Friday, February 23, 2007


Upon arriving at the police station, the driver promptly opened the door for me.

“That’ll be fourteen seventy-five please ma’m.” He said helping me out of the cab. I opened my purse and felt around for my wallet. The one good thing about my blindness, I was a lot more organized. I pulled a bill with one corner folded over out of my wallet.

“Here’s a twenty.” I held the bill out for the driver. “Keep the change.” I folded each denomination of my bills differently. Fives were folded in half, tens were folded in half the long way, and twenties had one corner folded over.

“Thank you ma’m, you have yourself a good day.”

“You as well.” I slid my wallet back into my purse and unfolded my cane with a snap. It was one of those telescoping ones. All I had to do was push a small button on the handle and flick my wrist. I had gotten quite good at it, and did it with a dramatic flare. I turned and with my cane clicking softly on the pavement walked into the building.

The building was filled with a clambering of noises. Ringing phones raised voices, squawking radios, and the soft murmuring and whispering of back ground noises. I had been to the police station before, so I knew it was exactly seven steps in to the reception desk. I covered the distance with confident steps and stood in front of the desk. The noise level behind me gradually dropped to a hushed whisper punctuated randomly by the unanswered ring of a phone.

“Is Detective Rawly in yet?” I asked, fully aware of the dimming noise around me.

“Yes ma’m he is. May I get your name, so I can tell him who’s calling?” The receptionist had a slight accent which I couldn’t place. Either South Africa , or England , they were pretty hard to distinguish sometimes.

“Just tell him his pet psychic is here, he’ll know who I am.”

“A-alright miss.” She sounded unsure. She picked up her phone and I heard her almost whisper, “Detective Rawly? Your uh-your pet psychic is here to see you. Alright sir.” I heard the phone clatter back into its cradle. “He’ll be right with you.”

“Thank you.” I turned and with cane tapping lightly on the floor I made my way to the waiting area chairs. If I knew Nate, “right with you” meant at least a five or ten minute wait. I sat and listened as the noise level slowly increased around me, until it was full blast once more. I could feel everyone’s eyes on me though. I felt them slide over me as if it were a physical touch. The sensation made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I concentrated hard keeping their inquisitive glances out of my mind. I was also shielding extra hard too. I had to protect my poor mind some how. I had learned how to shield my senses and my psyche from the out side world as a survival instinct. I didn’t notice when I was shielding now, it had become so familiar to me. But today, I seemed sensitive to everything around me.

True to his nature, Nate kept me waiting for fifteen minutes. When he finally came out I was almost vibrating with unease and anxiety. Nate must have taken one look at me and known what was wrong.

“Oh Jade, I’m sorry to keep you waiting out here. I had a perp in my office causing trouble. I don’t think you’d want to be around him. Even I got weird vibes off of him.” He was standing off to my left blocking some of the office noise. He didn’t try to touch me. I had him trained well. “Come on back to my office.”

I stood and walked behind him, cane swinging back and forth to warn me of any obstacles in my path. We made it to his office without any mishaps, although as I walked through the main bull pen I was followed by the ripple of whispers.

“Jade, this is Patrick, he is our sketch artist.” Nate introduced me to the man.

"Good Morning Jade, how are you today?” Patrick asked; he must have extended his hand for a hand shake because I heard Nate whisper to him that I didn’t like to be touched because of my gift.

“It’s alright Nate.” I said. I extended my own hand. It was the best way for me to get to know him. I was a little nervous; I felt my palm growing damp with sweat. Patrick gripped my hand and I saw him. He was tall, and blond. A real pretty, artsy type of boy. Hair a little shorter than shoulder length bangs constantly in his eyes. His eyes were green, a startling cats eye green. I saw him sketching, his hands quick and sure. His finished works was amazing. I didn’t know why he was working for the police, he had such great potential, but he also liked helping people. I quickly let go of his hand before I got too much of a deep reading. That was the other thing I could do with my gift. Instead of seeing a person’s inner most secrets and desires I could push it out and see them. It was something new I had discovered almost by accident. This was the first time I had been in complete control of it. When I had tried it before, with safe objects at home, it had been harder to push it out, so I could see it from the outside. Usually I saw it from the perspective of whom ever saw it last. Or if it was a person I was reading I saw things through their eyes.

