Foretold: 14 Tales of Prophecy and Prediction

  It was never a good morning in Misery. Just morning. Then afternoon. Then evening. Nothing was good. Or bad, really. So Alek felt rather guilty about questioning the absolute blandness of it all. Like the colors, the actions they all took here seemed so repetitive. It worried him sometimes, though he’d never had the guts to voice his concerns to anyone but Sara—who was currently waiting for him near the town center.

  The town’s center was marked by a massive, ornate fountain. At its peak stood a large crow. Its shiny glass eyes peered down at passersby. Alek didn’t much care for it, for reasons he couldn’t quite explain. The statue unsettled him, tying tight knots in his stomach whenever he looked at it. But he couldn’t stand to not look at it, either.

  “You’re late.” Sara cocked her head to the side in a way that reminded Alek of someone’s mother, rather than their best friend. But then, Sara had been like that since the day they’d met—judgmental and protective of him in only the best manner.

  Alek half shrugged. “I was busy.”

  “You were delaying the inevitable.” She cast him a concerned glance, one that said that she hadn’t forgotten about their conversation the night before. “Still nervous?”

  Alek swallowed hard. Nervous? He was actually pretty terrified. So much so that he hadn’t slept a wink last night, and every moment this morning had been consumed by his absolute fear of what was to come today. Not that he should be worried or anything. He didn’t know of one person in the town of Misery who’d received a Gift they hadn’t liked. Of course, his subconscious continued to insist on reminding him, there was always the first time. What if that first time belonged to him? “Yeah. Kinda.”

  “You are the only person I know who gets nervous over receiving their Gift.” Sara frowned. It wasn’t that she was upset or anything. She was merely concerned for him. Still … Alek could have done with a reassuring smile from her this morning. “It’s not like you didn’t receive a Gift last year, y’know. Or the year before. And have any of them been bad? No. So what are you worried about, exactly?”

  Sara’s irritation merely framed the obvious in gilded, extravagant swirls. Alek’s nervousness over something so simple, something so very ordinary, made her nervous too. And that was precisely why Alek hadn’t told anyone else in town about the way his stomach clenched every time he thought about receiving his upcoming Gift. It was better, in a place like Misery, to just go with the flow, and not upset anyone with his strange reluctance. He couldn’t explain why, exactly. It was just … better this way.

  Alek shrugged, trying like hell to keep his attention off the stone crow perched atop the elaborate fountain, despite the fact that its glass eyes were sparkling brightly in the sun, begging to be examined closer. “Two years ago, my Gift was you. Last year, my Gift was my own room at the boarding-house. What if this year doesn’t compare?”

  She examined his face carefully, narrowing her eyes just a bit in suspicion. When she spoke, her voice had fallen into mere whispers. “That’s not really it, is it, Alek? You’re afraid of something. I know you. I can tell. What are you afraid of?”

  It amazed him at times how well Sara knew him, and how she could predict so easily when things weren’t sitting so great inside his mind.

  When it came to predictions, to knowing things that were unknowable, the citizens of Misery turned to a woman by the name of Jordan. Jordan was psychic, or sensitive, or just incredibly talented when it came to understanding the annual blessings that were bestowed upon the people here. No one knew where the Gifts came from or who sent them. Like anything else in Misery, people simply accepted the Gifts as the norm, refusing to make waves by questioning the Gifts’ origins.

  Two years ago, Jordan had told him that a new friend was coming to Misery, and that she and Alek would become very close in a relatively short period of time. Maybe it had been Alek’s loneliness talking, but he’d doubted at the time that his Gift of friendship would ever come true. The very next day, Sara had found him at the town center, not so far from the spot they were standing at now. He’d vowed that day that he’d never doubt Jordan or her abilities ever again. And yet here he was, his stomach all tied in knots, his palms slick with anxious sweat.

  “Fine. Don’t tell me.” Sara folded her arms in front of her and turned, leading Alek down the sidewalk in the direction of Jordan’s house. As they came to a stop at the corner across from Vinnie’s Sales and Sundries, she continued her thought. “But I’ll bet you just about anything that you’re wrong. It’s your Gift, Alek. How can that be anything to worry about?”

