Pittie, They're Not The Only Ones I Want Protection From

Updated on May 30, 2019

Test Out My Theory

"Can we stop somewhere to buy some gloves on the way home, Dad?" I asked as we got into the car.

"Summer is right around the corner. It's hardly gloving weather, Pumpkin."

"I know. Just humor me," I told him with my sweetest Daddy's little girl grin.

Pulling into the local mall, he handed me a twenty dollar bill. "Make it fast. Your mother won't want dinner getting cold," I reached for the bill.

Suddenly, I got a flash of two guys. One guy stabbed the other and then took the money from his pockets. I think this twenty was one of the bills. Dad was putting his wallet away, and the flash was quick, I don't think he noticed. I quickly jumped from the car before I drew his attention.

They told me in the hospital I have these strange almost seizure like looks on my face when I have these flashes. The doctor quickly explained it away as brain damage. His drugs were the solution he gave us, but they don't work. (Never understood why doctors, parents, teachers seem to be so determined they know better. I hope I don't turn into that when I have kids.)

I really do want these visions to stop, or at least learn to control them. I'm hoping gloves are the answer. When I had the gloves on and I was focused on cleaning, everyone disappeared.

Going to the purse and bag section, I found gloves on clearance. A tan leather pair stood out. Trying them on, they were barely noticeable. They closely resembled my skin tone and fit tightly. On clearance for five dollars, I grabbed the last two pairs they had. Leaving one set on my hands, the girl at the register looked at me strangely when I handed her the tag for the second pair, but she rang them up without question.

"Are your hands warmer now?" he asked as I handed him his change.

"We'll see," I said as I buckled my seat belt. "We better get going," I encouraged hoping the discussion could end there. Leaving it alone, he began to drive away.

Guess that is one good thing about being "crazy", Pittie. No one asks you why you want to wear gloves nearly seventy-degree weather. At least my Dad didn't, Mama, on the other hand, had plenty to say. "It looks peculiar", "it draws attention", "people will think your odd" were some of her favorites. Funny, never once did either of them really ask why I started wearing gloves all the time. I guess they just figured it was an eccentricity they had deal with.

They worked, not all the time, but it cut down on the flashes. I started to realize that the flashes came when I touched things. It was never nice moments. Not once did I see something that made me smile. It was always horrible, terrifying, and painful visions. It was like the bad stuff in the world caused a permanent stain, and the good just washed away. I still get them sometimes if I bump into things, but it has taught me to be more careful.

The gloves didn't stop me from seeing them, however. The people themselves. I grew to learn that barrier was in my head. If you try hard enough your mind can shut off certain things. Something like a buzzing sound just blending into the background, or a friend babbling on about something you don't care about. Same concept with the dead people. If I focus hard enough on something else, I can not see them anymore. That's really hard to do, but I am working on it. Usually, I try to focus on my breathing and slowing my heart rate down.

Still Don't Get Why I Ran Away?

I know what you're thinking so far. They have my best interest at heart, and I was a fool to run away, right? They were just trying to take care of me. Well, we're finally there, Pittie. Hold on to your spiral notebook (or your memory chip now that we're online).

That Sunday we went to church as usual. I was completely dreading it. I felt sure the ghosts were all going to be there again. I had been practicing with Evil Bitch Ruby for a couple of days. (That's her new name.) I was starting to get better at turning her off. She was always there obsessing over every little thing. I think the only way I will ever find peace is to tell her to go to hell. Hard to do with someone around all the time. I wonder if her presence affects Mama? She does seem more on edge when Evil Bitch is close and chattering in her ear.

Church was just what I expected. People I had long forgotten and others I never knew wandered in with their families and friends. I still haven't figured out why there are so many at church. Could it be the graveyard? Are they usually anchored to their remains? Maybe, one day I will get brave enough to ask one of them.

Services went on as usual. I focused on Dad and the choir and didn't pay any attention to the congregation or their guests. (Evil Bitch Ruby didn't come to church. Maybe she was afraid of the sacred ground. lol) Song, song, prayer, song, and then Dad started his sermon. (That's was when the entire foundation of my world crumbled beneath my feet.) He started to tell them about my new found gift from God. The lord had great plans for me, and he hoped I would feel brave enough to share a message with them today. Every eye in the room was on me, both living and dead. (Shut the fuck up! I was screaming over and over in my head.)

"Has your father lost his mind?" my mother said in a whisper from beside me. For once I completely agreed with her.

I shook my head no to my father, who was beaming with a broad smile and outstretched hand for me to come up. Once he realized it wasn't happening, he continued to talk about the gifts that God gives each and every one of us. How those gifts should not be wasted or ignored. Meanwhile, I did my best to shrink down into the crack between my mother and the pew. The dead started making their way toward me. Even though my eyes were closed, I knew each and every one of them was there.

Thank for reading, and if you are enjoying follow me for notifications of future pages to the story. Feel free to share with a friend (or an enemy, whatever).

Thanks again,


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    © 2019 Faron Asher


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