Ford Focus. Or do I make the decision to jump in front of the car, sacrificing myself to push her from its deadly path? I know I made the right choice. I felt it, but it didn’t stop the difficulty of knowing the date, time, place and even how I was going to die. I had this forewarning at twenty-one years old. I had thirteen years to decide if I would make the right choice again, or if life’s events would get in the way and give me “reason” to change my mind. My name’s James Newfield, and these are the events that led to my death!

Just another Tuesday morning, but this time I woke up three minutes before my alarm was set to wake up the household, cat included. I was alert, aware, wide awake, last night’s experience still fresh in my mind. What could I do? So, I got ready for another day’s work. Work was work. S**t as always. Every day, the same, but today was Tuesday. Tuesday is counseling day. I drop in the same time, same place as always, Rosemount Approach just off Town Street, 15 minutes outside the city center. Dr. Malik welcomes me into her office and our session begins. Telling her about last night’s “vision” is a good release, even though she downgraded my premonition to a vivid, possible lucid dream, still good to tell someone. We laughed it off and chalked it up as an overactive imagination. It’s not the first time my mind ran away with an idea and turned it into a crazy story. Just ask my childhood neighbors about the time I saw Mr. Johnston hitting his son in the garden with the shovel. But that was just my intense “creativity” turning nothing into something. Dr. Malik gives me a prescription for some drugs to treat my anxiety. I leave Dr. Malik’s, edging down the wet steps outside her building trying not to slip. I walk down to the main road and there I hear a sound that I instantly recognize. My head snaps towards a screeching Blue Ford Focus. Then it happens again, even more lifelike than the first time. Another premonition.

Nine years old. That’s all she is. I don’t know her name, but she looked like an angel. Light blue, flowing dress. Blonde hair in a single braid. She looked beautiful. Looked! Now her enormous green, anime eyes are leaking tears. I can see she’s screaming, even though I can’t hear her. I realize I can’t hear anything but I can see everything. I’m not visioning this moment from my eyes, but my perspective. I’m seeing it from all angles. It’s like a movie I’ve seen before, but this time I’m not just re-watching it; I’m there on the set, behind the scenes. I can actually feel the situation and grasp a sense of what it’s like to die once more. This time, I’m not afraid. How can I be scared when I feel nothing but love? I see everyone panicking, distressed and distraught. I know I’ve just been killed, but I can’t comprehend the idea of worrying when I feel this way. I wish I could tell this little girl that everything will be alright. She’ll have a life to live and I’ll make sure of it. I wish I could make a promise to her that I’ll be here when the time is right to do it all again. I’ll just have to make a promise to myself. I start to fade out. I’m back on the street, staring at a Blue Ford Focus that’s just skidded 10 meters in the pouring rain. Nothing comes of it; just a careless driver that lost control and got lucky a nine-year-old girl with perfect blonde hair wasn’t in the way. I see huge, gorgeous, green anime eyes staring into mine. She waves her hand in front of my face. Finally, reality snaps into focus and I look at her in awe. The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Her twenty-one years on this earth have been more than kind. She clearly won the gene pool lottery. She asks me if I’m alright. She says I look like I’ve just seen a ghost. I tell her there’s a difference between a ghost and an angel.

Angel, or Sarah when I’m around her parents, and I spend as much time together as possible. I feel like I’ve won. Won at life. She makes me want to live. When I’m around her I cherish life. Cherish her thoughts, ideas, views, the way she looks at the world, the way she looks at me, and the way she makes me look at her. We go for lunch in the town, a nice little restaurant hidden away from the big commercial ones that pollute the sky with light shows when day turns to night. Hand in hand we walk down Commer Street, opposite Rosemount Approach where I can see Dr. Malik’s office. Then I realize that I haven’t seen Dr. Malik in Six months. I don’t have to because Sarah is with me every step of the way, listening to and helping me through my complications. There is one thing I haven’t told Sarah though. And that’s the intuitions I’d had. No need to tell her. Different time, besides I haven’t had one for months. It’s a beautiful day so we decide to cut through a park. It’s filled with excitement and joy. Kids and parents alike. I see a little girl slip and graze her knee. The tears instantly stream and in that moment, I see her run towards her father who picks her up to comfort her. Telling her everything will be alright. My hands begin to tremble, legs feel like I’m trying to leave the gym after doing my personal best on squats. My throat starts watering as my sight is replaced with another premonition!

