Chapter 1 - Life's Little Problems

 

August 12th, 2022

Since last week, I haven't been able to write. Weird things have happened to me since I was a child, I know… but – never before, I felt like this. My name is Jamie Cross, I turned 18 less than 2 weeks ago.

 

I wonder if all of this was somehow connected to my turn of age.

 

“Ah, Jamie… another coffee this evening? You have been coming down to the shop too often lately,” Miss Green said, with her usual caring, kind smile.

 

“Indeed,” I replied. “A cup of coffee always did get my mind off these matters, Miss Green. You know, Life’s little problems.”

 

I tried hard not to make eye contact with her, although I had done it years ago and knew what was within her heart – knew her deepest despair. I smiled, paid for the cup of coffee, chuckled at a joke or two from Miss Green, and found myself a chair back on one of the empty tables. Most of the tables were filled with people, some reading newspapers, some typing away on their laptops, some just enjoying a lovely conversation with their friends.

 

This wasn’t the first time I’ve felt weird. At the start of High school, I discovered something no man had ever spoken of. However, I always did have an active imagination, ever since I could remember.

 

“Mom, don’t you see it? It is right there, there is my dragon!” Little Jamie used to say it every time, pointing at the skies above Crosswoods park at picnics. Mom chuckles at this and rustles my hair. “No, honey! There is nothing there…” she would respond. And when I frowned, she would tickle me, make me smile, and say, “Oooo, I do see it.” Then I’d smile once again.

 

When we were kids, my twin sister’s favorite word used to be ‘Delusional.’ Because she would say that to me every single day. Well, she wasn’t kidding. She still jokes about it sometimes.

 

“Storytime, Jamie.” My mother always smirked at me as we were ready to sleep, and cuddled us close to her. I was nine at the time. I always had a keen interest in stories, maybe that was what drove me to imagine these worlds. To escape reality. “Mom, why  again? He’s being delusional and stupid. Why do we have to listen to his stupid stories every day?” My sister grumbles.

 

“You shush, Alice. Let your brother say what he saw today. Let’s listen to his adventures from his faraway lands,” Mom said. Then, she would turn to me and say, “You go on, hon.” My sister huffs every time this happens.

 

Then, I’d smile at them and happily continue to tell the stories I have lived with the characters I have created myself. It was funny how the magical creatures I met that day were too similar to the dragons I’d seen in the movie the other night. “Heh? So I think I have heard of this character before,” Alice would say with a suspicious gaze directed at me.

 

“The silver-scaled dragon tossed me into the air – it was magical! I felt like flying!”

 

And so on.

 

“The Dragon swooped down from the gray skies. Lorak had betrayed me. Curses.With the dragon blade within my grasp, I stood before the beautiful blonde-haired Queen, her blue eyes gazing at me with fear.” I looked at my Mom. She has blonde hair and blue eyes, and she is very beautiful even today. She would smile at me, kindly as I explained the appearance of characters similar to her. Because they were always based on her, and she loved it.

 

When I pause as she pats me and rustles my curly hair into more of a mess, my sister, who had been listening to the story all along while she was pretending to be asleep would yell, “Eh? Why’d you stop?”

 

My mother would laugh, and hug us both tightly – in tears.

 

However, years had passed. I stopped imagining things at the start of middle school, the silver-scaled dragons, the Princess who always sat beside me in the backseat of the bus, they all started to vanish. My world was soon overtaken by Reality.

 

And then… At the very beginning of Middle School, something within me changed.

 

I started to feel things differently, constant headaches, always sleeping till Mom woke me up in the morning. I didn’t tell Mom why… because I was scared.

 

I was scared that I would be taken away to the Freak House. A place for the abnormal, a place for Witches. This is a society filled with magic and abnormality. It was frightening to think that I could be – one of them. Back in 7th Grade, Joseph Hall clarified all about the Freaks to us during the lunch break. That’s how I learned to be frightened.

 

“Yes, Boonie. It’s spreading like a disease, guys,” Joseph announced to the few kids at the table who were gazing at him with wide eyes.

 

“Not true!” Annie Roach, the short curly haired who sat beside me during the lab period disagreed.

 

“Not true?? Have you seen the news, Annie? Have you seen it? They found a witch in a college in New York. And you know what – the person who became a Freak had no connection of blood in her family whatsoever,” Joseph said, and we gasped. “My father says they should’ve erased the Witches and Mages in the 1600s.”

 

I wanted to say, “Killing people is a bad thing to do,” but that just left me with a question. Why was I trying to stand up for Witches? Because I might be one?I thought.