“Well Patrick, It’s nice to meet you.” I said resisting the urge to wipe my hand on my jeans. It was a bad habit I had picked up, after getting a reading I always had a lingering sense of them on my hand, it kinda creeped me out, but it was rude to wipe your hand off after you touch someone, makes them feel vile. Don’t want to upset the natives and all.

“It’s nice to meet you too Jade, I’ve heard a lot about you.” Patrick said. He had a very dreamy sounding voice. Very soothing, calm and mellow. He seemed like a laid back kind of guy.

“I’m sure you have.” I quirked an eyebrow in Nate’s direction.

“Right over here Jade, you can sit in my chair. I have some other things to take care of, so I will leave you in the capable hands of Patrick here. Ok?”

“Yup, I’m sure we’ll be fine.” I walked cautiously over towards the sound of Nate’s voice. When my knees bumped into his chair, I turned and sat down. Nate patted my shoulder quickly and then walked out. He seemed anxious, but that could have just been the job.

After the door closed Patrick said, “Alright, let’s get started.” I heard him flipping some pages in his sketch book, and sharpening his pencil. The smell of pencil shavings reminded me of school.

“Alright.” I closed my eyes, and pictured his face. Yes I realize the irony behind that, being as I am blind, I don’t need to close my eyes, but it was a natural instinct. “He had roundish eyes, lots of lashes. Dark hair, a little longer, a conservative hair cut. Not spiked, it’s too long for that, but parted slightly to the left.” I heard his pencil scratching madly at the pad. “Clean shaven, except for the small soul patch under his lip. Very triangular shaped.” I paused and waited a little for him to get all of that in. “He had nice lips, a cupids bow, not really big, but not thin either.” I continued. “His face is fairly square, with a very chiseled jaw. Very pronounced jaw bones. He had very nice eyebrows, not really bushy, but not thin either. Groomed, they were groomed. His nose was a little pointy, the bridge a little crooked, like it had been broken and not set strait. He also had a scar on the bridge of his nose, and one on his right eyebrow, near the tail end of it.” Patrick had stayed pretty quiet throughout the whole process, letting me talk it out.

Now as he finished the sketch he said, “I’m not to sure how you can confirm if this sketch is correct. I’ve actually never dealt with a blind witness.”

“I’m not a witness.” I stated, “I’m a clairvoyant.”

“Okay, and what exactly is an clairvoyant?” He asked. I could hear the skepticism in his voice.

“When I touch things I can see their past and sometimes their future.” My voice sounded tired, even to me.

“Right. But you’re blind,” he continued. “I don’t understand how you can see if you are blind.”

“I don’t see it with my eyes, I see it with my mind. It’s kind of like a memory, or a day dream.”

“Alright so how are you going to be able to tell if this sketch is accurate?”

“Just give it to me.” I held out my hand in his general direction. When I felt the weight of his sketch pad in my hand I thanked him. I set the book on my lap and touched the top page. Nothing came to me for a moment, so I concentrated harder and pushed my “power” into the page. It came to me then, in grays and blacks. He was an amazing artist. The sketch depicted the man I had seen almost perfectly. He had captured the intensity in his eyes, and the mouth beautifully. “His hair is too short,” I said running my fingers over the drawing. “Just bring it down to the tops of his ears. And the scar on his right eyebrow is a little off. It’s more oval shaped, a little longer, and at more of an angle, almost cutting the brow in two.” I handed him back the pad.

“H-how did you do that?”

