Vigilante: A Fictional Narrative

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It may seem like magic, but it feels as natural as breathing for her. She can see right through you. She knows all your secrets, there is nothing that can be hidden. It is the 6th sense of some sort. Some call it premonitions, others refer to it as psychic, but for Anna, she called it, intuition. It is strong with her, always had it since she was a small child. She knew the thoughts that rolled around her mother’s head. She saw her fate before her fate met her, was it real or a dream? She drank the Kool-Aid, choking and coughing it down until it was discovered that Anna’s mother had been poisoning her. She liked the attention she got from friends and family so continued to kill her slowly as money, sympathy, and attention came pouring in…show more content…
She was the “old creepy dude” in every horror story that always tried to warn every one of their foreseen defeat and continuously would be laughed at and ignored. It was maddening, made her want to create a few evil thoughts of her own. Thoughts of becoming a vigilante, like the cunning cat woman in a comic strip. But she was not a superhero and did not have cool gadgets that would allow her to swing from rooftops like a shadow in the night. She had to pick her battles and eventually she realized she was losing every single one. She was finding it more and more difficult to determine reality from all the constant nightmares that unraveled in her ruminations. People’s thoughts were so clear it was like baneful whispers as vivid as a hot breath on her earlobe. She could smell the fear and feel every piercing glare like a steel sword sinking into her…show more content…
All the faces on the streets and in all the places she went, they would glare at her, look her in the eyes and start to reveal her own secrets. They could see her cruel intentions being thrown back at them like a monkey in the zoo tossing its feces. “Anna, did you stop taking your medicine again?” “What”, she asked quickly. “Why did you stop taking your meds? We have gone through this before, you tell me you are ok and you want to leave the facility, but how can I trust you on your own if you refuse to take your meds?” There was a wood desk the size of God with claw feet and intricate carvings. Anna could smell the cedar looming in the room. The walls were dark panels draped with stacks of bookshelves that reached the ceiling. She was startled by this person snapping their fingers and then leaning back in their ergonomically prestigious chair as it made a creaking noise that echoed in her ears. “But I do not need medicine, I’m trying to explain I can see them, I can hear their thoughts, I know what atrocity they are going to commit before they commit it. It is very real. You have to believe me.” “Who are you referring to

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