Broken Night

The flames licked up Claire's legs, fire shooting out of her pale hands, fire surrounding her before I could get there. Her piercing screams splitting the air in two, and for the longest moment of my life, I couldn't get to her fast enough.

I rounded the burning cafeteria tables and reached out to help her, but only finding a pile of ash in the place she last occupied.

There was no way she was gone. She just got away, right?

An overwhelming feeling of helplessness sat heavy in my chest as I continued to search for her.

The sight flashed over and over in my mind and no matter where I was or what I was doing, my dream was still hauntingly fresh.

“Suthard! What is it?” I finally snapped out of my trance and was greeted by my ticked off history teacher.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know, Mrs. Kirkwood.” I blurted, not even knowing the question.

“You don’t know why the American Civil war started?” She asked, dumbfounded as the rest of the class burst into a mass of giggles.

I didn’t want her to catch on my dozing again, so I hung my head low and mumbled, “No.”

Mrs. Kirkwood seemed to buy it, “Alright then, let’s hope your friend here can help you. Ms. Bound, what is it?”

My best friend tore her gaze from me to the teacher and told her, “because of slavery.” When Claire replied, she turned back to me and mouthed, ‘are you okay?’

With a quick nod, I turned back to our teacher and tried to focus on what she was saying, but my mind kept drifting back to this dream I had.

The bell snapped my attention back into the present and I scurried all my belongings back into my backpack. I flung it onto my shoulder and looked up to find Claire waiting for me by the door.

I hurried to catch up with her, the whole time avoiding eye contact with my flustered teacher, who was watching me intently. I finally reached the door and rushed Claire into the hallway.

We made our way to my locker, like we always did after sixth period, with Claire shooting me worried looks all the way there.

When we made it to my locker, Claire finally demanded, “Alright, spill it.”

I tried to shake her off, still knowing it wouldn’t happen.

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, please. Don’t play this with me. I saw how distant you were in class. You were practically drooling. What’s going on in that mind of yours?”

I tried not to make it sound too creepy. “I haven’t been sleeping too well lately.”

She stared blandly at me for a second before her mouth dropped open and stayed that way until I finished placing my history book in my locker.

She finally spoke after what seemed like forever, but it came out as a small whisper, “Shut-up! You had another dream! Like the other mojo one? What happened?” She demanded.

I faced her full on after I shut my locker. “Nothing really. This one was really stupid and I doubt it would ever happen like my ‘mojo ones’.” I let some sarcasm seep into my voice at the end of the sentence.

“Yeah, but if it’s not a stupid one, it could mean something or tell the future like your last ones. Tell me!” She begged.

A year ago, I told her I had a dream about her current boyfriend, Brody, getting mugged in an alleyway behind the old bookstore. I had never told anybody besides my brother, and I was surprised when she believed that I have these kind of psychic dreams that can tell the future.