The Dead Story of a Birthmark

Chapter 3: A Test of Control

I paused, waiting for the punchline of his joke. I soon discovered that there was none.

“Ehhh I think you need to work on that one a bit,” I confided. “I don’t see the punchline. Is it supposed to be some sort of dark humor or…?” Flint impatiently waved his hand.

“No no no! I’m serious!” he persisted. “You– with the– err–,” he stuttered, looking around the room. “Here, just read this section.” Flint flipped back to the page he was just on and handed the book to me. The top of the page read Birthmarks: indications of past-life trauma. I looked up at him skeptically, still waiting for him to admit to making a bad joke. When that expectancy didn’t come into fruition, I began to read aloud.

“Most recently, theorists around the world developed the idea that birthmarks are evidence of past life trauma. This leads to the presumption that birthmarks are an indication of how one had died in their previous life, which supports the reincarnation theory (see page 39). Experts say that if such information is true, then it may give humans a chance to tap into the unknown world of death. There are a fickle few cases where individuals with large birthmarks claim to have dreams– or visions– of what their past life was like, and how it ended. As this is a fairly fresh theory, skeptics address the claims to be nothing but a placebo; people convincing themselves that such an ability exists to the point of influencing their psyche, and believing that they possess such ability. On the contrary, many of these cases have been reported within the past few decades, but were written off as nothing more than a good night’s sleep. However, in 1998, a woman who had a dark birthmark on her leg allegedly stated that she had frequent realistic dreams of being an old woman who died from a leg infection. Sure enough, researchers had found that an individual back in the 50’s had, in fact, the exact details described by the birthmarked woman, who claims to have not known this information prior to her statement.”

I looked up once I finished reading the passage to see Flint staring at me with full serious intent. I couldn’t help but think that this idea was ridiculous.

“What do you think?” he excitedly beamed. “It took me forever to find that story!”

“Okay…” I mused, thinking of a way to turn down his idea. “So I get that the birthmark is supposed to be some sort of special past-life mark thingy… but you’re saying that I have this ability? Didn’t you say yesterday that what I saw was just a ‘glorified nightmare’?”

“Yes,” he admitted, “but that’s not the point! The fact that you could recall such a weird vision while having some sort of faux seizure was enough for me to speculate, not to mention that your seizure is technically the longest in history!”

“Wait really?” I was even more baffled. “What was the longest before me?”

“Something around nine or ten minutes,” he answered. “I looked through a lot of medical records and websites to find that out. From what I found, not a single one of those recorded seizures ended well; there were all sorts of bit tongues, slight amnesia, strokes, a lot of things that you didn’t get!” I was still disbelieving.

“Okay, well that just sounds like I’m a once in a lifetime case, I don’t see how my birthmark would be relevant.”

“Well that’s where you’re wrong.” Flint seemed to be prepared with his replies. “Tell me, do you remember what you did prior to the seizure?”

“I was talking to Melissa,” I said, after a short moment of thought. “We were just talking about homework.”

“Yeah, but what did you do?” It seemed that he was looking for a specific answer.

“I guess I was a bit flustered.” Flint nodded, pushing me to continue with what I was saying. “That’s it, though. My face turned red, I got embarrassed, then I proceeded to have an epileptic seizure.” Flint shook his head and sighed.

“Marcus… you’re my friend. Besides your dad, I probably know you the best. Do you know what you do pretty much every time you get embarrassed?” I tried my best racking my brain for what answer he was looking for.

“Ummm… I usually rub my fingers through my hair or rub my face–”. Marcus snapped his fingers and pointed excitedly.

“That, right there! You rubbed your face!” He cheered triumphantly. “You rubbed your birthmark, which somehow caused you to have a vision from your past life! And before you say anything-- you also mentioned how real the vision felt, and how it seemed as though bits and pieces of it were missing. But maybe there’s no details that are missing! Maybe they’re details that you simply have forgotten!” This wild presumption put me in whiplash, since it was something so bizarre that I didn’t even consider it– but I couldn’t refute the idea. It was true that the vision felt like a memory... felt like an actual part of my life. 

“Huh… woah.” I was in awe. “The vision did feel real, and it did feel like some details were forgotten… but why now? I’ve rubbed my face a bunch of times in the past, why would I now have this ability?” Flint shrugged.

“Maybe it’s just from growing up. Maybe it’s an ability that matures as you mature, who knows? But I sincerely believe that this is the closest thing we have to an answer.” He looked proud of himself to discover such a revelation.

“That makes sense…” I paused before I spoke again. “But it’s not really true unless we test it… and maybe we should.” Flint’s face shifted from pride to immediate worry.

“The hell? Are you serious!?” he quaked as I nodded vehemently. “Look, I only researched this because it bugged me so much. If anything I was thinking that it’s something you need to avoid!”

“Yeah, but remember what the doctor said? She made it seem like I had a good nap rather than a medical emergency. Plus, I may find out more about myself along the way!” It was clear that Flint disliked the idea. “Look, what better time to do it than at night?” I moved my hand to place it on my face, but Flint had lunged towards me and held my hands down.