The young girl screams in teary panic. Golden blonde hair flutters across her petrified face. Again, I can’t hear anything, but I can see and feel it. A short, stocky man is sprinting towards her as fast as his legs can motor. He drops to one knee, grabs ahold of her, one arm around her back and the other clutches her head and tucks it into his shoulder tightly. I see his lips hushing her. Time slows down as I witness everything around me simultaneously. A slim woman, hands over her mouth in sheer terror, frantically runs towards the little girl and the man grasping her. The driver of the blue Ford Focus looks like he’s trying to chew his hand off as he frantically bites his nails. Individuals have their smartphones out recording everything. Finally, the slim, screaming woman reaches the child and father. She embraces them both as relief pours out as tears in her eyes. The little angel is reunited with her mother and father. That’s all I needed to see. That’s all I needed to see to cement my decision. I will save this little angel and her family when the time comes.

I decided to tell Sarah about my premonitions. Just like I knew, she didn’t mock or tease me. She saw the romantic side of it, believing it was just a dream of course. Think she would have taken it differently if she knew it was true. On that note, I don’t even know if it’s true. She isn’t trying to catch me out or trip me up, as much as she’s just wanting to know everything about the story when she asks me how I know the man and woman hugging the girl are her parents if I couldn’t hear them. The way they had ahold of that little girl, is the exact same way I’d hold her if she were mine.

Me and Sarah have been seeing each other for nine months now. It’s weird because I loved her the moment I saw her. The feeling was unmistakable. You read the books and watch the movies, but this was real, this hit me like a freight train, or a bus, or a… blue Ford Focus. The feeling, the attraction, the force was beyond strong when I saw this woman. Nine months later and somehow, it’s only become stronger, deeper, more real. We like to go on these amazing adventure walks. Through woodlands, up peaks and down streams. The peace and quiet are blissful until Sarah stresses out when she can’t read the map. I think it’s hilarious as my view is, it’s not where we’re going that’s important, just who we’re going there with. Wherever “there” may be, I’ll never be able to tell her enough how overjoyed I am that it’s with her. I tell her all the time, I just hope she believes it.

On our way, back to the pub carpark where we’re parked, we see kids playing on the swings in the beer garden. A boy sat atop a huge slide crippled with the fear of the only two decisions he has; sliding down or climbing down. Two decisions are all anybody has. Left or right, up or down, in or out, right or wrong… Life or death! I get a sharp judder down my spine as the hairs on my arms reach for the sky. They stretch as if it’s 6am and they’ve just woken up. Not a premonition, not now. I try to hold on to myself, focus. Keep myself in this version of reality. I hear a little girl shouting “I hate you”. I can’t help but look. A young girl with perfect blonde hair screams at her father over and over. The crushing words “I hate you”. It’s too late. I’m no longer in my body. I’m transported to another place, another time. Another premonition.

I see a teenage girl. Short blonde spikey hair with blue dyed tips. She’s twelve years old. She’s arguing with someone. Screaming at him relentlessly. This time, this place feels different. I shouldn’t be here. This isn’t my time, it’s beyond my time. She screams at the man “I hate you, I hate you” I get a view of the man’s face. The man who gripped the little girl tightly. Her father. Which means this twelve-year-old is the beautiful, blonde haired girl from the incident. He’s shouting back, unaffected by her harsh words. He tells her there was nothing he could’ve done. His harsh words ring a horrendous truth that shakes her heart so much it breaks all over again when he tells her it was her own damn fault. “If you hadn’t had ran into the road it would never have happened.” She grabs her backpack, sobbing as she storms off slamming the door behind her leaving an emptiness in her wake.

I haven’t seen Dr. Malik in so long, which can only be a good thing. I stopped using the tablets for my anxiety months ago. It still comes from time to time. A knot in the stomach so tight it makes you want to throw up. Causes your whole body to tremble with the fear of being afraid. You know it’s stupid and that everything will be alright, but you can’t control it. I tell myself to get a grip but only one voice can calm my stresses and concerns. Sarah’s. She soothes me, relaxes, and calms me. It’s not that she knows the right words to say. Anything she says works. It’s just hearing her voice, reading her messages, knowing she is enthusiastically trying her best to help me. She must grow tired of it. I bore myself with this pointless sense of worrying. Sarah’s always telling me how amazing she thinks I am. I honestly have no idea what it is she sees in me. But I know that that’s the man I want to try and be. I want to feel like the man she deserves. I set-up a couple party balloons and tie a banner across the top of the patio doors in the kitchen that says “Love You”. She comes home and of course, she’s over the moon. She asks why is it that I am making a celebration for her when we’re supposed to be celebrating my year today of been off Dr. Malik’s drugs. Without her, there’d be no me. Then it starts. Not the anxiety, but a different feeling. Palms are sweating, throat is watering like I’m about to vomit any second. Then a sudden cold rush hits my whole body. Drugs. Drugs! “Hey, you stupid b***h! Do you want these drugs or not?” I’m in an abandoned warehouse. I see the little angel again. She is not the scared, innocent little girl from the side of the road anymore. She’s strung out. A drug dealer is selling her some drugs. She tries to pay him with change. The only way she could have all that change is by begging on the streets all day. Her hair is purple, furious spots around her mouth and on her drawn out cheeks. She’s the skeleton of a once beautiful, innocent little angel who was in the wrong place at the wrong time. This isn’t the way her life was supposed to turn out. I’m powerless. I’m nothing but a visitor. I want to tell her it’s not her fault. I died so she could have a life worth living. Instead, she’s throwing it all away. Is saving her the right choice? But how can I let a six-year-old girl get mowed down and be killed? It would be tragic but no one would know I knew what was going to happen. No one apart from me. Is that something I could live with? I have Sarah now and everything’s going great. I’m going to ask her to marry me. And I want to have kids of my own someday. The little angel’s family will be torn to pieces, but she’s not my child. One day I want to have my own little angel and there’s absolutely no way she’d be running in the middle of the road without me. Is this a choice I can really make? Am I actually considering letting this little girl die? Life is nothing but a trail of decisions. Each leading to the next. No one said anything about making decisions in death.