  “Morning, you two. Causing trouble early today, are you?” Virginia called to them from where she was kneeling in her flower beds. Beside her was a pile of weeds, as gray and dull as the flowers themselves, but somehow more lifeless. She wore a big floppy hat to block out the sun’s rays, and had to hold up the brim just to meet Alek’s and Sara’s eyes.

  Sara put on a pleasant demeanor. “No, ma’am. Just walking over so Alek can receive his Gift.”

  “Oh, has it been so long already? I swear, after so much time here, every year seems to blend into the next.” Virginia stood and brushed dirt from her knees before approaching the white picket fence between her and the sidewalk they were standing on. “Are you looking forward to your Gift, Alek?”

  Alek gulped as silently as he could manage, swallowing his hesitancy at receiving something he knew on the surface would be satisfactory. Then he nodded at her. “Every year. When do you receive your next Gift, Virginia?”

  She wiped a bead of sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand as she considered his question, leaving behind a smudge of soil. “Well, let’s see. If you get your Gift today, my next Gift must be in about two months. But, you know, after last year, I don’t really need another Gift.”

  Alek shrugged. “Maybe you’ll get some new flowers to put in your garden.”

  Virginia sighed. “You know what I’d really like? Some color. Maybe some color for my roses. Oh yes, I’d like that very much.”

  The three of them exchanged looks. Looks that spoke volumes.

  Then Virginia stammered, as if she were afraid that someone might overhear them. “Of course, I’m not complaining. I like Misery just the way it is. It’s just that you have such beautiful green eyes, Alek. I wish I could see that in my garden too. Anyway, you two should scoot. Don’t want to be late to receive your Gift.”

  “Yeah.” Alek’s heart felt hollow and heavy. His voice dropped off, into an almost whisper. “I wouldn’t want that.”

  Alek moved down the sidewalk, his steps hesitant. Beside him, in direct contrast, Sara’s stride was confident and sure. Lining the street were large oak trees. A strong wind gusted high above the two friends, blowing several leaves in varying shades of gray from the branches. The leaves danced and fluttered on the wind before settling gently on the grass and in the street. High in the sky, tucked halfway behind a gray cloud, was a hot white sun. The scene should have been serene, should have settled any upset in Alek’s nerves and calmed the churning of his stomach. But it didn’t. The quiet simply added to his stress, though he couldn’t exactly point to what was stressing him out or why.

  At the end of the street stood a large Victorian house, with three floors and a high-peaked round tower that loomed above the surrounding homes. The house was painted a charcoal gray. The front porch was wide and inviting, and in front of the stark white door sat a mat that read “Welcome All.” Under each window was a charming flower box, and planted inside were small blooms that seemed cheerful, despite their lack of color. The shutters were carved with amazing detail—storybook images on each piece—and painted stark black. Alek’s favorite image was carved on the shutters surrounding the window nearest the front door. One side featured a house made of candy, with two children skipping merrily up to the door. The other showed a woman peering out of the home’s window, grinning menacingly. The image had always appealed to Alek, but today it felt sinister. He tore his gaze away from it and
rapped on the front door, ready to receive his Gift. Maybe Sara was right. Maybe he was just being stupid about the whole thing.

  Besides, the last two Gifts he’d received had turned out even better than expected. So what was he so worried about?

  A singsongy voice called from within, “Be right there!”

  Alek’s heart skipped a beat, but he willed it to steady its rhythm, and cast Sara a reassuring glance—not that she was the one who needed any reassuring. He hoped it reassured her, at least. But he was pretty sure she knew he was full of crap. He was scared, and they both knew it. They just didn’t know why.

  The door opened in, and Jordan poked her head out. Her brown eyes were bright and dazzling amidst all the gray. She wore a floral apron around her waist, over her tasteful dress. Her curly hair was held neatly back from her face with a floral scarf. On any normal day, Alek really liked coming to visit Jordan. There was a motherly quality to everything she said, everything she did. It was comforting. It was nice. But today, it wasn’t helping. “Come on in, Alek. Sara, you can wait on the porch swing. I left you some lemonade and cookies to munch on, but this shouldn’t take long.”