“Woah woah woah... this is still only a theory! We can’t be certain that it’ll happen again, nevertheless have the same, safe, results! And plus,” he shakily smiled. “You’d know they’d arrest my black ass if you died unexpectedly.” I laughed at his crude joke, but most importantly pondered his point about it being a theory. If it's true, then that means that I have so much more to learn about myself... I can at least feel some sort of control. But if it isn't, I'll just disappoint myself in the end.

“Alright, I get it,” I said, softly pushing his arms off of my hands. “But it’s something I seriously want to find out… What if I try it tomorrow night?” Flint still didn’t look so sure. “Look, I can rest up tonight, go to class tomorrow, then stay in the dorm to find out if rubbing my mark does anything. You can choose whether you want to stay or not.” Flint gave a thoughtful smirk and scratched his head. 

“Fine, but I might stay around to make sure you don’t get hurt or anything. It’s just today… I’m not up for it.” Once we reached the consensus, I turned over to go to sleep, while Flint stayed up, presumably doing some homework… which reminds me...

“Oh shit! The essay for Dr. Fisher!” I yelped, pushing myself out of bed and grabbing my laptop. Flint widened his eyes, and he, too, began to panic.

“Dammit I forgot all about that!” he yelled. The both of us began typing on our laptop, with the keys clashing loudly in the, otherwise, silent room. The rest of the night passed by, occupied by the barraging sounds of typing and the focused voices of us tossing details between each other.

The next morning was a bit rough, since we both woke up late. It turned out that we had slept through both of our phones’ alarms, and only had twenty minutes until class. This would usually be enough time to shower and get ready, if we didn’t need to also print out our essays. So, in yesterday’s clothes, we rushed out of the dorm and quickly walked to the library. Luckily there was a short line to use the printers, and we were able to print out our papers after a few minutes of waiting. Flint’s essay was around six pages, which took only slightly longer than my four paged essay.

“Shit, shit, shit we got ten more minutes,” Flint cautioned as we jogged out of the building. Our campus was fairly large, and the Humanities building was on the opposite side of the library. The past few weeks we tended to walk to class without worrying about tardiness, but today was a race against time. Dr. Fisher had always been harsh on the tardy policy, and even threatened to kick students out of the class who were late by even a minute. I especially didn’t want to be one of those students, since he has some sort of weird personal vendetta against me. 

After eight minutes of speed walking, we reached the Humanities building and rushed through the front doors. The class was on the fourth floor, but there was already a group of people waiting for the next elevator. Flint and I made the tough decision to go up the stairs route, which was hundreds of irregularly high steps, which made climbing up  them all the more difficult. I could hear Flint’s heavy panting with each step, but he and I knew that this w0uld be no time to waste. I glanced at the time on my phone, which read 8:59; it seems that we might make it right before class starts. Once we reached the fourth floor, I pushed the door open for Flint, who surprisingly wasn’t trailing too far behind me. The classroom was down the right hallway, and I started to count the seconds in my head. 10, 9, 8… I heard Flint stumble behind me, but he eventually regained his walking speed. 7, 6… The classroom was practically in our grasp, all we needed to do was open the door. 5, 4, 3, 2…

We burst in, understandably making some of the students jump in surprise. Dr. Fisher looked disappointed; he probably wanted us to be late in order to have an excuse to kick me out. Flint and I smiled awkwardly, breathing heavily through our noses. Our typical spots were occupied, so we found a pairing of seats in the third row to sit at. In her usual front right seat sat Melissa, who giggled at the strained look on our faces.

“Alright class,” Dr. Fisher grunted.  “Some of you may have remembered, but for others who don’t,” his eyes darted from us then back to his computer, “there was a paper due today. If you have it, please pass it down to the front desk.”

Class seemed a bit more rough today; Dr. Fisher acted more stern than how he already acts, and some students were shunned for not having their essays printed out. When Flint and I handed down our papers, they were a bit wrinkled from our scrambled running, so he talked to us after class had ended.

“Do you gentlemen think that my class is some joke?” Flint stood by me, scratching his head in confusion. “When I run this class, I run it intending to keep an organized integrity. It makes it a bit hard to do that when a couple of buffoons think it’s okay to turn in these pieces of crap.” He held up our half-crumpled papers, practically shoving them in our faces. “You’re lucky I’m merciful, otherwise I’d have you two redo all of this work.” We nodded appreciatively.

“Yes, sorry. It won’t happen again,” I apologized. 

“Good, I’ll be expecting that,” he retorted. “I’ll see you next week, make sure to do your readings.” We nodded once again. Once he walked back to his desk to finish packing up, I ran back to my seat to grab my things. It was my intention to talk to Melissa after class, but she walked out while Dr. Fisher lectured us. Maybe if I hurry I’d be able to catch her before she walks out of the building. Flint followed suit, messily shoving his folders and laptop into his bag.

