Jeanie knows what's coming. She sees it in her dreams every night; she feels it in the very air she breathes. But she's trapped in a world of 'unvisionaries', people who won't see the same as she does.
But now that world is in danger. And it's up to her to save it.
People say that it’s impossible to remember being in your mother’s womb, but I do.
I remember the sound of her gentle voice, the touch of her hands on her expanding belly, and the sight of the blood walls that I called home for seven months.
I was premature and parted cruelly from my mother’s body by the sharp touch of knife, but I quickly adapted to life outside of her, and soon learnt that I was different from the others around me. Even at the beginning of my education, I was suffering from identity crises, and the knowing dread that nobody wanted to play with me. In fact, some were even afraid.
It was my gifts they were afraid of; the stages that I went through. First came the incredible ability where I could memorise numbers in a flash. To start with, it was small numbers and the simple sums that were learnt in childhood, but next, I hungered for more and started grabbing whatever I could and confining it to the depths of my mind: phone numbers, International Standard Book Numbers, security codes… Just when my parents were afraid that it would ruin them, that stage came to an anticlimax. It stopped, just like that. They were so grateful, but then the next stage came. And it was worse.
I could sense. Sense the feelings of others, not just animals, but the feelings of inanimate objects, or, to be more precise, I could feel and read the echoes of people who had previously made contact with the objects. On a few occasions, I could even sense the next move of certain people (more often than not, visitors to our house). That’s why we stopped having them round to our home. My parents still had their friends, but they kept them far away from me.
I never had any friends myself. I supposed it was just as well, as I would have seen them burn along with the rest of the planet, in the new ‘stage’ I was going through.
I heard about it first through the trees. They were scared. Then the earth would quiver with fright too, and my every footfall would bring about another message.
Fire and water harmoniously kept their mouths shut, against the bittersweet lies that birds could sing.
No, it was the wind who finally gave me the truth.
There’ll be a way out, it whispered sweet nothings to me, but first there’ll have to be a way in.
And that was how it started.