  Sara gave Alek’s shoulder a comforting squeeze and turned on her heel toward the porch swing. He watched the bounce in her step for a moment before turning back to Jordan. She held the door open for him and he stepped inside. The table just inside the front door held its usual platter of fresh-baked cookies. As he grabbed a gooey snickerdoodle, Jordan closed the front door behind them and said, “Are you excited about your Gift, Alek?”

  He really wished people would stop asking him that. He bit into the cookie, which wasn’t as sweet as he’d wanted it to be. The cookie he’d had last year had definitely been sweeter. But then, last year he hadn’t been nervous at all. He chewed and swallowed, and the bite went down hard. Suddenly, he wished he had some lemonade to wash it down with. “To be honest … not really. I’ve felt a bit … off all day. Is that weird?”

  “Hmmm.” That’s all she said. Just a thoughtful noise. Not even a word, really. It did little to settle Alek’s nerves. She tilted her head, looking him over for a moment, before gesturing to the parlor door behind him.

  Alek nodded and sat his unfinished cookie on the table before turning to the parlor. The door to the parlor wasn’t really a door at all, but an archway. Grand black velvet drapes held back by large silver tassels separated the space from the foyer. As he moved inside, a medley of herby smells wafted over his senses. He couldn’t identify which herbs had blended together to create the aroma, but he rather liked the way the spicy-sweet scent tickled his nose.

  At the center of the parlor was a small round table, also draped in velvet, and sitting to either side of it were two small stools that reminded Alek of mushrooms. On the rounded walls hung several picture frames containing photos of people that Alek didn’t recognize. He’d never dared ask who the subjects were. It wasn’t really his business, anyway.

  Jordan plopped down on a mushroom stool and gestured for Alek to do the same. Once he had, she held out her hand and said, “Well, let’s see what we have here. Close your eyes and hold out your dominant hand.”

  He lowered himself onto the stool and slowly held out his right hand. His fingers were trembling slightly, and just as Jordan took his hand in hers, he noticed a small grouping of cookie crumbs on his palm. He thought about mentioning it, but before he could, her fingers had already brushed them away. She squeezed his hand, closed her eyes, and released a cleansing breath.

  That was what she called it. A cleansing breath. As if every problem in the world could be lessened by simply taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly.

  Alek took a breath and blew it out. If nothing else, it didn’t hurt to try.

  The room suddenly seemed very quiet, although it was no more silent than it had been just a moment before. After a few seconds, she frowned, as if he’d done something wrong. “Relax, Alek. You have to relax or I can’t sense what your Gift will be. You’re so tense, I’m not getting it right now. Just breathe, okay?”

  He took a deep breath, and as he released it, he focused on his muscles, relaxing each and every one as well as he was able. Maybe his concerns were baseless. Maybe he was just being stupid, worrying about his Gift. But he’d never know if he didn’t chill out and relax.

  “Ahh. Hmmm.” She opened her eyes then, but averted her gaze from meeting his. She patted him on the hand in a way that was designed to comfort him, an act that sent his heart into a more concerned rhythm. Was something wrong? What was his Gift? Last year, she’d reacted brightly right away. The year before, she’d hugged him. But this year, her eyes were wide with concern and darting all around the room. Maybe his gut had been right after all. Maybe his Gift wasn’t going to be much of a gift after all. Or maybe he wasn’t receiving a Gift at all. It would be a first in Misery, unheard of, but Alek’s imagination was running wild.

  He gathered up what courage he could and asked, “What … what is it?”

  She shook her head, and shrugged, a strange cloud settling over her usually cheerful exterior. “It’s … nothing.”

  Alek blew out a breath, instantly relaxing. Nothing! It was nothing. He couldn’t have felt more relieved. He settled back on the mushroom stool, every bit of tension leaving his body. “Oh, man. That’s great. You have no idea what that means to me, Jordan. I was so worried all morning that it would be something bad.”