“Don’t worry about me, go ahead I’ll catch up,” he said, seeing that I had finished packing. I gave a brief “hm” in response, and ran out of the classroom. I could see my other colleagues from the class, but no Melissa. It only made it more difficult now that the hallway was packed with people. I slipped and squeezed by as many people as I could, until eventually getting to a point where there were no gaps to get through. The bustle of people moved in a slow, unbothered flow towards the stairs and elevators. I stood on my tiptoes to try and get a better view past the student’s heads, but it was impossible to decipher which brunette amongst the crowd was Melissa and not some random person whom I had no relationship with.

After a short amount of time, the crowd dissipated when people began getting to their classes. Even so, there was no Melissa in sight. I huffed in disappointment as I went over to lean against the wall. Flint caught up to me not long after, seeing my disheartened expression.

“Man, not so lucky today, huh?” He frowned. 

“Ehh it’s whatever,” I shrugged. “I can just talk to her some other day.” Flint nodded in agreement before we went off to get lunch from the cafeteria. While eating, we talked about nothing in particular. Afterwards, we went back to the dorm to read more of the The History of Conspiracy chapters to find if there was any information we missed. Unluckily there didn’t seem to be any other passages on birthmark theories. Eventually the rest of the day was filled with attending Philosophy class and doing homework at the library. There was one point where we met up with some other college buddies to go play pool in the Brixton Student Union, which was fun while it lasted.

“Man, I am beat,” Flint groaned exhaustedly. We had just parted ways from our other friends, who live in apartments off-campus.“For real, but our day isn’t over,” I winked. The unnecessary cool A/C air hit my face as we walked into the dorm building.

“So you’re actually going through with it?” Flint asked, worried.

“Yeah why not? You don’t need to stay if you don’t want to.” He looked uncertain, but was able to make up his mind.

“Shit, I was there when it first happened. It’s just necessary for me to be there when it happens again.” He fist-bumped me and opened the door to our room, letting me go in first.

“Okay, let’s not waste any time.” I threw my backpack under my desk and jumped onto my bed. 

“Do you need a timer or something?” Flint asked while pulling out his phone. “If you can, try getting out of the vision as quickly as you can.” I laid back flat on my back and pulled my blankets up onto me.

“Yeah, use the timer, we can see if there’s any change… assuming that I’ll have a vision at all.” Even though we didn’t have solid proof yet, I had a feeling that this theory would very well be true. “Alright, you ready?”

“Ready whenever you are.” Flint sat side-saddled in his chair, holding his phone with both hands. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, hoping with all of my being that it would work. I placed my fingers on my mark and rubbed clockwise, holding my breath in for preparation of what I wanted to happen.

Everything went black. I wanted to feel joy or relief, but as before, my body was completely paralyzed. I couldn’t see nor hear anything, just like last time. There were a few moments of pitch blackness until random colors started flashing all around me. Everything seemed to be falling into place. 

Mirroring the events of the first time, the flashing lights stopped, and I found myself standing in front of an office building. I seemed to be late for work since I kept looking at my wristwatch. I strides into the building in a quick, yet civilized, manner. It was a strange feeling being in this vision. Just like last time, my actions weren’t intentional. It was as if I was watching from the outside looking in, yet whatever I did just felt right.

“Look at who’s late this morning,” a female coworker teased. I smiled as I walked past her. Even though I’ve never seen this place before, I could tell where everything was laid out; I knew where the bathroom was, where the break room was, where my cubicle was. Knowing that I was in a vision, though, I was able to pay attention to my surroundings a lot better. There were still strange black spots covering certain things, but I was able to deduce that this was an office building that focused on power supply. Blueprints of solar panels lined some walls and slogans like ‘natural power, better efficiency’ were hung in picture frames. I ran into an open elevator and pressed the third floor button. Above the buttons was some sort of elevator permit, which caught my eye. I looked closely at the permit, reading what it said. 

“Property of Brixton Mechanics 2001 patented.”

I reread the permit over and over again. I was in disbelief. Wanting desperately to get out of the vision, I strained my thoughts. I couldn’t tell exactly what I felt, but it was similar to the feeling of forcing a way out of a dream. 

I jumped out of the bed, back into reality. My hyperventilating breaths were making it difficult for me to focus. I looked over at Flint, who was slumped over, snoring in his chair. His hand hung over the backside of the chair with his phone on the ground directly under it. He must've gotten tired and fell asleep while holding the phone

“Flint! Flint!” I climbed out of bed and rushed over to his sleeping body. “Flint! Wake up man!” I shoved his shoulder  until his eyes quivered open. 

“What man,” he mumbled sleepily. Realizing the situation, he slapped himself awake and  picked up his phone. “Holy shit! 20 minutes and 5 seconds!” He exclaimed, showing the paused timer on his screen. “Were you able to get yourself out of it?”

“Yeah, but Flint!” I pushed his question aside. “The person— the me— in the vision!” I stepped back in shock. “He used to work here! He used to work in Our city!”