The Dead Story of a Birthmark

Chapter 4: Practice of the Past-Visions

“Huh, what?” Flint groggily replied. He continued rubbing his eyes as I excitedly stood over him. The air in the room felt more vibrant, as if the atmosphere was becoming clearer. “Wh– what do you mean? Our city?”

“Yeah!” I jumped with high energy. “Do you know what this means?” He shook his head, either replying to my question or trying to wake himself up. “That means that we’ll be able to find my past life. Somewhere in this city there’s gotta be something about who I once was.” Flint looked unsurprised while he stared blankly at the wall.

“Mm… and why do we need to find yourself– er– your past self?” He was having difficulty forcing himself to understand the logic behind this. “Are you having some identity crisis or something?” His sarcastic remark annoyed me.

“Well, for starters, I never expected that I’d be able to see into a life that I didn’t even know I lived,” I explained impatiently. “It doesn’t make it any better that my visions are missing a lot of details. This is the one clue I have gotten to finding out who I used to be!” Flint paused after my comment, blinking slowly. After a moment of careful thinking, he nodded understandably.

“Alright… I get it… you find out that your whole life up to this point is only half of who you are, and all you wanna do is find that other half.” This was an unexpectedly wise comment from Flint, but correct nonetheless.

“Exactly my point. I spent all of high school feeling worthless and pitiful for myself. It was annoying how this birthmark just made me feel... trapped… but now it’s actually revealing so much more than I could ever imagine!” I walked over to my closet, pushing away the hung clothes that were blocking my mirror. For the first time in a while, after moving my shirts and jackets to the other side of the bar, I saw my reflection looking back at me with an optimistic smile. Years of my life had been spent seeing this reflection as a disappointment, a disgrace. The long jagged scar that was my birthmark always seemed like a cancerous attribute that I’ve been stuck with. But now, there was opportunity surging from the discolored contour. I tenderly massaged the perimeter of the mark, imagining all of the possibilities of what it could reveal. If the mark is an indication of how one died in their past life, how did I die? Regarding the length and shape of it, I could’ve died from my face being torn apart, or a rare disease, or a really unusual burn…

“Well what happened in your vision this time?” Flint asked, pulling me away from my active imagination. “Obviously you saw something that told you that where you lived– or where your past life lived– was somewhere here in Brixton. Anything else worth knowing?” He got up from his chair and laid on his bed, grunting all the while.

“Nothing really. The vision was shorter, and this time I wasn’t running away from anything. It looked like a regular day going to work… and there was this pretty coworker I walked by who told me I was late.”

“So you still don’t know what caused your death yet?” he questioned. I hadn’t even considered that being important, but now that he brought it up, it was a fair inquiry. Once he saw that I shook my head, he asked, “Have you at least gotten a good look at yourself yet? It'd make sense that if you wanna find yourself, you gotta know what you look like.” I thought hard, thinking back to every type of reflective surface that appeared in my vision.

“I don’t remember any– at least I don’t think I do.” I shut my eyes tightly, trying my best to remember every aspect of the vision. “Best I can recall is my blurry reflection against the elevator doors, but nothing about my face.” Flint was about to say something else, but his words became muffled and groggy. Eventually the amalgamation of details from my visions flooded my thoughts like a storm, mixing up my mind into a messy whirlpool of memories.

“Yo, you good?” Flint faltered in an echoey distance. “Your face is turning red.” Whatever he was doing, I was unable to see, since my mind depicted a wavering image of multiple small details; the elevator permit, the nice coworker, the panicked running. It was getting difficult to discern between what was real and what was imagined. “Marcus? Marcus!” A sharp slap broke me back into reality. Somehow I went from standing in the middle of the room to lying flat on my bed.

“What the hell happened?” I panted, noticing the cold sweat dripping down my face.

“I– I don’t know, man. I just asked you if you got a good look at yourself then you started shaking.”

“Like I was having a vision?”

“No, definitely not. This was different… it looked like you were having an actual seizure.” My chaotic thoughts fluttered in and out of my mind, so I blinked rapidly and shook my head to ward them away.

“Ugh, how long was I out?”