“I told you I am a clairvoyant. I saw it in my mind. You are an amazing artist, by the way.” I folded my hands on my stomach, leaned back in the chair and put my feet on the desk.

“Thanks.” His pencil started scratching away again and I closed my eyes. I scooted a little lower in my chair and leaned my head back. Nate’s office was quiet and warm, and I was tired. I began to drift off a little. I was just on the very edge of sleep when Patrick exclaimed, “Jesus!”

“What? What is it?” I sat bolt up in my chair, my feet coming to the floor with a thump.

“This guy looks just like Nate, only he doesn’t have a scar on his nose, and Nate wears glasses.”

Thursday, January 25, 2007

And Thickens...

“I’m ok Nate, I was just reliving the horrors that this wedding ring had seen.” I held out the ring and he took it back, I heard it slid back into the bag. His finger brushed mine for a brief moment and I felt fear and guilt, almost overwhelming me. I reached for my coffee cup, a little awkwardly, feeling around the table for it. After a vision I was usually a little disorientated and shaky.
“What did you see?” I could tell Nate was on the edge of his seat, almost as if I could see him.
“Well, this was her wedding ring, I saw blood, a knife, and his face.” I was glad to have my hands wrapped around my warm mug. It kept them from shaking. I took a sip of the blessed hot liquid, reveling in the warmth that spread through my body. I hadn’t realized that the chill that had settled in my bones was from the vision.
“You saw him? The killer, you saw his face?” Nate was radiating panic, and I couldn’t understand why.
“Well I assume it was him, he was stabbing the owner of that ring. Nate, are you alright? You seem, anxious.” I tried putting it gently; I didn’t want him to get offended. He didn’t like that I could read his emotions so well without actually seeing him. It spooked him; actually it spooked a lot of people.
“Yeah, fine. I’m fine. I’m just glad that we may finally be getting a break.” Nate began to get a handle on his emotions. I felt him struggling to get them back under control. He was usually more laid back than this. Something was up. “Could you describe him to a sketch artist?” It was back to business now that he had a tighter reign on his control.
“Yes, but I didn’t think the police were willing to work with me anymore.”
“I think they will be willing to make an exception, besides if we break this case, we will both be cleared.” He seemed relieved.
“Alright, I’ll come down to the station first thing in the morning. In the mean time, go home Nate, you feel tired.”
“Yeah, I think you’re right. Thanks again Jade.” He stood up. I heard him walk into the kitchen and set his coffee cup in the sink. I sat in my chair, drinking my cooling coffee, thinking. There was something different about Nate tonight. He seemed more nervous, antsier, less like the laid back man I knew. Although this case had to be bothering him, it was a doozy, it was. He walked back towards me.
“Thanks! I’ll see you in the morning Jade. Sleep well.”
“Mm hmm. You too Nate, drive careful.”
“Did you want me to pick you up in the morning?”
“No, I think I’ll be ok, I’ll call a cab or something. Good night Nate.” I stood and walked towards the door.
“Alright, see you tomorrow then.” I heard the door open, then close behind him. I locked the deadbolt and sighed. I was really tired. Visions usually took a lot out of me, but Nate seemed to be giving off a high frequency buzz. I guess I was more susceptible to it, being that I was clairvoyant. But it seemed to drain me more so than usual. Sighing I carried my still half full and cold coffee to the kitchen, dumped it down the drain, and wandered up to bed.
The next morning came too early, but I had promised Nate, and it’s better to do it fresh. So I got up and showered, then called a taxi. I was dressed and ready, sitting at my kitchen table when the phone rang. I groped along the wall for the phone. When my fingers felt the familiar smoothness of the receiver it had rung four times already.
“Good morning, this is your taxi; we are waiting out front of your house.”
“Oh, I’ll be right out.” I hung up and hurried to the door. I slipped on my shoes and grabbed my jacket. My keys were hanging beside the door just like always; I plucked them off their hook, grabbed my folding white cane and stepped out into the crisp autumn air. After locking the door and unfolding my cane, I heard a car door open.
“Oh, let me help you m’am.” The voice had a slight southern drawl, like the voice on the phone. I heard him hurry up the sidewalk towards me, and I slipped my sunglasses on smiling.
“Thank you.” He guided me down to the car by my elbow. He opened the door for me and I slid in. He closed my door and a few seconds later I heard his door open, and the soft sigh of fabric against fabric as he slid into his seat. He closed his door and asked, “Where to miss?”
“The police station please.”

