Like most of my other Jhonen ff, this fic can be found on Over the Stars. (Will ff.net get mad at me for saying that? Will they eat my brains? Well ha to them; they're filled with prions anyway) If you're wondering why I'm putting it here, it's that I think this place has a lot more people wandering through it, and I crave reviews (as caffeine was abandoned for causing eye twitching)

Disclaimer: I own all but those things which I do not own. If you are unable to tell which things I do not own, just assume I made it all up, but take no legal action based on your own flawed conceptions. hee hee.

***

Dib settled down deeper into the couch, mumbling about the amount of seriously aged potato chips rotting under the cushions. The glow of the tv permeated every corner of the room with green and yellow stripes.

Here we see the field where it all happened, the host's voice grated through the spooky background music. The camera panned over the field and to a farm in the distance. The Corning of the Cows.

Oh man, Dib said, grabbing more chips out from under his butt. The Corning of the Cows? Mysterious Mysteries is lacking tonight.

The footage is authentic and grisly, viewer discretion is advised. Dib glanced up. Five cows lay dead, arranged in a bloody circle. Ears of corn had been cruelly stabbed through their hides. The camera zoomed in to one ear where dried blood filled the spaces between the kernels. Blurs and black bars kept the viewer from seeing the cows' heads. Dib said softly. That looks real...

His critical eye scanned the screen for wires, models, plaster cow parts, or digital enhancement. There seemed to be none. Dib made a face. I'm glad I'm not that cow, he said.

The most disturbing part of all this, said the announcer, now standing in the field, is that it could have been prevented. This is Anna. A pair of arms pushed a wild looking girl into view. She glared in the stage-hand's direction, then stared into the camera. Anna had a vision the night before, but no one believed her. She tried telling her parents-

The camera cut to a couple sitting in plush chairs. The woman looked distressed, and the man was angry.

I keep telling you, my daughter ain't one of your freaks! She didn't see nothin! screamed the man.

But she showed you the picture, right? came the announcer's voice.

The woman twisted a dishrag in her hands. She draws disturbin' things all the time, mister. We don't take her mental instability to heart no more. Not after the dog dun got hit by that pig truck. We loved Zippy, and Anna dun drawed im gettin' hit by that mean old truck the night before. We learned not to look at her pictures no more.

The camera cut back to the field. Anna was holding an enlarged poster of her picture. This is what Anna saw, two nights ago.

Dib squinted at the screen. Five crudely drawn blobs with black and white patches lay in a circle. Yellow lines poked into the blobs and crimson trickled down from them. The background was a confusing mess of green spikes and more yellow lines. The screen split, showing the picture and the scene together. The crayon drawing was eerily accurate. Wow. I'd say she's got genuine ESP, said Dib.

Now, these visions, began the announcer, how vivid are they?

said Anna, they aren't really visions. It's not like a movie, where you're just standing there and the sterile action unfolds before you.

The announcer blinked. Dib did, too. The girl had an icy, matter-of-fact voice that seemed devoid of care. There was a slight lilt in the tone she used, giving the words an extra sharp feeling. Dib took a closer look at her. Brown, shoulder length hair, unbrushed, framed a pallid face. Her eyes were large and cold, and the color was indeterminate. She wore a beige shirt covered with paint stains and black shorts. Anna looked like something wild that wanted to run and scream, but didn't know where to or how loud, or what good it would be anyway. It was an odd look, Dib thought.

No, it's not like a movie at all, she continued. She studied the cow closest to her. You don't feel anything or smell anything in a movie theater.

Are you saying that you live out the experience? probed the narrator.

Yes, it's something like that. One minute you're the cow, the next you're the corn, the next you're the mud, the next you're another cow. Her eyes glazed over. It's quite painful and very real.

The announcer grimaced. There was a couple of seconds of silence, until the camera man coughed enthusiastically.

Ah, um... well, the reason Anna appealed to Mysterious Mysteries is that she has a new picture. Anna doesn't want something like this to happen again. Next to the announcer, Anna nodded curtly. She didn't seem to really care if it happened again. Dib thought she probably didn't want to have to live through another massacre. This is Anna's latest picture. Unlike her past pictures, she is neither a relative nor acquaintance to the victim. If you have any information, or know the person depicted, please call 1-800-NOT-DEAD.

The painted image filled the screen.

Dib's jaw dropped.

Oh... god...

That is certainly a big-headed kid, commented the announcer.

Anna nodded. He doesn't like it when people say that, though, she said coldly. She stared blankly into the camera. You better be careful, stranger.

The show cut to an irritating commercial.

Dib sat in shock, still clutching a handful of nasty chips. The image burned behind his eyes, stretching his mind into dreadful places.

Unlike the crude crayon drawing, the painting had been done with ferocious care. Each brush stroke was violent but clear. So much acrylic paint had been used that the scene was textured. It was him, he was sure. It was a boy lying haphazardly among shards of reddened glass and metal. A black coat lay to one corner of the image, and the trademark face shirt Dib loved was ripped and mangled. His tongue poked out of the corner of his mouth, Q signing, an indication of severe brain damage. Dib scrunched up his eyes. The worst part was where his glasses had shattered and then been forced halfway into his face.