Twenty-Five years old and I’m already getting married. How is this even possible? I never thought I’d be the one standing at the front. With that been said, the moment I laid eyes upon Sarah I knew I’d be standing by her side for the rest of my life. Why not spend the rest of my life standing beside her wearing a ring as well? The reception is perfect. The wedding wasn’t major because money’s tight, but it ticked all the boxes. An amazing day that brought in an amazing night. That night I carried Sarah across the threshold and we made love. Tonight, was different to the other times. Not because we were married, but because that night Ava was conceived. My new wife had drunk just enough to want to keep me awake all night. She wanted me and I wanted her. Somewhere around three in the morning, we were chatting, pillow talk, and she looked at me over her shoulder and said: “I’m all yours”. That’s when it happened again. The dry eyes that became sorer the quicker I blinked. The sweat that instantaneously covered my whole body making it look like I’ve just risen from a swimming pool. My body vibrated and my ears rang. Another premonition.

I see the not so little girl, maybe 15 years old, hair looks like it’s been hacked off with a knife. Can’t tell the colour due to how filthy it is. She’s hanging into a car, leaning through the window. A horrible, overweight, sweaty man in a suit and tie smiles at her. She’s petrified. The words still ringing in my ear “I’m all yours”. A tear escapes her eye down onto her cheek as she mouths the same words and slowly enters the car.

I remember thinking it’s too soon. There are 7 weeks to go, at least. I sprint down the hospital hallways. Finally, I make it to Sarah. The babies arrived but she’s been taken away already. I’m scared, nervous, the knots in my stomach has returned. I haven’t felt anxiety like this in years. I’m petrified. Eventually, we get to see Ava. It’s bittersweet because I’m looking at this beautiful tiny baby, my daughter, for the first time. But at the same time, she’s hooked up to every machine in the room. Hundreds of thousands of pounds worth of machines and equipment keeping my daughter alive. I look at her and tell her I’ll never leave her. Never! It’s a long battle but thanks to the doctors and nurses dedicating countless hours of hard work and patience, we finally got to take little Ava home. I said I would save the little girl from my premonitions because she doesn’t deserve that cruel kind of fate at such a young age. Her parents don’t deserve the torture of losing a child. How can anyone live with that? But now I have a daughter and a family of my own. How can I let my daughter grow up without me? Leave Sarah to cope on her own? What kind of a man, kind of a father would I be?

The years fly by. Ava’s first birthday, second birthday, third. She grows faster than imaginable. Stunning natural brown mousy hair. Fourth birthday, fifth, sixth. She’s incredible. And that’s not just from a father’s eyes. She’s top of her class already. Just the right amount of cheekiness that you can’t even be mad at her for. After all, she is a carbon copy of her mother. No premonitions for years. Maybe it’s because I don’t need anymore. I’ve seen all I had to see. I was adamant I would save this little girl. Save her parents the heartache of losing a child. But my life has changed. It’s not my life to give anymore. My life belongs to my family. To my daughter. I made her a promise when she was born that I’d never leave her. And nothing or no one can stop me from keeping that promise. Three years left. Three years until the day I have to accept that I’m going to let a beautiful, innocent, little girl die. I don’t know how I’ll live with myself after, but it’s the only choice I can make. For my family.

One day Sarah and I have a huge argument. So stupid, something about whose turn it is to do the washing up. The tiniest things make for the worst arguments. When we saw Ava run to her room crying is when we realized we’d never let something this small get to us again. Sarah was tired of looking after Ava all day. I was tired due to a long day at work. We both had our excuses and reasons. Truth is, it’s no one’s fault. Disagreements will always happen, we just have to learn to deal and accept them better. The next day, Ava came home from school and she had two pebble stones. In them, she had scribed the words “It’s not your fault” on to both of them and then gave them to me and her mother. This girl can’t be mine, she’s too clever. We all smile at each other and Sarah even lets out a tear. I will keep this pebble on me at all times. I love my family.