“I don’t know… half a minute? Maybe a tiny bit longer?”

“Ow- shit,” I ached in pain. Just slightly shifting to the side made my entire body quake uncomfortably.

“Uh yeah, I’m not sure if getting up is the best idea right now,” Flint cautioned while he grabbed a bottle of water from our mini fridge. “Here, put this on your head.” He handed me the bottle, which I immediately set on my forehead. The cold surface of the condensated plastic immediately sent chills through my body. “So, what happened this time?” I couldn’t see Flint’s expression, but I could tell that he was on edge.

“I’m not so sure… thinking back to the visions just… took a toll on me. For some reason it’s hard to think straight.”

“Alright… well it goes without saying that we can’t have you thinking too much, then,” he quipped, sitting on his bed. “Maybe back-to-back days of doing your birthmark-vision-thing is messing with you.” 

“Yeah, you’re right… but what can we do then?” My question seemed to puzzle Flint. He almost looked offended by my question.

“What do you mean what can we do? You wanna keep getting your visions so you can build an immunity against your seizures or something?” His sarcastic question wasn’t too far from what I was about to say.

“I don’t know. I mean… I feel fine right now… it’s not like the visions are hurting me or anything.”

“That’s besides the point,” he interjected. “I don't give a damn if you feel fine... I literally watched you have a seizure... nonetheless, one that you couldn't control!” He got up from his bed to turn off the lights, which set the room fell into an eerie darkness. “This shit is scary… if I was a good friend then I’d be telling you to stop doing your visions right now! Unfortunately I have a weak spot when it comes to convincing people.” He paused for a moment of thought. “Look, if you're not gonna stop with your masochistic attempts at having these visions, then at least tell me when you're gonna do it. If you really want to remember each and every vision, then I can be the one to keep records of them– but you can’t be willingly succumbing to seizures every night. We don’t know what could happen!” I could hear the rustle of his sheets as he climbed back into his bed. 

“True, but aren’t you at least a little curious about this ability?” I retorted. “You were the one that went digging around for an actual answer for whatever happened the other day. The answer– albeit ridiculous– is the only one that seems to be true; my birthmark is quite literally the trigger to seeing into the past! Don’ t you get it? This opens up so many more possibilities! If I’m able to see my past life now, what if I get another ability later? What if I’m able to see into other people’s memories, or jump into someone else’s dreams?” I stopped to take in a deep breath, since my thoughts almost crossed the threshold of chaos again. “There’s literally a whole world of the unknown that was opened to us… I can’t have a few seizures and mild headaches ruin that possibility! We need to devote as much time to this as possible!” Flint didn’t respond right away; there were simply too many things that I brought up. It was a while until he spoke again.

“I get that… but it’s only your second vision. Maybe you’re right. Maybe this is a start to some sort of psychic pathway for you. Maybe you need to overcome difficulties in order to master your abilities. Hell, maybe in the future you’ll be able to travel through time! But if any of that is true, then that means that you at the very least need to take a break.” The dim light of his phone subtly lit up the room, before going dark again. “It’s already midnight, you need to rest. Tomorrow I’ll write out all of the details you want to keep a record of… but we’re in no rush. I think it’s best to wait at least a couple days before you even think of getting another vision.” His sheets shuffled again as he presumably rolled over to face the wall. As important as it was for me to go to sleep, I just couldn’t; my mind was far too active. I couldn’t tell if I was excited, or paranoid, or scared. It felt refreshing to uncover this newfound ability of mine-- but Flint has a point. I want to scratch away at this shell of myself to reveal who I truly am… but how far will I dive into my mind before it’s too late to resurface?

“Flint… sorry. I hear your point, and I’m sorry if I scared you. I’m just so happy that there’s something new to look forward to in my life, but I really am scared of what’ll happen. Will there be a point where I go too far, and have a seizure that I can’t get out of? Will there be a time where I can’t even think properly after seeing so many visions? There really is a lot to consider, but am I in the wrong if I want to keep going? To find out who- or what I am?” Silence responded. I peered over to the side to look at Flint’s shadowy silhouette. To my un-surprise, a light snoring emitted from his dark, unmoving figure. I looked back up at the blank ceiling, repeating the questions over and over in my head. Flint had the right idea… Now's the time to rest, not to worry.

