I Miss the Auras Most

I know everyone thinks I'm crazy, or lying. But it's real. I see things. Or I used to.

The auras were my favourite. So beautiful. I could tell so much about a person by looking at their aura. It's like listening to a complex piece of music. I get a feel for them.

The local police department won't admit to using me. They'd be a laughing stock. What's weird is, I can't be specific. Not because I "don't know jack-shit", either. No, because it makes people more suspicious that it isn't real. She's a charlatan. It's a trick. She must've known some other way.

I give nudges. Hints and hunches. I point, guide, and whisper. How ironic, that I was so knowing, so fucking smug about so many things... and yet oblivious to the thing growing in my own breast, and spreading.

I found the lump eventually. In those moments, I was just the same as anyone else. Afraid. Alone. I could feel the lump even when I wasn't feeling it. My tears arranged around it, like a rock in a stream.

A CT scan was arranged. I exchanged smiles with the nurse setting up the IV. Her aura was a comforting one, and I leaned on it, drank from it... then... it started fading away. I panicked. She looked at me with concern, asked, "Are you OK?" but I couldn't explain what was happening.

"What's in that?"

"Iodine," she said. "For the contrast."

I had no idea iodine was a sort of kryptonite for me. I gaped, horrified, at the cannula in my hand. I scrabbled at it, but knew it was already too late.

I sobbed during the scan.

"You must stay still Ms Hamer," they said.

They took the cancer away, burned it out of me, but they cauterised something else as well, something precious I never consented to lose. So I sued them, for emotional distress and loss of earnings. Everyone laughed, of course. But I already told you I was cosy with the police department. I knew the right people, who could talk to the right people, who could pull strings...

I walked away with a tidy half mil and change.

+ + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + Word count excluding note: 366 Submitted on Monday 29th July at 11.44

*Very Quick Author's Note* First of all, 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. 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 211 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 Please do leave me a comment. I try to reciprocate as many as I can. Leaving a comment makes that easier.

The story behind the story: This is based on a true story. Judith Richardson Haimes worked as a psychic. She claimed iodine used prior to a CT scan disabled her psychic gift, and sued the hospital. She won! $600,000! The rest of the story is stitched together from my own embellishments. I invented the rest, including the reason for the CT scan, how her talent manifested, how she managed to win, and all her thoughts, feelings and experiences around her gift and the loss of it. I also changed her name.

If you enjoyed this one, maybe have a look at these as well:

I am Jack's tumour - the character faces losing his psychic ability if he accepts the medical treatment he needs.

To Live in Colour - the character has to make a choice between her ability and something else of value.

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!