Painful Sight
Summary: This very short story was inspired by "Gifted."
Disclaimer: Early Edition characters belong to whoever created them. No copyright infringement intended. No profit is being made. Some of the dialogue that appears in this story is not my own, but belongs to the writer of the Early Edition episode "Gifted".
Author: Tracy Diane Miller E-mail address: tdmiller82@hotmail.com
Painful Sight
He understood what she was feeling, the guilt. He understood how hungry guilt was, how it devoured the body like a parasite. And how even after guilt had ravaged the flesh until the clean white bones of the carcass were left to lay in shame for all to see, guilt remained a glutton with an intent to feed on the soul. And after that, nothing was left. He understood how hard it was to fight so powerful a demon as guilt. And he knew that the only weapon was forgiveness, finding a way to forgive oneself. Yet, the ability to forgive oneself, a quality of forgiveness that was as sweet as a lark appearing from the black of storm clouds to sing a song of hope and rebirth, could be elusive.
Whatever deity had endowed him and Nikki with the power to "see" the future perhaps hadn't realized what a "painful sight" such ability was. With knowledge comes responsibility as any learned philosopher might argue. The advance knowledge of impending disaster, of lives teetering on the brink of injury or death, suggests a responsibility to save those lives. Yet, just as there are no lessons in how to be a hero, there is similarly no instruction on how to cope with failure especially when that failure resulted in the loss of life. The astute argument of the spirit of Lucius Snow to "count the living not the dead" had been a buoy tossed to a man whose battered body and mind had convinced him that death was what he had coming. He had been a man who had embraced guilt as if it were a friend that told him the truth regardless of how painful it was for him to hear it. If only he had done things differently then Jeremiah and Earl would still be alive.
But sitting in this church, in a pew next to her, he knew that this moment wasn't about him. It was about her, about helping her to view her "sight" as a blessing not a curse, and about showing her how to "count the living not the dead." It was about helping her to realize that she was truly gifted. And finally, it was about helping her to forgive herself so that she would be able to move on. How hard it must be for a child to shoulder such weighty issues as life and death. He had lived with his "sight" for over three years now and sometimes it was difficult for him to remember what life was like before he got the Paper. And even after three years, the ingratitude of some of the people that he saved still bothered him. The looks and the comments from people who considered him a nut still bothered him. Even as he tried to convince himself that the words were from unenlightened individuals who found comfort in their snap judgments maybe as a need to make them feel important. But that didn't mean that their remarks didn't hurt. However, for Nikki, the ridicule was worse. Her "sight" had rendered her an outcast among her peers. She was someone to laugh at and to hurl disparaging words. When they looked at her, they saw a freak. Even more tragic was that when she looked at herself, she saw the same thing.
The church welcomed two misunderstood souls into her bosom. Unlike Marissa, he hadn't really been a proponent of the power of Faith. But somehow he would be able to find the words to help her.
She looked at him as a realization washed over her. "The school bus. You can see things, too."
"Not exactly." He replied.
"But you know. When something bad is going to happen, you know." She probed.
"Sometimes."
"Only you can fix it."
"No, not always. Look, I couldn't have stopped your father any more than you could have. I'm sorry."
"But they were my parents." She said, her voice choked with emotion.
"Look, Nikki. Sometimes no matter how hard you try, no matter how much you know, you can't make things come out the way you want them to. You got to understand that."
"I'm trying."
"Yes, you are. Look, knowing what's going to happen before it happens...Nikki, it's a big responsibility."
"I didn't ask for it."
"And neither did I, but you can't run away from it. I've tried. I know that. Please believe me. You can look at this thing as a curse, and that's exactly what it's going to be, a curse. But if you can look at it as a gift, if you can look at it as a way of helping people and changing people's lives, well, then it's a blessing. At least, that's what I found. It just takes a little while getting used to."
"You really think that I'm a good kid?"
"Yeah, I think that you're a good kid."
He hugged her. Against the backdrop of the church and the sound of a cat's meow, two special people who had endured "painful sight" found a kinship in each other. And perhaps their acceptance of this sight as a blessing not a curse would help them find that wonderful quality of forgiveness, learning how to forgive themselves.
Perhaps now the pain could go away.