A day had passed since my last vision-- or at least-- my last agreed-upon vision. I took Flint’s worries into consideration, but didn’t take them to heart. In reality, on Thursday night I had practiced going into my visions multiple times. I waited until Flint started to snore, and only began to experiment once it was clear that he was asleep. The experiments proved that the past-vision takes place only when my birthmark is rubbed counter-clockwise; any other motion would have no effect. Once I entered the visions, I did my best to force my way out back to reality, which was a success; all of the visions had ended within thirty seconds. Surprisingly, upon looking at the times on my phone, I discovered that I had actually spent almost ten minutes in each one. This implied that every second in a past-vision is twenty seconds in real time. It was a shock to discover this, yet exciting nevertheless. As for the visions themselves, it just looked like I was working on the computer at my desk; nothing too noteworthy. But tonight, I have a really good feeling about going back into my past-vision.

“What’re you all giddy about?” Flint whispered amongst the focused commotion of the class. Dr. Fisher had assigned another writing assignment, which I was already halfway through with. Flint, on the other hand, had finished all of his work for the day. For the rest of the class he played games on his laptop while I finished the remainder of the work. “Are you happy about Mrs. Greenwood’s little interaction with you before class, or are you excited about your suicide vision mission tonight?” I nudged him in the side as he cackled.

“First, calling her ‘Mrs. Greenwood’ is weird, bro. It’s like I’m trying to date a teacher.” He humorously nodded in agreement. “Secondly, Melissa and I just said hi before class, nothing special.” 

“Oh please, I saw how red you got when she said hi,” he scoffed. “A regular greeting to her is like a blessing to you.”

“Bro, did you even do your work right?” I diverted. “You probably spent fifteen minutes, tops.”

“You’re damn right I did. You know plain well that I don’t need to spend too much time on my work.” A dwindling 8-bit sound effect played as a resounding ‘YOU LOST’ showed up on Flint’s screen. “Ahh shit, you distracted me.” He closed the laptop in disappointment and rustled his hands through his hair. “But I’m serious, Scarface, you don’t need to have these visions. You’ve had your fun already, so why push it?”

“Flint, I get it, I already agreed to not overdo it,” I half-lied. “But you already know that I'm willing to go through anything in order to find out who I am, so give me a pass.” Flint grumbled in clear dislike about my excitement.

“I know, but you can't ignore the fact that this is a death wish. Even so, I'll be there for you… and I am kinda interested if we find out something along the way.” 

“Thanks man, I really appreciate it.’

“Mr. Callaway, I don't see you working very hard!” Dr. Fisher exclaimed, standing right over me. “And you, Marcus, I don't see you working at all.”

“Sorry sir, but I already finished my work,” Flint replied. Dr. Fischer gave a stern look at both of us before walking back to examine the rest of the students. “Asshole,” Flint spoke under his breath once Dr. Fisher was out of earshot. “Look man, we'll talk about this more later, Mr. tight-ass over here is watching us like a hawk.” The rest of the class period sailed smoothly, with there being little to no difficulties. Luckily, I was able to finish my homework by then, leaving my weekend to be relatively free.

Once the clock struck 5:15, Flint and I jumped out of our seats and practically sprinted to the door. Our philosophy was that if we rushed out of the class as soon as it ended, Dr. Fisher wouldn’t find a reason to pull us aside. We weren’t sure if this was fully true, but we were already down the hall and running down the stairs before I could give it a second thought.

“Okay, hold– hold up!” Flint panted at the bottom of the stairs. He had his head down and his hands on his knees, having clear difficulty in catching his breath. “I think– I think we're good now… we don't need to run anymore.” He leaned against the wall, taking large, deep breaths. I too was exhausted, but my adrenaline was far too high for me to relax. 

“Come on, get up already!” I restlessly jabbered. “Let's get back to the dorms.”

“And do what, exactly? Go ahead and be face to face with death?” Flint’s tiredness seemed to be going down. “Look, man, we shouldn't be in a rush to do this. Class just ended and I'd like to take a break for now.”