Friday, January 19, 2007

The plot really does thicken...

“I know you don’t like to Jade, and I am grateful.” I heard the soft crinkling of a plastic bag. I took a few deep breaths, trying to calm my racing pulse. I half hoped that I wouldn’t get a reading off of whatever it was he was going to hand me. I knew it was small, because he had carried it in on his person, probably in one of his pockets. “Are you ready?”
I swallowed hard and nodded. I felt him kneel in front of me. I cupped my hands in my lap. He knew the drill, he had to drop it into my hands, he could not be holding it too or I could get mixed messages. I’d get his impressions too. Unfortunately I had learned that the hard way. I was still feeling the repercussions from that. It was a few years ago, working on a kidnapping case. They had one man in custody; one man who Nate was positive was guilty. They had given me the little girl’s doll, Nate had handed it to me personally. The vision that I had gotten off of it had been more chaotic than usual, and it had implicated the accused. They had found some evidence that had been overlooked at the time, and it cleared the man that Nate and I had condemned. Well you can imagine how well that went over with the police. Most of them were a little skeptic to begin with, now…most of them won’t use a psychic, and they don’t believe me anymore. So Nate and I keep our meetings like this a secret. Everyone in the department knows that we are friends, but they don’t know that I still help him with tough cases.
It was warm to the touch. Smooth, small, some sort of metal. Round, probably a wedding or engagement ring. I let it sit in my palm, felt its significance grow. It seemed to grow heavier, warmer. I ran my finger round the circle, and I could see. A small silver wedding band. A hand, a smile, sliding smoothly over knuckles. Thick, hot, sticky liquid. Seeing through a haze of red. A falling star, streaking pain, a fresh hot spattering of red rain. I can hear the rain, splattering on the walls. It tastes like pennies, smooth and coppery. It tastes like home. I see his face then, through the haze of panic. Someone was screaming, and that someone was me.
“Jade, are you ok?” Nate was shaking me gently. I had a flash of the crime scene, police men, crime tape, two dead bodies and lots of blood, splashed on the walls, soaked into the mattress, dripping onto the floor. I felt such uncontrollable rage and helplessness, I knew then why Nate had come to me for help.
“Nate, don’t touch me.” I had gotten his impressions from the crime; I had seen it through his eyes. I didn’t need to see anymore blood and bodies. His hands left almost the instant I spoke.
“I’m sorry Jade, I forgot. You were screaming and I was worried.” Nate was one of those guys who felt obligated to help the damsels in distress. I may look like a damsel, but I was defiantly not in distress. I was one of the most independent people I know. My mom always had a problem with my independence while I was growing up. I think that my blindness played a big part in my independence. When I first started going blind I wallowed in self pity a lot of the time. I refused to learn Braille, convincing myself that it was only temporary. By the time I was fully blind I was almost completely helpless. My mom basically did everything for me. That was when I realized that I was blind, and I wasn’t going to see again. I think that lit a fire under my ass, because from that day on I was very independent, I wouldn’t let my mom help me; with anything. I learned Braille, I did my own laundry, and I started to cook for myself, which was a little harder than you’d think. Especially when I was trying to add spices. It took me a long time to label them all correctly. I had some strange tasting food for a while. I could discern most tastes and smells, but some of them were a little tricky; and I refused to let my mom help me unless it was absolutely necessary. She didn’t take to that too well. And then when I got a job, got my own place and moved out, she freaked. She still calls me every day to make sure I’m ok. I was twenty when I moved out, that was six years ago. I enrolled in collage and got a degree in psychology, hoping that it would further my understanding of my visions. Luckily for me the government paid for most of my schooling. Now I am an over qualified receptionist for a psychologists office down town. I make more money off of my “gift” than I do at work. Yes the police paid me, for services rendered; I used to be on retainer with them, until my very public mishap. Now I do favors for Nate.

