Premonition

Bombs flying everywhere. Destruction. Madness. People were screaming, crying; hearts and souls being metaphorically ripped to shreds. Blood was spilling – too much blood. Families destroyed, lovers torn, ripped apart. People calling names . . . ‘Ayan, Ayan -’
"Ayan Alucard!” My head jerked up. It was another dream, premonition.
I looked up at the teacher, Ms. Halloway, but gave no other sign that I heard her. She was on the young side, but tremendously stern. It was almost an unspoken rule to never cross her. Though I never was one for the rules.
“Mr. Alucard,” she began in a tone that promised punishment. “Do you believe yourself above everyone else? Is that why you feel you’re exceptional enough to sleep through my class?”
Would you leave me alone if I said yes? I mused to myself, chuckling inwardly. Of course she wouldn’t. I replied with the answer that would get the woman out of my hair: “No.” I wasn’t in the mood for a conflict.
I tuned out her rambling after that, nodding my head when it seemed she needed an answer. She eventually went back to teaching the class about some extremely important aspect of Geometry, not that anyone was listening. The students were reading novels, texting, passing notes, doodling – doing what teenagers do.
Desperation abruptly drove me into a chokehold. How could these people be so ignorant? People laugh at global warming, shrug off wars, ignore the deaths of thousands. How can they sit here and not see that they’re slowly killing themselves?
My thoughts began to flow back to the vision I’d had earlier, the death and destruction. The visions themselves, I am used to. I have them quite often, mostly when I am sleeping or drowsy. What was in the visions always bothered me. I can’t remember the last time I slept properly, what with all of the visions constantly haunting me. I’d tried to fix them when I was younger, but I now know they are just inevitable. That doesn’t mean I have to like them.
How could humanity just die off without anyone doing anything? The adults that are supposed to be teaching us and preparing us for the future are consumed by their greed. Teachers are all for getting testing up for money, no matter how many gifted kids are pulled behind. Politicians are doing ‘all they can’ to help world hunger, homeless, tsunami relief, wars . . . and yet they find themselves the money to buy flashy new BMW’s with raised taxes. The world is dying.
And here I am, having to watch it.
The bell rung. I picked up my bag and slouched out of the room. I was the first one out; everyone else was packing up their notes. I never took notes, though.
I walked down the hall; English next. Tyler Coltin stepped out of a classroom towards my left, his lap dogs following right behind him. Coltin was seen as the best in the school – no questions asked. He was also something of a bully.
“Hey freak,” Coltin began his jeering. He couldn’t pass a day without insulting me once. Believe me; I tested it at one point. “Have any visions today?” He mocked. His taunts were becoming a bit too rudimentary. I’d heard this one a week or so ago. “Guess what, freak?” he began walking the hall next to me as if we were friends. His face showed otherwise. “I figured out why you’re so emo – you have no future!” Like I said, his insults were offending himself more than me.
He noticed that his words did nothing, and he began to get angry. I was used to this by now. It had almost become a habit. If he stopped, there was a possibility that I might even miss it. Maybe.
A fist flew in my direction and I was so completely shocked that all I could do was stand and gape. It came into contact with my face and my body was flung to the floor. My jaw had been dislocated and I winced. It snapped into place with a painful pop. Coltin pulled me up by the shirt but before I could do anything, Ms. Halloway rushed down the hall. She pulled Coltin away and my back once again hit the floor. Students that had been around the flight flocked to watch Coltin get lectured.
I saw a shadow of a student over me. I looked up, almost blinded by the fluorescent lights, so see a girl, Rebecca Martins to be exact. Though, she won’t let anyone call her anything aside from Becka. What was the school’s resident bookworm doing above me?
She held out a hand.
I took it. And suddenly a new vision hit me.
Sunlight. Laughter. Love. Children. Parents.
“Ayan, honey can you go get our daughter? She’s causing trouble again . . .”
“Daddy!” Giggling. Laughter.
Love.
Perhaps the future wasn’t set in stone. Perhaps that was a good thing. For once in my life, I stood up with a smile, looking forward to the future.

Fin.
_______________________________________


So what do you think?
I want as much criticism as possible. Throw it at me.