Jamie on the Rise
Brisa Peterson and Alyssa Miller
Prologue
I was an early developer, but probably not the developing your thinking about. No, that actually came a little late to tell you the truth. My developing was all in my head, while I was still 4 or 5 my mind was rearranging itself and creating new ways to see things. Ways that shouldn't have been possible. When I was five years old, my Sight kicked in. I was seeing crazy things, things that almost made me crazy. Instead of watching TV, I watched lives fly by. I watched new ones begin, and old ones end. I watched the joy of birth and the pain and regret of someone taking a life. I've seen things little girls should never even have heard of, things that made every inch of the world reek with sorrow. Nothing could make it go away; nothing could stop the torture I went through almost every time I shut my eyes. I tried, believe me, I tried every possible thing my five year old mind could think of but nothing stopped the visions. I tried telling my Mother, she was with me the first time it happened.
But, my family was very Christian and it did not sit well with them that their daughter supposedly had a gift from the devil. No, it did not sit well at all. When I told my mom, I was surprised, by the look on her face, that she did not try to smite me where I stood. Maybe you should see for yourself.
My eyes roamed around the crowded street as I walked with my mother, looking at all the different faces passing by without a second glance. I looked at a harried mother of three, a stuffy man in a business suit and finally my eyes fell upon a dirty, scruffy old man sitting by the stone wall across the street. A weird feeling started in the back of my head and I stopped walking. My mother tugged impatiently on my hand. "Jamie, come on." she said, "We're going to be late!" I tried to comply but I felt as if something was dragging me in, and then I was falling into my own head, right down into a surprisingly clear image. An image of the man right across the street from us now. But something was wrong, the image showed that the sun had set, and the street was deserted. I watched as the man got up, as if spotting something, and started walking across the street. He didn't see the light until it was too late. A truck crossed the image. Horn blaring, the truck hit the man, killing him instantly. The image faded and I came back to the present gasping. "Jamie!" my mother called my name. "Let's go Jamie! We're going to be late!" I knew then that she hadn't seen the image. I told her what I had seen and as I did her eyes widened. "Jamie, don't you ever talk about that again! That is bad! Shame on you!" Being a little girl, I didn't want my mom to be angry with me, so, tearing up, I apologized profusely, promising never to speak of it again.
The visions never stopped, but they got worse. But, I started having one vision regularly when I was nine. It was a girl of about eleven, with black and blue dyed hair, writhing on the ground in obvious pain. Then, her eyes would snap open revealing a glowing yellow and the vision would end. But, I would have given anything for that to be the worst of it. Sadly to say, it wasn't.