Three years pass. It’s the night before Ava’s birthday. Ava’s asleep in her room while me and Sarah share a bottle of wine before we go to bed. I’m not myself. Sarah notices this but I tell her I’m fine. Just shocked at how quick Ava’s growing up. Sarah does what Sarah does best. She calms me down. Tells me I have nothing to worry about. But I have more to worry about than she can possibly imagine. She tells me I need to go to the shops to pick up some balloons for Ava’s birthday party. Disney princess has been hired for the party. Food is ordered and will arrive first thing. We’ve borrowed extra chairs from the neighbors. But we forgot the bloody balloons. I tell her it’s no problem. I’ll go before all the kids arrive. That night I wake up in my sleep. Drag my feet to the bathroom. I flush the toilet and wash my hands. The sounds of the flush and the running tap water carries my thoughts and consciousness with it. I fade out and I’m in a public restroom. I thought the premonitions were over. I thought I’d seen everything I had to see to make my choice. I guess there’s still more for me to see. It stinks. Graffiti on the walls, broken mirrors, and cubicle doors hanging off is just the beginning of the things wrong with this place. But there she is. The little girl, no older than seventeen, is strung out on the floor. Needle still in her arm. Then I realise she’s not just strung out. She’s dead!

Ava’s birthday. She wakes up, jumps out of bed and runs around like a complete looney. She’s beyond ecstatic. There’s no way I’m leaving this girl without me. I’ve seen in my premonitions what happens to a girl when she lives without her father. Ava’s favorite Disney princess arrives early. Elsa from Frozen. She’s a great entertainer because she’s not fussed about the misunderstanding of what time Ava’s party began. She stays in character the whole time. Food arrives and with the help of Elsa we set it all out in the garden. Food area, play area, a little Elsa meet and great. A makeup artist to turn all the kids into little Elsa’s. Sarah’s brother is there with his son. Family and friends. This is going to be a good day. I can’t let what I know spoil any of this. After all, only I know what I’m allowing to happen. No one here will know until they turn on the news later tonight, and even then, it’s impossible for them to know I could have prevented it. The kids start arriving and still I haven’t got the balloons. I tuck my feet into my shoes and go to Supermarket Direct. I cross the road that’ll be the little girls resting place. When in the supermarket, I take my time but know that no matter how long I take, on my way back will be the exact moment the little girl runs into the road. I purchase the balloons and head back. This is the right choice. For my daughter. She needs me. What type of father lets his daughter out of his sight long enough for something like this to happen anyway? I wouldn’t allow this to happen to Ava. I approach the road. Clench my fists. Tell myself over and over, not to react. I stand there and wait. I wait and nothing. This isn’t right. This isn’t what I saw. I wait at the end of the road for ten, twenty, thirty minutes. No little girl. Maybe they were dreams all along just like Sarah and Dr. Malik told me all those years ago. An overactive imagination. I close my eyes. Take a deep breath. My eyes open and I’m in my back garden. Watching Sarah laugh as she struggles to look after all these kids. Food everywhere. Disney’s Princess Elsa showing Ava the time of her life as they get a makeover and turn Ava into a mini Elsa. A blonde wig with a single braid. A blue flowing dress. She’s a little princess. She looks at me saying “Daddy, daddy look. I love you daddy”. I look into her huge, gorgeous, anime green eyes. Then everything freezes like I’m stuck inside a photograph. The moment fades away and suddenly I’m at the roadside. Then I see her. The little, blonde hair, green eyed girl. She’s running towards the road shouting “Daddy, daddy Look. I love you daddy” It’s Ava. This whole time the little girl is Ava. I freeze. My spine stiffens with fear. How is this possible? The choices have changed but the decision’s the same. Live or die. Save Ava or not. If I save her, she’ll blame herself, run away from home. Turn to drugs and eventually die from an overdose before she even turns eighteen. But how the hell can I not save my own daughter? She runs towards me, I sprint to her. We’re both on the road. Time seems to stand still. I see her true beauty. How did I let this happen? I pull the pebble out of my pocket, grab her, place it into her hands and grip her as tightly as possible. I turn my back to the speeding blue Ford Focus. The impact sends me sliding across the tarmac. Ava wrapped in my arms. We come to a standstill, she gets up screaming. Her screams tell me I did enough. She’s alive. I turn as I start to fade. Her mother and the man who I now know is Sarah’s brother, Ava’s uncle, run towards her and grip her tightly. I fade and fade. I look at Ava. She opens her palm and gazes at the pebble that reads “It’s not your fault”. I just hope I did enough to stop her from blaming herself. I hope I did enough. I hope I…

THE END