Saturday, 10 January 2015

The Storm Named Nina

Dark thoughts pop into my head all the time.  Visions of morbid, violent, gruesome events. Horrific, devastating. All the time.
I used to write. I wrote stories with fictional characters, experiencing fictional atrocities. But that was a bit like being a doctor, who happens upon a severely damaged body, a person. The doctor examines the body, in depth, to find out exactly how horrific the damages are, then she must write a report, in great detail, on the extent of the damages.

Many years ago I decided that I no longer wanted to be a doctor. I wanted to be a florist or a baker. I wanted to start watching romantic comedies and listening to Lifehouse. The morbid thoughts still pop into my head, but they pass just as quickly as they appear. The why and what of them no longer need to be examined.

Today, a storm is raging around us. The time now is 12:34, the storm will peak at 14:00 and last five to six hours. It is already one of the most severe storms I have ever experienced. Kenneth is in the next town. He has to drive 27 kilometres home, at around 14:00 hours. The oil rigs have been evactuated, flights postponed, ships moored securly in the docks. The local council has issued a warning to secure all loose items and be prepared for "extreme weather".

Despite the visions of his car being blown off the road and into a fjord, I know that Kenneth will get home safe and sound. Because, along with the curse of the dark visions, I have inherited a sixth sense, which was passed down to me through my mother side of the family. My aunt has it, too. This gift manifests itself with a feeling. When a dark thought pops into my head, I feel it. I feel it as though it actually happened in that moment. Then it becomes something else entirely. Then I phone my daughter at 6AM and tell her that she has to promise that she will stay indoors all day. Or ask her, for my sake, to not get on the plane.

So, although the storm is fierce, we will all emerge from it unscathed.

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