Obituary
Matthew Ryan Fischer
Kimmie feared her growing psychic ability. She was convinced she
had killed another driver with a passing thought. Cut off in traffic, she had a
terrible thought. And then the car in front of her spun out of control and
crashed into the guard railing and tumbled down a hill, flipping and crushing
the driver. It was later discovered the driver was already dead before the
crash could kill them. A blood vessel burst. That’s what science said, anyway. But
Kimmie knew better.
Kimmie was afraid of her thoughts, unsure what she could cause to
happen if she gave voice to any stray wish or desire. Never much for talking to
herself, now she tried to shut up completely. Worried about her powers, she
wondered what her subconscious mind or dreams might cause. She was pretty sure
a boy at school had missed the past week due to something beyond her conscious
control. They had kissed after homecoming but never gone out again, but she did
dream of him from time to time. She knew she should ask what was wrong, but she
shuttered to think about what she had done or why he was missing school.
Kimmie was pretty sure her powers and problems were her own. She had
read enough fiction and watched all of Deathnote, twice. If a demon or spell of
some sort were involved there would be an item or totem or Kimmie would have
said or done something. But she hadn’t wandered into any strange magick shops
or met any strange people with ancient lamps or books or other antiques. Maybe
she was like Jean Grey and this was her Dark Phoenix Saga.
Fantasy and heroics aside, none of it made her feel any better.
She had killed a man. She felt awful. She deserved punishment but no police and
no court of law would believe her when she told them how she had done it. Maybe
she was too powerful and didn’t deserve to live. Maybe she needed to use her
powers on herself. The thought had barely crossed her mind, when everything went
dark.
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