“Well, I'd rather do it now than never.” Flint still didn’t look convinced. All he did was sink slowly towards the floor with his hands behind his head. I sighed in defeat. “Alright, I guess we can get some dinner really quick.” He looked at me with relief. 

“That… sounds really good right now.” He stood up straight, as if there was no exhaustion in the first place. “So. Cafeteria or a place outside of school?” I smirked at him.

“With our broke asses? Yeah, let’s stick to the school food, even if it is crap.” He enthusiastically pushed himself off the wall and strided to the door.

“Then come on, let’s get going!”

We sat down to eat, then rode our bikes around the campus. Despite being at school for almost a month, there were many areas we weren’t used to. The campus was fairly large, as it took us almost fifteen minutes just to ride from one end to the other. Along the way, Flint would take breaks and claim that he wanted to stay and memorize certain landmarks. I knew that he was just stalling; he would do anything in his ability to make me forget about my past-vision plan.

“Alright, let’s head back!” I yelled over the racing wind as we raced by the library. Flint rode slightly behind me, so I made sure to turn my head as I spoke. “We’ve already ridden past here, I think it’s time to go back!”

“Hold on, we still haven’t seen the CSUB police station!” he yelled back. “I heard that they have a really cool front–”

“Flint!” I pulled on the brakes and skidded to a noisy stop. He followed suit immediately after. “Come on, man. I know you don’t want me to have my past-visions, but you gotta understand that you’re not gonna change my mind! So stop the bullcrap and let’s head back already.” He paused for a moment to puff out a frustrated breath. He probably knew that no matter how long he stalls for, I'm going to force myself into another vision no matter what.

“Alright, whatever. My fatass was starting to get tired anyway.” He smiled stupidly and turned around, heading back towards the dorms. In a victorious whiff, I set my feet back on my pedals and followed him closely. On the way there, we had to avoid obstacles of students and families who were going to the weekly community night; every Friday the university holds some sort of public event, that even non-students and alumni would attend. It came to a point where we needed to walk our bikes, since it was simply too crowded. “Ugh dammit, I forgot that the event they had today was movie food truck night. It starts in, like, an hour, so if you finish your vision quickly then let’s go to that.”

“Alright, deal. I might be out for a bit, so don’t be too impatient.” After a bit of walking, we reached the dorm building and locked up our bikes. The flow of the other dorm residents filing out of the building impeded our path into the building, but eventually we were able to pass through the crowd and reach closest elevator. Since there were more people leaving rather than coming into the building, it took little to no time for the doors to open.

“I’m really counting on this being quick. Have your little dream-past thingy, tell me everything you remember, I’ll write down everything and we’ll head out, got it?” I nodded hastily as the elevator door opened to our floor. Student card in hand, I ran to the room and swiped the door unlocked, letting Flint enter first.

“In and out, got it,” I said, flopping onto my bed. “I’ll try to look at as many details as I can, then I’ll be out before you even notice.” I took a deep breath, slowly placing my hand on my face. “Alright, here goes nothing.” Flint didn’t realize what I was doing at first, but it was too late for him to stop me.

“Wait hold on! Let me at least get the timer–” his sentence was cut short as everything went to black. I had forgotten that Flint is still not used to my seizure-like blackouts. I, afterall, was overly desensitized due to my previous endeavors, so immediately going into this was no trouble. After the black screen consequently followed the usual flying colors. Since this is my fifth time around, I noticed that this began to look more like an organized routine, rather than an unnatural episodic occurrence. First was always the momentary blackness, then the somewhat terrifying flashing colors and noise, and finally…

Heavy panting, bleeding arms, and intense fear. This panic, these messy clothes, the chaotic environment… everything seemed familiar. It didn't take long for me to deduce that this was the very first vision I had, except something’s different. This time there weren’t multiple voices trailing behind me… it was just one, angry voice.

“Dammit, I can’t see!” he yelled to himself. I could hear his random footsteps pace in all directions as he flailed around. I, meanwhile, felt pain all over my body, so the most I could do was limp. Just like the first vision, I tripped over something and fell to the ground hard. Covering my mouth with my unhurt hand, I looked back to see just one blurry silhouette.