 

Soon, things became better.  It was 9th grade, and I convinced myself that I was not a Freak. “Our family had no ties with any of these Witches,” Mom confessed one day when I asked the question. Then, she spoke no more.

 

However, halfway through High School – things became different. Strange. Once again, unusual. I began to see things very differently than before. I know… I had an overactive imagination when I was a child, but this was just way weirder.

 

It first happened to me at my favorite coffee shop, Mrs. Green’s coffee shop, right under the building we lived in. 

 

I had a long day and went to Band Practice right after-school. I was tired, and I needed a coffee. I came to this place with Mom and Alice often, so Mrs. Green knew us.

 

I stepped into the shop, there were not many people there. It was near 10 at the time. Mom told me to come around at 9 for Dinner, but Neil’s Mom served us Dinner that day. So, there was only a place for a small coffee left in my stomach.

 

I took a seat on a counter stool and said, “One coffee please, Mrs. Green.”

 

Mrs. Green was an old woman, Mom said she’d been running this shop for years now. According to her, this shop first opened when she went to college.

 

“Hmm…? Aren’t you Mary’s child?” She fixed her round glasses and gazed at me. I wasn’t too surprised she remembered me. “Yes, I am,” I replied. At this moment, my head started to burn up once again, as it did when I was little.

 

“You seem exhausted, child.” The woman said, filling a cup. “Long day? You know, your mother always came here and talked with me. She still does, mostly Fridays.”

 

This drew a smile on my face. “Hmm, I wondered why she often came home late on Fridays. So, you guys are close?”

 

“Boyo, I worked here for ages. I know many people, who they are, and what they do. Your Mom’s a special one, I remember when she was just a young brat, her and that Ashley girl whining about passing college. They always came to me for a rant. They were good company though, we talked a lot… and it had grown into a habit for the many who gave me a visit to chat after one or two nights. Still, I think their company is what kept me going,” the old woman handed me the cup of coffee.

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“Well, they don’t just love the coffee then, Mrs. Green. They love you too,” I said to her. She smiled, an honest one that most of us can’t see these days. The broth of the warm coffee entered through my nostrils, and it made me warm. The night was cold, and this was just what I needed. “Ha…. thank you.”

 

“Your welcome, son –“ Mrs. Green stopped speaking. Our eyes met for a second, and I looked into her old gray eyes. We were frozen, not just her, me too. I felt as if I was drawn, drawn into her eyes. For a moment, I felt as if I was not physically attached to this body.

 

Hello, I tried to speak, but no words came out of my mouth – honestly, it felt as if I had no mouth.  

 

It was all blank for a moment, and suddenly, I was somewhere. Somewhere I had never been to before.

 

I gazed around hesitantly. I was in a room. A woman’s room. I could tell from the underwear left hanging on the laundry buckets and the Leonardo DiCaprio wallpaper. Where am I?I thought. Where is Mrs. Green –

 

The sound of a weeping girl disturbed me. I turned, only to see a young woman sitting on a bed. She had long gray hair and two beautiful gray eyes. I noticed those eyes at once. Mrs. Green?? What the hell…? How did you – how is she young?

 

“Mrs. Green?” I spoke, finally, but the words just echoed around me. “Why are you crying? What happened to you – and why am I here?” I shouted out once again, hoping she would hear me. No, she had no reaction whatsoever; she just sat there, hugging her legs, weeping.

 

Then, I noticed the calendar beside her bed. June 1991.  

 

“WHAT?” This wasn’t the year I lived in, and Mrs. Green is young?

 

I was so confused; I was left speechless. I couldn’t tell what was true or not – because this felt all too real. So, I just decided to observe. I stood beside the weeping woman and observed.

 

“Why – why did you have to do this to me… Kevin. You know I am married, why’d you have to make me love you?” she blurted out as she cried. I had no clue who Kevin was, but I could tell that it was her secret lover. “Kevin… I can’t love you now. My parents gave me a choice, and it was Ronald. No more – I can’t take you as a lover,” the woman said to herself, weeping once again.

 

I blinked, and – suddenly, the room disappeared. Now, I was in another place, a street. I was in front of a grass field, near a single Red Maple. There was a car behind me and two people. One was Mrs. Green, her hair seemed longer than before. The other was a man, a tall strong-looking man wearing a leather jacket, classic 19s one.

 

The woman and the man were staring at the distance, side by side. A strong breeze blew past us, hauling the leaves of the red maple. The woman’s hair ruffled as the breeze touched her, her long skirt fluttering in the air. However, I felt nothing. Not a touch of the breeze, no chill, not even the warmth of the evening sun sinking behind the great city in the distance.