  Then Jordan met his eyes at last. She gripped his hand once again, but this time as if to keep him from running away. When she spoke, her voice was tinged with panic. “No, Alek. You’re not understanding me. Your Gift. It’s nothing.”

  “You mean …” His heart beat twice, hard and hollow inside his chest. A sick feeling filled his pores, seeping deep inside of him. “You mean I don’t get a Gift this year?”

  It was ridiculous and horrible and not anything at all that could possibly happen in Misery. So why was it happening to him?

  “That’s not what I’m saying.” She cupped one hand over the top of his and gave it a squeeze, as if trying desperately to comfort him in a situation where no comfort could be found. “Listen. When I tap into a person, I generally receive a vision of what their Gift will be. And this year, yours was … nothing. I saw nothing. It was a cloudy haze. It was … nothing. For your Gift, you are receiving nothingness. Nonexistence.”

  The last word she spoke sat in his chest like a hot stone. “Nonexistence? You mean … I’m going to die?”

  Everything in the room suddenly seemed smaller. The table, the mushroom stools, the picture frames, the walls. As well as every molecule of air that was available to breathe.

  “No,” she said, after a too-long pause. “You won’t die. You’re just not going to be anymore. By the end of this day, you’re no longer going to exist.”

  Alek’s heart was pounding in his ears. His breaths came sharp and quick as the panic took hold of him, and it felt very much like something had gripped his lungs and was squeezing them as tightly as it could manage. He shook his head, giving himself over to denial, and met Jordan’s eyes. He wanted to see even a hint of a smile in them, like this was all just some sick, cruel joke. But all he found was the truth. He was going to blink out of existence by the day’s end.

  Tears welled up in Alek’s eyes against his will. This couldn’t be it, couldn’t be the end of him. He was just a kid, just a teenager. He hadn’t even kissed a girl yet. When he spoke, his voice shook slightly. “Please, Jordan. You have to help me.”

  She grew very quiet, brushing a few tears from the tip of her nose and her cheeks. He’d fully expected her to shake her head, to tell him that there was absolutely nothing that they could do to preserve his future. But she didn’t. After a moment, she released his hand and sat back in her chair, wrapping her arms around her waist, darting her eyes about the room, as if a thought had popped into her head. One that had deeply disturbed her.

  Alek sat forward, his eyes locked on her grief-stric
ken face. “What is it, Jordan? What can I do? There has to be something! And if you know and you don’t tell me—”

  “There is something.” She met his eyes, and then blinked, as if she were shaking off a bad dream. “Maybe. But I can’t help you with it. And it might not even work. It probably won’t work at all.”

  “But it might.” He wasn’t feeling a burst of optimism, but he did know that if they, if he, did nothing to prevent himself from dying, blinking out of existence, whatever you wanted to call it, then that was exactly what was going to happen. “Please?”

  She stood, arms still wrapped around her waist, and began pacing the small room slowly. “Have you ever heard of a man by the name of Cameron Boswell, Alek? Probably not. He was here a bit before your time.”

  But Alek did remember him. Not from memory, but from whispers around town. People said he was a troublemaker. People said that Misery was better off without him here. But people said little else about him.

  She didn’t wait for an answer. She merely paused for a moment and became lost in thought again, leaving her parlor, Alek, and the entire town of Misery behind for the time being. In her eyes, Alek could tell that she was someplace else. Someplace better. Then worse. A brief almost-smile touched her lips before crumbling away like ashes in the wind. Whatever she had been thinking about had made her happy—incredibly happy—but whatever that was was gone now, and all that was left were shadows. “He was a kind man. Outgoing. Generous. But not well liked around town. Maybe it was because he was different from everyone else. Not in any way that you could see just by looking at him. But Cameron … Cameron was different.”

  Her almost-smile returned long enough to lightly brush the edges of her lips before fluttering away again. After all, there were no smiles in Misery. “On his fifth anniversary in town, Cameron came to me to receive his Gift. It was the same as yours, Alek. His Gift was nothing.”