Precognition

By Niles Reddick

He craved a grilled cheese, took the old frying pan, put it on the stove’s eye, and dabbed enough butter to coat the pan. He peeled the American cheese from its wrapper, put it between two slices of wheat bread, and placed it in the pan. When he turned to get the spatula out of the utensil drawer, he saw a flash of the momentary future in his mind’s eye: the stove’s burner exploding, the pan and bits of grilled cheese flying across the small kitchen in the garage apartment, bits of sandwich on the floor, roof, cabinets, and him cleaning up and scraping bits of cheese before the mice came out at night and nibbled. He wondered if he had to buy a new burner, install it on the stove, or if the landlord would repair it. He listened to his rumbling, hungry stomach still craving a hot grilled cheese. 

Once he grabbed the spatula, and before he turned back to flip his grilled cheese, he heard the pop, like a firecracker, and watched in slow motion as the chaotic scene he’d just seen in his mind’s eye unfolded before him. He hadn’t thought it would happen. His precognition didn’t always work. 

He knew if he had been standing in front of the stove when the burner exploded that he might have had bits of the burner in his eyes or face and was appreciative of the precognitive moment, a gift he’d had since childhood when he had been zapped by an electrical outlet in a storm as he tried to plug in his electric train set in his bedroom. His hair on his legs, arms, and head had stood at attention, better than his toy soldiers, and when Seth brushed is hair, it returned to its standing position. It took a day before it laid down again. 

Later, he learned that he had to be careful around electricity, as if the electricity itself was attracted to him. He had been jolted by an electric fence while brushing his horse Pinto, and when he swung in a tire swing in the live oak tree in their backyard, lightning split the tree in two, and he felt it throughout his body. After that incident, anytime he wore a watch, the watch stopped completely. He’d come to rely on others for time.

Seth didn’t consider his experience paranormal; he simply believed it was part of the everyday reality anyone could experience if the conditions were right. He had simply acquired something that aided him in self-preservation, like a guardian angel guiding him, but Seth didn’t share it outside his circle of friends or family. Seth adjusted to the precognition like it was a part of him like an extra finger, webbed toes, or a limp in his gait. He cleaned up pieces of the broke pan and bits of grilled cheese, tossed them in the trash, and made himself a cold cheese sandwich.