 

“So,” the man gulped. “You’re saying that you can’t come with me now, are you? You’re staying with that bastard? Tell me, Serena. What does he have compared to the life I can give you?”

 

Serena, Mrs. Green’s eyes watered. She tried to wipe them away, but her tears did not cease. “No – I can’t, Kevin. He’s given me everything I have now, and there is no way Mother is going to accept this.”

 

“So it’s a no? Why… why are you rejecting me?” he implored.

 

“This is fucking crazy, Kevin! You can’t just take me out here like this… What if Johnny found out, huh? What then? What if he – he hurts you,” the woman broke into tears. Kevin’s eyes were now filled with tears. He grabbed her by the hand, pulled her to his chest, and kissed her. They kissed for a long while, and I blinked.

 

Yet again, the scenes had switched. I was finally coming to an understanding. I’m inside Mrs. Green’s head. In her memories.

 

The next scene was startling. Just as I switched, there was a man. A man lying on the floor, covered in blood, a knife stuck right into his heart. It was Kevin. It was the living room of an apartment, the couch tossed over, the TV broken, the windows shattered. The cries of the weeping woman were ear-splitting. She was crouching near the wall, beside the wall phone, hanging beside her by the cord.

 

“Hello? Miss?? Are you okay?” the person on the other side was calling out. “We’re coming there, Miss! Hang on! Quick! Murder!” It was surely the police. 

 

I was speechless, my eyes did not blink. I have never witnessed real blood like this. I have never witnessed the face of a screaming woman like I did that day. 

 

Then, there was the killer. He had no pleasure on his face, it was a lifeless expression. He just stood there, staring at the blood of the dead body spreading across the floor.

 

After discerning his face, I blinked.

 

The scenes switched once more. I was in a car, beside a gray-haired woman, wearing shades. There was a smile drawn across her face now, she took a picture from her coat pocket as she drove. I was sitting beside her, and I couldn’t take her eyes off the scene. She is smiling, after all that?I told myself.

 

I glanced at the picture, it was a picture of Kevin. “Bye, love.” She spoke to it, kissed it, and tossed it out of the window. There was only joy in her face now, I could tell. In the distance, there was a large board reading “Welcome to Crosswoods.”

 

I blinked again.

 

My hand was warm; I could finally feel again. The old woman smiled at me. “Hmm? Boyo – is there a problem?” she asked me, staring at me with those gray eyes. I was left speechless. I didn’t know what had happened, how I traveled into her memories, but I knew I had to say this. “You did the right thing, Mrs. Green. You were strong.”

 

 “Kiddo?”

 

I smiled at her and emptied the coffee down my system.

 

“Ha-ha, you’re a strange one, just like your Mom. Well, if anything happens… come here, sit down and let’s talk, shall we? And as I say to every one of my friends, have hope. After all, everyone has their life’s little secrets.”

 

That day I went back home, lay down in bed, and wondered and wondered past midnight. “What if I really am a Freak?” I chuckled. But then, I remembered Mrs. Green. “Have hope,” her voice echoed in my head. Then… I drew up my blanket and drifted off to sleep.

 

That was the day that I first began to feel the world. To this day, there was no record of a witch having such power as traveling across memories, it wasn’t possible – according to the Internet. So, I didn’t see it as a flaw – as a thing a Freak would have. I wasn’t very social or attached to anyone like that before, but after I started seeing these things, I became more and more attached to the world. But I never glimpsed into the memories of my Mother, I forbid myself from doing that. I never needed to enter her mind. She was my mother, she loved me, and there was no need to enter her personal life without permission.

 

After looking into some of the people, I have understood this. Yes, after I traveled Mrs. Green’s memories, I had a grasp of this quite a bit. I traveled across minds, I saw the sorrow of the people I met, the people I wanted to see into. I saw their life, and soon… stories – like when I was once a child, brewed in my head. So – I began to put it down to paper. Now I am a full-time author…

 

I didn’t treat this as a power, I treated this as a gift. I hoped. Not to turn into a witch, a Freak. And then, here I was, sitting in the coffee shop with my head laid against the window. I smiled upon recalling the many memories I have seen; the reality I’ve witnessed. So far in my life, I had hope. This was the third time my head had grown warmer, and now… I hoped once more.

 

There are licensed Vampires, Shifters, Faeries, and many masses who could use magic, and only the Freaks were neglected by society entirely. They all rose with the times, maybe I could use magic. Maybe this was a gift. Who knows? And so….

 

I hoped.

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