My family had always said that I'm strong in the Force. I wish.

For one, I'd love to have a lightsaber – and telekinesis. Alas, perhaps the best way to illustrate what I really have would be the end of Star Wars IV – A New Hope, when Luke Skywalker blows up the Death Star. I get bursts of intuition, which, one way or another, tend to work out well for me.

That said, these bursts of intuition give me a headache – or, in one rather bad case, a badly bleeding nose – so it wasn't really like the Force from Star Wars.

That's me in a nutshell: William Anderson, wannabe Jedi, using a painfully flawed knockoff version of the Force.

And at that moment, the wannabe Jedi was having a headache.

"You alright?" Katherine, my sister, asked.

"Headache," I grumbled.

It throbbed with the beat of my heart, and the grind of gravel under the wheels of our car was of no help. What seemed like an hour later, we reached the end of the hundred yard long gravel drive and stopped.

"I'm heading inside first," I said in the sudden silence.

I pushed open the car door, my feet finding firm ground outside the car.

As the garage door ground open, I ducked inside. I kicked off my shoes and entered the laundry room. Ahead of me was the door to the house proper.

I glanced behind, at the door to the garage, before advancing towards my home.

A premonition hit me, and I paused.

One. Two. Thr— There!

I pushed the door open, the sudden movement startling the cat and sending him streaking back into the house.

Finally, my headache started to lessen. Rather than red-hot nails hammering into my skull, it was now merely needles piercing through my eyes.

The typical day in the life of William Anderson: headaches, but hey, at least the cat didn't escape!

I took a few steps before collapsing into the couch, my bags lying ignored by the doors.

For the past month or so, these headaches had gone from mild twinges to crippling pounding. Somehow, I got the feeling that something big would be happening in the next week or so.

Something big and bad.

I squeezed my eyes shut. The sun was still bright, especially since it was summer. The windows let in loads of light. So much light, in fact, that it hurt my eyes.

I rubbed my forehead and eyes for a second, then let my arms fall to my sides.

It was still early, but I couldn't be bothered to move

My head ached, and I felt a falling sensation.

I jolted upright, my eyes popping open.

I was greeted by the familiar sight of the walls of my room, illuminated by scarce moonlight.

I must have had fallen asleep on the couch, and Dad carried me to bed and tucked me in.

Blearily, I glanced at the clock on the wall, before lying back in bed.

As the week went on, it felt like iron bands had started constricting around my chest. I jumped at every shadow, spun to every sound. So nervous I was, that when my headache abruptly ceased, I didn't notice for an hour.

Katherine, observant as she was, noticed first, that I hadn't winced as badly as usual when we had exited the library into the bright noon daylight.

"You feeling better?" she asked.

I shouldered my bag of books, my eyebrows drawing together.

"Yes, actually."

A second of thought later, I added, "I don't even feel the headache at all!"

A couple of passersby gave me odd looks, but we continued walking, myself, Katherine, and Mom chatting no quieter.

Soon, we reached our car. Mom opened the trunk, and I set my bag of books inside. I took Katherine's bag next, while Mom placed her own two bags.

The trunk now half filled, we closed it and entered the car. The engine started, and set off.

"So your headache is gone," Mom said, "and nothing untoward happened."

"Yet," I grumbled. "I won't be sure until the day's over.

The car made a left.

"Don't be so pessimistic," Katherine said, careful to pronounce the word properly.

After all, since I had mispronounced vocabulary as "voclablablary" last year, she still hadn't let me live it down. I wasn't about to be any nicer to her.

"That's new vocabulary," Mom said, and Katherine and I burst into laughter.

Eventually, we made the right off the paved roads and onto gravel. Trees surrounded the road.

Unlike last week, I had no headache for the grind of gravel to acerbate.

That night, I sat on the couch, gazing off into the night. The stars were barely visible, but the moon shone bright. As I watched through the window, wisps of mist crept from the forest into our backyard. My eyelids drooped as the mist slowly obscured the moonlight. It slowly thickened.

I glanced at the clock. It was almost midnight, and then the day would be over.

Tick, went the clock. Tick tick.

The minute hand slid to zero, and I released a breath I hadn't realized I was holding. The day was over, and nothing untoward had happened.

I stood, walking to my room. I lay in bed, and immediately fell into a deep sleep.