Friday, January 12, 2007

This is a little idea I am tossing around my I figured I'd post it as a "Story Blog"

I haven’t always been blind. I was diagnosed with ‘Retinitis Pigmentosa’ at age twelve, and it progressed to full blindness by age seventeen. It was a rapid case; most people diagnosed with this disease aren’t fully blind until well into their twenties. I guess I was special.
I miss seeing colour the most. Although I dream in colour, and I “see” in colour, I still miss the vibrancy and startling contrasts. How can I possibly see, if I’m blind you ask? I don’t see in the conventional sense. I am a clairvoyant. I have visions. Sometimes it is triggered by an object that I am holding; sometimes a strong feeling from another person can give me a vision as well. I cannot control when or if I have a vision. They come and go. When I first started having them I thought they were bad dreams, nightmares. There were some murders at a near by collage and I had what I thought were nightmares. That was until I saw a girl he hadn’t abducted yet; his next victim. Unfortunately I realized it too late.
When I have visions now, I go to the police; if it’s probative. They didn’t always used to trust me. They always say that murder brings the crazies out of the woodworks. And they always assumed that I was one of the crazies. Visions tend to be very chaotic and disjointed. They can be very confusing and even worse when you are trying to explain them to a skeptic. Now I have the support of a few detectives who actually bring me pieces of evidence in hopes that I can help.
So here I find myself, sitting in my living room at half past eleven at night with Detective Nathan Rawly, waiting for the coffee to brew. My Seeing Eye dog, Hermes, was sitting obediently at my feet.
“Thanks for seeing me so late Jade.”
“No problem Nate, you are always welcome in my home.”
“Yeah, unfortunately this isn’t a social visit.” Sighing he shifted in his seat a little uncomfortably. I could hear him running his tie through his fingers, it was a nervous tic. This case had to be a pretty bad one if he was this nervous.
“Nate,” I caught his wandering hands in my own. “It’ll be ok. You’ll get him.” I gave his hand a reassuring squeeze before letting it go. “I’ll go get the coffee.”
I stood and walked confidently into my small kitchen. I could tell the coffee was finished by the smell. I stood in front of the coffee pot and took two steps left, then opened the cupboard. I felt for the mugs and pulled two down. I set the coffee pot lip on the rim of the mug and kept my thumb bent over the top, so I wouldn’t overflow the cup. I expertly poured two cups of coffee, added copious amounts of cream and sugar to Nates and only a little honey to mine then wandered back into the living room. Nate had resumed the nervous stroking of his tie.
I held out the coffee to Nate, he took it, being careful not to touch me. He knew I didn’t like to be touched. It could bring on a vision, and I didn’t need to see what he had been doing tonight. “So Nate, tell me, what brings you around here so late?”
“Well, I am sure you have heard on the news about the unsolved murders happening in the honeymoon suites around town. Well, I’m on that case. We’ve hit a wall. We got nothing. And I was hoping that maybe you could help me out.” “You know that I don’t like to do this with such brutal murders. But since you’ve exhausted every other route, I’ll give it a try.” I set my coffee cup down. There was a fine tremor in my hands. I didn’t like dealing with murders. I did it because I had a gift, but I didn’t have to like it. Nate had known me long enough to know that. He and I had been friends for a long time. He knew about the nightmares I had had from using my gift on police matters. Sometimes I thought it was more of a curse than a gift.