“Help me or I swear… no more… you damn bastard!” My hearing was definitely clearer than last time as I began to notice more words. Although there seemed to be some parts that were still difficult to discern. Then, as if I was following a script, I had gotten back onto my feet to continue running. Strangely enough, instead of getting closer to the elevators to reach for help– as my other vision had transpired– everything instantaneously transitioned. Like a matter of bad video editing, my memories cut to another scene. In this one, I was greeted by a painful pound against my face. This new experience was clearly disorienting, especially since whatever came in contact seemed to have broken my nose. Stunned by the sudden agony, I fell back against what felt like a wall. The environment vaguely resembled that of the office building, but my vision was clouded by sweat and blood, so it was hard to tell. 

“My own… pay… own life!” someone echoed into my head. Things were happening so fast. It was impossible to tell what was happening. Then, in a moment of sheer torture and excruciation, my face was slashed by something sharp. This was a pain that I've never felt before. This was a pain that lit my entire body. At the same time of the harrowing slash, the real world came back into view, and I leaped out of the bed, yelling.

“Woah, shit!” Flint, too, jumped out of his skin while on his laptop. “The hell happened?” Shaking violently, I fell out of the bed, crashing onto the ground. “Yo Marcus! You good, man?” He shut his laptop and stumbled over to me. “You're pale as shit!” My face continued searing in pain, as if a flaming knife was pressed against the birthmark.

"The pain... it hurts... too much," I cried, pressing my hands against my face. I just needed something-- anything-- that could get rid of this burning. "Th– the– the vision– same as– first,” I shakily answered while hyperventilating. It seemed that the pain was slowly crawling away, which allowed me to climb up tremulously onto my feet.

“You got the same vision as the first time?” Flint looked confused. “Well… what the hell changed for you to react this way?” He made sure that I was stable on my feet and went over to the fridge to take out a cold can of soda. I carefully grabbed the offered can and slowed my disturbed breathing, setting my thoughts in order. A loud fizz came from the drink as I cracked it open, which helped in calming me down. Upon the first sip of the sweet, carbonated goodness, a warm feeling flowed back into me, finally settling my nerves.

“Yeah, it was the same vision as the first… except there was only one guy behind me.”

“Oh? Then wouldn't that mean that it was a different vision? Maybe you're just mixing up the two”

“No. Somehow I could tell that it was the same one, but it gets weirder. In the first vision I ran towards the elevators and pushed things down, but before I could get to that point, everything switched.” Flint looked sensibly confused. “Instead of running, this time there was pain… and alot of it. It felt like a bag of dumbbells landing on my face.”

“Wow… no wonder you woke up screaming.”

“That’s still not it. All the while there was a person– a man– saying something about his own life? It was hard to tell, cus just like all the other times, some words were cut out.”

“All the other times?” Flint asked. “But I thought it was only the first one where words were cut out?” I hesitated, not wanting to confess to trying out the past-visions multiple times.

“Yeah. Yeah you’re right. Sorry it’s just that this one really messed me up.” Wanting to divert the conversation, I continued, “At the end of it, something hit my face. If I had to compare it to something, it felt like a hot blade cutting through my face…” Flint looked concentrated about the last detail especially.

"Cutting through your face? If anything that kinda sounds like..." After a moment of ringing silence, his eyes lit up.

“Ohhh wow. No way!” Flint paced around the room with his hands behind his head in shock. “This just got interesting! There’s no way in hell…”

“What? Come on now, don't be all weird about that.”

“Marcus, you said that you were running away from something in the beginning?”

“Yeah? But I don’t get–”

“And you said that there was only one guy you saw? Just one?”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t…” My eyes, too, widened. I finally understood what he was hinting at.

“Bro, you get it now, right?” He excitedly hollered.

“Whoever was behind me while I was running... he wasn't actually running with me… was he?” Flint nodded animatedly. “And the searing pain in the end… the hot blade against my face… are you telling me that...”. Being unable to contain his eagerness, he yelled at the top of his lungs.

“Your past life didn’t just die regularly… he was murdered!”