kitchen, oblivious to the day's passing, I tried to assemble the shattered images of the morning into some semblance of rational thought. Did I really have a vision of a woman's death? Did it really happen? I wasn't sure if I'd seen anything, or if my brain had finally blown a fuse. If it was a vision, this was the third time. I couldn't rule out the possibility of some kind of psychotic break.
I was jumpy and claustrophobic in the house. My cell phone rang persistently, but I didn't want to talk to anyone. Finally, I turned it off.
By sunset, I couldn't stand it any longer. I had to know. I bundled up and headed out to the yard to retrace my steps.
The intersection was empty. No broken glass, no blood, no sign of an accident or police cars. The remnants of my pumpkin pies, however, had been swept into the gutter. So I had been here, but it appeared nothing tragic had happened.
I'm having a breakdown . The thought was almost a relief.
I drew a breath of the cold night air and began to shiver un-controllably. I didn't want to be alone. Swallowing my rising panic, I headed toward downtown.
Several restaurants were open. I looked through a window at the happy faces and froze. A hazy mist surrounded every face. Maybe the window was fogged. I rubbed my eyes and got closer. No, the plates and tables were in focus. Only the diners' heads and shoulders shimmered with colored luminous light.
Laughter bubbled out of me in a hysterical stream. I turned in a slow circle on the sidewalk, giggling. The few approaching pedestrians parted, giving me a wide berth.
"Auras?" I clamped both hands over my mouth and stared at each one as they passed. Yep, they were all lit. Why would I suddenly see auras?
I quit laughing.
One of my neighbors back home had suffered horrible migraines before being diagnosed with a brain tumor. In the throes of an attack, she told me, she saw flickering lights which eventually obliterated her field of vision.
I looked at the streetlights around me. Distinct. No flickering. I had never had a migraine and this didn't feel like the beginning of one. Sinking onto a bench, I put my hands in my pockets, ordering my thoughts. Auras are supposedly different colors depending on the person's physical, emotional or mental state. I would stay calm and study people, test the theory.
Two little girls were surrounded by white auras, while their mother's flared pink. Other people were less distinct, swirling mists of blue or violet.
I needed more people, so I stood—much calmer now—and began to walk. In the next restaurant, a man in a suit had a murky brown aura, so thick it was almost a scent, betraying his businesslike exterior. He reminded me of a sleek Doberman plotting to sample the hand feeding it, as he eyed the young waitress taking his order.
Despite his menace I chuckled. If only I'd had this power earlier in life. Wonder what my ex's aura looks like. Woof, woof. Or rather, wolf, wolf .
I thought about the golden halo often painted around the head of Jesus in pictures. Imagine the changes on Earth if people could see the auras of their leaders and select them based on what the auras revealed.
Without realizing it, my random aura-watching had brought me to the women's shelter, my original destination. The dining room light seemed a friendly beacon in a hostile world. I crossed the street to the shelter.
I immediately had second thoughts. Nicholas stood in front of the building in agitated conversation with Kamaria. He was the last person I wanted to see, especially since witnessing his embarrassing scene with Lilith at the bookstore.
I tried to double back, but they'd seen me.
Kamaria ran up and wrapped her arms around me. I immediately burst into tears.
"There, there, it's okay," she murmured into my hair. She held me and rubbed my back, saying nothing more until I wound down to an occasional wet hiccup.
Nicholas stood nearby, arms crossed in front of his chest. "We've been looking for you," he said,
I was jumpy and claustrophobic in the house. My cell phone rang persistently, but I didn't want to talk to anyone. Finally, I turned it off.
By sunset, I couldn't stand it any longer. I had to know. I bundled up and headed out to the yard to retrace my steps.
The intersection was empty. No broken glass, no blood, no sign of an accident or police cars. The remnants of my pumpkin pies, however, had been swept into the gutter. So I had been here, but it appeared nothing tragic had happened.
I'm having a breakdown . The thought was almost a relief.
I drew a breath of the cold night air and began to shiver un-controllably. I didn't want to be alone. Swallowing my rising panic, I headed toward downtown.
Several restaurants were open. I looked through a window at the happy faces and froze. A hazy mist surrounded every face. Maybe the window was fogged. I rubbed my eyes and got closer. No, the plates and tables were in focus. Only the diners' heads and shoulders shimmered with colored luminous light.
Laughter bubbled out of me in a hysterical stream. I turned in a slow circle on the sidewalk, giggling. The few approaching pedestrians parted, giving me a wide berth.
"Auras?" I clamped both hands over my mouth and stared at each one as they passed. Yep, they were all lit. Why would I suddenly see auras?
I quit laughing.
One of my neighbors back home had suffered horrible migraines before being diagnosed with a brain tumor. In the throes of an attack, she told me, she saw flickering lights which eventually obliterated her field of vision.
I looked at the streetlights around me. Distinct. No flickering. I had never had a migraine and this didn't feel like the beginning of one. Sinking onto a bench, I put my hands in my pockets, ordering my thoughts. Auras are supposedly different colors depending on the person's physical, emotional or mental state. I would stay calm and study people, test the theory.
Two little girls were surrounded by white auras, while their mother's flared pink. Other people were less distinct, swirling mists of blue or violet.
I needed more people, so I stood—much calmer now—and began to walk. In the next restaurant, a man in a suit had a murky brown aura, so thick it was almost a scent, betraying his businesslike exterior. He reminded me of a sleek Doberman plotting to sample the hand feeding it, as he eyed the young waitress taking his order.
Despite his menace I chuckled. If only I'd had this power earlier in life. Wonder what my ex's aura looks like. Woof, woof. Or rather, wolf, wolf .
I thought about the golden halo often painted around the head of Jesus in pictures. Imagine the changes on Earth if people could see the auras of their leaders and select them based on what the auras revealed.
Without realizing it, my random aura-watching had brought me to the women's shelter, my original destination. The dining room light seemed a friendly beacon in a hostile world. I crossed the street to the shelter.
I immediately had second thoughts. Nicholas stood in front of the building in agitated conversation with Kamaria. He was the last person I wanted to see, especially since witnessing his embarrassing scene with Lilith at the bookstore.
I tried to double back, but they'd seen me.
Kamaria ran up and wrapped her arms around me. I immediately burst into tears.
"There, there, it's okay," she murmured into my hair. She held me and rubbed my back, saying nothing more until I wound down to an occasional wet hiccup.
Nicholas stood nearby, arms crossed in front of his chest. "We've been looking for you," he said,
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