By Cynthia Parker
Bitter bile rose in my throat as photo after photo was thrust into my hands. Dead. Dead. Dead.
“I need a break,” I pleaded.
Instead, more photos, bringing with them bright flashes of light, screams, and searing pain. Nothing could block the images. Not the dimly lit room, the curt soldiers, or my desperate pleas.
The next one was a school photo, female, kindergarten. My fingers traced the contours of her sweet face. Cool, damp darkness. Heaviness pressing on my chest.
“She’s alive—in the rubble of the school lunch room.”
“Get a team to Cross Hill Elementary,” the guard shouted.
Sometimes they call it “the gift,” but it’s not a gift I’d want. Really good story.
Thank you, Scott.
This would make a great longer story, Parker, with this paranormal fellow solving several mysterious crimes with his psi powers. This is one of my favorite subjects, and I liked it a lot.
I have thought about a longer work with this theme. Maybe something involving the first time the person decided to let others know about his/her talents. Thank you, Bobby!
A good subject to play with … Nice read, well done.