I am Jack's tumour

I've always been able to See things, as long as I can remember. Small snippets of insight. Flashes I call them. That's what they are. Quick. Sometimes big, sometimes small. Could be what a stranger ate for breakfast, or what your nana said to you before she died. I've always accepted it as part of who I am.

I tremble, apparently. My eyes lose focus, sometimes flickering, like I'm dreaming. It's clear to those around me I've spaced out. "Gone blank", Danni says.

There's something going on up there, in my head. Something pressing on something else. Growing. Flashes got more frequent. I've had flashes of temper, too. Bad language. Like a different personality rearing its head. I can't get a bit between its teeth.

Danni convinced me to go and get checked. I hesitated. I rationalised by saying that it's another flash; I should listen to it. But then the blackouts got worse, I'd fully pass out, openly fitting.

Now I wait in this uncomfortable bed, in this ridiculous gown, for them to bring the consent forms.

I'm not sure I'm going to do it. Sign, I mean. Go through with the surgery.

More rationalising: it's because they're going through my eye. I could lose sight in that eye. And this: a nick or nudge one millimetre to the left or right... And I could come out changed. The one that rears an ugly, unbittable, unbiddable head... could be me, permanently.

There's more than one way to die. I'm facing them.

I've been having seizures all this time. It's hard to accept the Sight was a curse, not a gift. I don't want to lose it.

Even if the surgery goes well, I'll be changed.

For the better? Maybe.

It's not a part of who I am. It is who I am. My flashes were my whole personality.

I am a tumour in my head. I glance back at my life, seeing the smugness... I don't like it. Don't like me... But I don't know how to be anything else. Don't want to be anything else.

So I lie here, wrestling with these thoughts, waiting. Hoping I have another flash of insight to guide me.

+ + + + + + + + + + + + Word count, excluding note: 366 Submitted on 5th June at 21.43

*Quick Author's Note* First, and most importantly: thank you so much for reading my story! The ha'penny that Vocal will toss in my hat for your eyeballs landing on this humble piece will be well-spent. Might buy a star, like that dude in Three Body Problem.

If you enjoyed this one, the very best compliment you can give me is to share it, or read another! A Year of Stories: I'm writing a story every day this year. This one continues my 157 day streak since 1st January.

Please do consider lending your support to the other creators who are also on this madcap "a story every day" adventure. They are putting out excellent content every day!

Rachel Deeming

Gerard DiLeo

The story behind the story: I got this idea from Beans in Rango. (I love that movie by the way - very underrated!) First time I saw it, her quirk fascinated the heck out of me. I thought, Where does she go when she spaces out? She just freezes, and I have "Jack" go a bit different, but Mrs. Beans is my inspiration for this one.

The image: Created with AI. I didn't ask for a young Cary Elwes, but The Princess Bride is a huge favourite, so I'm not sad about it.

Leave me a comment: it makes it easier for me to reciprocate the read. I know I am behind on reads, but doing my best to catch up! Thank you Thank you again, most sincerely. Especially if you are one of the wonderful people who has been staunchly reading these daily scribbles since the start of the year. I see you, and appreciate you very much indeed! 😁 + + + + + + + + + + + +