Disturbed Lincoln

5

     My father got me a small hourglass only about three inches tall. It was an old-fashioned wooden one with sand from Cancún. It was a trinket my dad brought back after a work trip, and honestly, it's the thing I stare at the most inside my room. Watching time go by somehow makes it slower, but I'm trying to train myself to allow time to "fly" despite my full awareness being on that miniature timepiece. I want time to go by when I'm bored as fast as it does for those who have intense fun. Here I was, staring at a stupid hourglass, and trying to keep my mind empty. A knock on the door ripped me from my concentration and instantly I was thrown back into the world around me, going right back to my racing thoughts.

     It's Saturday, and to recap, yesterday I was used like a tool. I didn't appreciate it whatsoever, and whoever it was knocking on the door, it better not be any of those three. I pulled open the door and my eyes saw Stella in a purple hoodie. "May I come in?" she asks. "How the hell do you know where I live?" She shined a mischievous smile. "Clyde told me. He said you'd probably be less anxious if it was just the two of us." Not wanting her in my house, I was about to ask her to leave, incidentally however, my mother happened to walk by behind me and spotted the "poor girl" who was standing outside. "Lincoln, is that your friend? How could you leave her outside like that? Honey, come in, please, it's too cold out. Make yourself at home, too! I've got lasagna in the oven and it'll be ready in just a few."

     She ended her spiel with a wink, which translated "Have fun with your girlfriend." I wanted to clarify that she was not close to me in any way but Mom was already off to the kitchen. Stella asked where my room was and I led her there, with every cell inside of me saying "Don't do it, you fool." When we got to my room's unassuming entrance, she yanked it open and pulled me inside, shutting the door behind us. "What do you think you're doing?!" I hissed. "Don't you ever touch me! Ever! Are you listening?" She reached into her pocket and took out a small diamond earring. "I have been waiting years to meet someone like you." I then repeated in confusion, "People like me?" She nodded fervently. "A prophet."

My whole body moved, putting my hands on my hips, I turned behind me and did a double take. I practically couldn't get a word out past the prodigious confusion and incredulity that slapped me across the face. "A prophet? Are you serious right now? God, is this a repeat of yesterday? You want me to hold that earring and then tell you what I see? Do you even hear yourself? I mean-" She cut me off with a solemn request. "Just do it." She didn't say it sarcastically, no, she sounded serious. "Plus, it's not fair you did Rusty's and not mine." I sighed, "Whatever, but after this, you NEVER come to my house uninvited ever again, understand?" I can't believe I let her talk me into this nonsense. I refuse to believe I have "powers" and yes, I admit the fact that I guessed those two cards Clyde held up and also saw that number three on Rusty's photograph is... quite a coincidence. It's possible, though! Maybe my head just wanted to pretend I knew the answers by having me hallucinate weird stuff like it always does. That's surely possible.

She dropped the earring in my palm and I began to see another hallucination. This time it was very different. No numbers or symbols were appearing, not even a sentence or scene. Looking up, I saw a man behind Stella. It startled me and I stumbled back against the wall. He was staggeringly tall, had black shaggy hair, a thick black jacket, black jeans, black eyes, and a hideous sharp grimace. His teeth were pointed like a monster's and I could almost swear I saw horns sprouting from the back of his head. The more I marveled, the more details that came, or rather, the more was added to his appearance. I thought at first that it was just the shadows cast by his obscuring clothing, but it seemed that his skin was naturally the color of obsidian. The scariest part was when I looked into his eyes, it was like nothing stared back, and the more I searched those black circles, the more his head contorted into the shape of something inhuman. Something animalistic.

Then the man faded away, shrinking into the shadows around my room, including me and Stella's. I felt another panic attack coming on so I slowed my breathing. I repeated my mantra, even if it didn't seem proportionate to the situation, it helped. "You dealt with yesterday and you can deal with today." I closed my eyes and focused on the air going in and the air coming out. My muscles relented in their convulsing and I opened my eyes to a worrisome Stella. "What did you see?" I forgot she was there, and I had to take a second to piece together an explanation. "There was a guy, super tall, all black—black skin, black clothing, black eyes—and he might've had horns? I don't know what's wrong with your earring, but you should think about scrapping it."

I didn't notice a reaction because I was so bemused by what I'd just seen, but after she began to sob, I stood around awkwardly, searching for a tissue to give her. I found one in my drawer and offered it to her. She took it and rubbed her eyes. "Sorry... Thank you for doing it again. It's my sister's earring. She was taken a few months ago. The police say she's probably..." Her words lost confidence and weakened into silence. "I don't believe it, though!" she shouted. "I know she's still out there! And that thing you saw... that must be who took her!" She scrambled around my room and found a paper and pencil in my drawer. "Here, please, draw what he looked like. If I know what he looks like then I at least have a chance." She kept insisting and sobbed harder the more I hesitated. "Please... I need to find her, Lincoln. What you saw could be a sign that she's still alive and still waiting to be saved! She's probably so scared and alone."

I felt so awkward being near someone this vulnerable. I took the paper and pencil out of sympathy and drew the man in as much detail as I could. I pressed harshly in darker areas and scribbled in areas where my memory didn't serve me very well. "Here," I said handing the drawing to her. "Know that just because I saw something doesn't make it real, Stella. I mean it." She sniffled and gently took it from me. "It's okay. This is all the proof I needed. You have different eyes than the rest of us. You should use them to your advantage." She left, gripping that drawing tightly and gazing at it with a sentimental gaze. Everything felt so surreal I just had to whisper to myself, "What just happened?"