The End.
Summary: This very short story was inspired by "Gifted."
Disclaimer: Early Edition characters belong to whoever created them. No copyright infringement intended. No profit is being made. Some of the dialogue that appears in this story is not my own, but belongs to the writer of the Early Edition episode "Gifted".
Author: Tracy Diane Miller E-mail address: tdmiller82@hotmail.com
Painful Sight
He understood what she was feeling, the guilt. He understood how hungry guilt was, how it devoured the body like a parasite. And how even after guilt had ravaged the flesh until the clean white bones of the carcass were left to lay in shame for all to see, guilt remained a glutton with an intent to feed on the soul. And after that, nothing was left. He understood how hard it was to fight so powerful a demon as guilt. And he knew that the only weapon was forgiveness, finding a way to forgive oneself. Yet, the ability to forgive oneself, a quality of forgiveness that was as sweet as a lark appearing from the black of storm clouds to sing a song of hope and rebirth, could be elusive.
Whatever deity had endowed him and Nikki with the power to "see" the future perhaps hadn't realized what a "painful sight" such ability was. With knowledge comes responsibility as any learned philosopher might argue. The advance knowledge of impending disaster, of lives teetering on the brink of injury or death, suggests a responsibility to save those lives. Yet, just as there are no lessons in how to be a hero, there is similarly no instruction on how to cope with failure especially when that failure resulted in the loss of life. The astute argument of the spirit of Lucius Snow to "count the living not the dead" had been a buoy tossed to a man whose battered body and mind had convinced him that death was what he had coming. He had been a man who had embraced guilt as if it were a friend that told him the truth regardless of how painful it was for him to hear it. If only he had done things differently then Jeremiah and Earl would still be alive.
But sitting in this church, in a pew next to her, he knew that this moment wasn't about him. It was about her, about helping her to view her "sight" as a blessing not a curse, and about showing her how to "count the living not the dead." It was about helping her to realize that she was truly gifted. And finally, it was about helping her to forgive herself so that she would be able to move on. How hard it must be for a child to shoulder such weighty issues as life and death. He had lived with his "sight" for over three years now and sometimes it was difficult for him to remember what life was like before he got the Paper. And even after three years, the ingratitude of some of the people that he saved still bothered him. The looks and the comments from people who considered him a nut still bothered him. Even as he tried to convince himself that the words were from unenlightened individuals who found comfort in their snap judgments maybe as a need to make them feel important. But that didn't mean that their remarks didn't hurt. However, for Nikki, the ridicule was worse. Her "sight" had rendered her an outcast among her peers. She was someone to laugh at and to hurl disparaging words. When they looked at her, they saw a freak. Even more tragic was that when she looked at herself, she saw the same thing.
The church welcomed two misunderstood souls into her bosom. Unlike Marissa, he hadn't really been a proponent of the power of Faith. But somehow he would be able to find the words to help her.
She looked at him as a realization washed over her. "The school bus. You can see things, too."
"Not exactly." He replied.
"But you know. When something bad is going to happen, you know." She probed.
"Sometimes."
"Only you can fix it."
"No, not always. Look, I couldn't have stopped your father any more than you could have. I'm sorry."
"But they were my parents." She said, her voice choked with emotion.
"Look, Nikki. Sometimes no matter how hard you try, no matter how much you know, you can't make things come out the way you want them to. You got to understand that."
"I'm trying."
"Yes, you are. Look, knowing what's going to happen before it happens...Nikki, it's a big responsibility."
"I didn't ask for it."
"And neither did I, but you can't run away from it. I've tried. I know that. Please believe me. You can look at this thing as a curse, and that's exactly what it's going to be, a curse. But if you can look at it as a gift, if you can look at it as a way of helping people and changing people's lives, well, then it's a blessing. At least, that's what I found. It just takes a little while getting used to."
"You really think that I'm a good kid?"
"Yeah, I think that you're a good kid."
He hugged her. Against the backdrop of the church and the sound of a cat's meow, two special people who had endured "painful sight" found a kinship in each other. And perhaps their acceptance of this sight as a blessing not a curse would help them find that wonderful quality of forgiveness, learning how to forgive themselves.
Perhaps now the pain could go away.
The End.