Prologue
Year: 1913
A scene flashed across my vision very suddenly. The first thing I noticed in it was a large, grey, gloomy building. The surrounding courtyard was almost completely deserted and it seemed as though the place had not seen the sun in ages. It was probably the saddest place I had ever seen at the time—although that wasn't really saying much as I was only six and a half years old. Still, I did feel really bad for the person who lived there…
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"Mary-Alice, sweetie, can you hear me? Mary-Alice? Alice!?"
The ominous building disappeared—replaced by my mother's anxious face. She was quickly waving her hands in front of my face as she was calling out to me. Oops. I must have worried her again.
"Mama?"
"Yes? Are you alright?" Annette Brandon's brow was still furrowed a little with stress as suspicion started to creep into her eyes.
"Mama, I saw a scary place. It was big and—"
"I know dear, you saw something again. You 'see' so many things, dear, but really, what is this all about? Do you need attention? Is that it?"
"No! I do not need attention! I really saw a building. I did. I promise."
She sighed in exasperation—her usual response to my "pretending"; Mama never believed me….but she was starting to worry and I didn't like that.
My strange behavior was routine in the Brandon household and it was tiring her out. It was only me, the eldest daughter, who had had these visions but I'd been having them for awhile now. What if they never stopped coming to me? I wouldn't really mind…but Mama would. She'd probably be really embarrassed. Come to think of it, when people came over to our house, she would quickly introduce me and then hide me in another room for the remaining time they spent here. I never knew why, but now that I thought about it…it was almost kind of…annoying. I scrunched up my nose, forgetting about everything else for a minute.
Mama opened her mouth as if she was about to say something when we both heard my three-year-old sister crying from the next room.
"Mary-Alice," —my mother liked to use a combination of my first and middle names as I didn't really like my first name at all; 'Mary' was just too common—"Can you find a way to occupy yourself for a minute?" she asked apologetically looking once at her first-borne and then turning towards the door.
I nodded even though she already had her back to me.
I decided to resume what I was going to do before I saw the big, scary building. What was I doing again? Oh, right: I was on my way to the living room. I skipped over into the little cozy room where my family spent most nights together after dinner and over to a little electric box that was sitting perfectly within reach on the fireplace mantle. Actually I had to climb over daddy's red arm chair to reach it, but that was my little secret. I reached up to turn the little dial on the radio and it suddenly came alive with an argument between two angry men, but this wasn't what I was looking for. I slowly turned the bigger of the other two shiny knobs. Who wanted to listen to the news, after all? I only did with the rest of my family when Papa came home. I turned the dial until I found a station that was playing a catchy tune. Music swept through the room—the house, even and what's more was that it swept through me as I started dancing to my own rhythm. I really did like the radio, after all. I hummed along with it for a few minutes, jumping and swaying and turning, sometimes tripping…
I heard the door open and close and my attention refocused on something entirely different: Papa was home! I couldn't help being excited. After all, I was my daddy's big girl. I crept over to the door and peeked out into the hallway, ready to run up and give him a big "welcome-home" hug or surprise him from behind, should his back be to me. Mama had gotten there first, though, and was already in the middle of a conversation with him. I couldn't exactly interrupt.
I knew it wasn't right to eavesdrop—especially not on your parents—but my curiosity mixed with my mischievous side had already won over the morality battle.
It seemed as if they were trying to keep their voices low, even with the music playing in the living room, but I could still make out what they were saying pretty easily as their "hushed voices" were more like stage whispers.
"I just don't know what to do. We both thought it was just a phase she was going through but I am honestly starting to believe that she thinks that she's seeing things."
Were they talking about me? I listened more intently and felt something…open inside of me. It was like a door to some other part of my brain and the harder I listened, the wider it opened.
"Calm down, Anne," he said reasonably, "She's just a little kid. Kids like to play around sometimes and you know how mischievous Alice can be. You know, two weeks ago I caught her listening to one of those horror stations on the radio way past her bed time." He chuckled quietly. "Bold, too, for a young girl."
"Mary-Alice does not look like she's fooling around, though. I think I've been noticing these episodes happening more often nowadays, too. Do you know what else is weird? Whenever I start to consider that maybe we should get her some help, it happens again! It's almost as if she's trying to make up my mind for me! But how could she know?! All I'm saying is that I think maybe she's—"
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Old, widowed, Mr. Jones had just decided to go get a glass of water downstairs. He was hobbling down the stairs of his two-story home with a candle in his hand, when he stumbled on one of the steps and fell the rest of the way down, finally landing at the foot of the steps thoroughly unable to move. Unfortunately the candle had also fallen, but instead of being extinguished upon hitting the floor, the flame immediately touched the banister which caught on fire. In a few minutes the house would be history and poor Mr. Jones…
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"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!! Somebody help him! It's on fire! We need to go help him!" I realized I was screaming but somehow, I couldn't stop. I kind of realized that this wasn't exactly the best time to be displaying my vision but someone's life was in jeopardy. I couldn't help it: I started crying.
Before I knew it, my mother was kneeling down beside me, pulling me towards her and then patting my head, comforting me, cooing, "Shhh. Shhh….it's alright. It's alright." I hid my
face in Mama's shoulder. She held on to me tighter but grew silent. The only noises left in the entire house were my muffled sobs.