What's wrong with you?

The growly voice startled him. He opened his eyes. he said. I just saw on Mysterious Mysteries-

Gaz frowned more than usual and pulled at the package of batteries she was holding.

No, wait, this is important, you have to listen to me-

Do I, Dib? She groaned a little in irritation. The plastic packaging was resisting her. She ripped it apart with her teeth. What if I don't hear anything?

Gaz, I think I'm going to die! He looked at her, arms spread urgently.

She snorted. We're all going to die, you're not special.

No, I mean soon. Before I'm old and senile. Before I'm supposed to!

Gaz sighed harshly and put one hand on her hip. What made you think that? Is there some disease they showed on the tv that only kills stupid, big-headed brothers?

No! There's this girl that can draw stuff from the future, and she drew me dead!

How do you know it was you? Gaz sounded bored. She held one battery between her thumb and first finger and squinted at it.

The kid was wearing a shirt like me, and a jacket like me, well, he wasn't wearing it, it was on the ground, and he had glasses, and-

Gaz started to walk away.



No, you wait, she said impatiently. Do you know how much more stupid than usual you sound? Do you know how many people on the planet have clothes like you, and how many wear glasses? And that everything on that show is phony anyway? I mean, if you had some sort of disfigurement that was really noticeable and the kid in the picture had it, too, then maybe you'd have some sort of argument.

said Dib reluctantly, he did have a big head...

Gaz opened one eye. You're only saying that so I'll believe you.

No! He really did! The announcer even commented on it. Dib searched his mind frantically. I'm taping the episode! Oh wait-

The commercials ended and the show came back on. There was the picture, enveloping the screen. The announcer was repeating the phone number and asking people to call in.

Gaz peered at it. It does sort of resemble you. I like how she captured the look of complete horror and agony on your face.

Dib said flatly. At least Gaz had bothered to look, and seemed to believe him.

Without warning, Gaz spun around and left the room.

Hey! Aren't you going to help me? Dib shut his mouth as soon as he said it. What could Gaz do? What sort of help did he want?

No one can help you, her voice faded into a laugh. She retreated upstairs.

Dib picked up the phone.

-to reroute the terminal force port to the dorsal engines, sir, an unfamiliar person spoke.

Dib stared into the phone.

Wait a moment, came Dr Membrane's voice, the line has been compromised. Dib! Gaz! Get off the line! This is a very important call!

But dad! I'm going to d-

Not now, son! You can use it as soon as I'm done.



Not now!

Dib slammed the phone down. The tv flashed and he glanced at it.

Due to the huge number of incoming calls, said the announcer, we request that all of you who think you have information hold on for a couple of hours. It will take some time to sort this all out. He turned to Anna. Before we move on to the next segment, is there anything else you want to say?

Anna's lids were half shut. She looked extremely unamused. Stranger, you have less than 24 hours. I'll be on the swings. I like irises.

The announcer put his hand to his forehead. I am not getting paid enough, he mumbled.

Dib flicked the tv off. The vcr would still tape the episode. Not that he felt he had any time to watch it now. His mind raced. What was the last thing Anna had said?

I'll be on the swings? I like irises? That must be some sort of code. He grabbed a piece of paper and wrote down the quotes. But what does it mean?

Iris Park, Dib.

He glanced up. Gaz was hanging down the back of the couch, hovering over him. Stop doing that!

There are swings in the park, she continued. Go there now.

Dib narrowed his eyes. Why did you come back down here? To help me?

She laughed. No. I just remembered a story I wanted to tell you. You ever heard about the guy and the airplanes?

Airplanes. Dib remembered the glass and metal in the picture.

There once was a guy who went to go see a psychic or something, and she told him that he was going to die in a plane crash. He was so afraid that he sold all his stuff and bought a cabin in the middle of some woods, hundreds of miles away from any airports. Then, one night, a plane crashed into his house.

She grinned.

That's horrible! Dib said.

Gaz looked down into the cushions. Hey! Where are my chips?

I threw them away, they were disgusting. Dib absentmindedly rubbed his greasy hands on the back of the couch.

Gaz growled. Those were personal chips, Dib.

Are you saying that if the guy hadn't gone into the woods, he never would have died?

You can't just go around throwing other people's things away, Gaz said.

Dib didn't hear her. He tilted his head. Is that some statement about fate?

She growled again. Your fate, yes. She reached a hand down and grabbed his hair.

So if I react the way- OW! Pain streaked into his skull. He clawed at her hand. Leave me alone!

She sneered into his face.

In a couple of hours you won't even need to worry about me anymore! Dib screamed, half sarcastically. Surprisingly, she let go. Silently she stalked away.

Crazy girl, Dib muttered, pulling his fingers through his hair. He pulled his boots on. He didn't bother to tell his dad where he was going: he wouldn't be allowed to enter the room to tell him anyway.

He stepped outside. It was warm out, and faintly light, as the sun set much later these summer days. The streetlights were on, attracting small clouds of moths. Dib took a deep breath and set out for the park.