<\/p>\n
No matter what you do, <\/p>\n Marianne repeated the rhyme her grandmother had taught her so many years ago as she trudged through her morning ritual. Take a shower, start the breakfast, wake her daughter\u2026<\/p>\n Partway through her routine, Marianne went to the foot of the driveway to collect the newspaper. She moved slowly, trembling slightly as she forced each foot to lift and move forward in turn. Her hand was visibly shaking by the time she bent to lift the newspaper from its concrete bed.<\/p>\n The newspaper was almost always where it began. The newspaper almost always contained the first sign.<\/p>\n Marianne unrolled the unwelcome messenger and began to scan the headlines. Most of the front page was irrelevant, containing details of the upcoming Presidential primaries. She kept scanning, waiting for a story, a photograph, or even a misprint to jump out at her. Nothing did.<\/p>\n \u201cHoney, are you going to stand out there all day?\u201d Stephen, Marianne\u2019s husband, called from the front door.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m coming!\u201d Marianne rolled up the newspaper and walked toward the house with a much lighter gate. She had felt no signs today. That did not mean that none would come, but when the newspaper was silent she had to feel some degree of hope.<\/p>\n As Marianne reentered her large suburban New York estate, she handed the newspaper to Stephen. He took it without a word and went to the couch to read. Marianne almost said something, anything, to begin a dialogue with her husband. How long had it been since they had really talked? Stephen always seemed so busy, though, and she was always preoccupied. Somewhere along the line, with all of Stephen\u2019s promotions, raises, and accompanying late nights, they had lost something precious.<\/p>\n \u201cNeed something?\u201d Stephen asked, noticing Marianne\u2019s gaze.<\/p>\n She almost said yes. She almost told him what was in her heart. \u201cNo,\u201d she said instead as she headed towards the kitchen. Gabrielle needed her lunch and the dishes needed washing.<\/p>\n \u201cHey, Marianne!\u201d Stephen said with a chuckle, \u201cThe newspaper\u2019s got the wrong date!\u201d<\/p>\n She had forgotten to look at the date! Slowly, painstakingly, she made her way back to the living room and looked over her husband\u2019s shoulders. The paper clearly read: Friday, April 2nd, 2004.<\/p>\n Marianne felt an all too familiar electric tingle run up her spine.<\/p>\n \u201cMaybe it\u2019s an April fool\u2019s joke,\u201d Stephen said. He had a smile on his face as he looked at Marianne, but it vanished when he saw her expression.<\/p>\n \u201cMaybe,\u201d Marianne said distractedly. This was the first sign. Whatever future event she was meant to predict would happen tomorrow.<\/p>\n \u201cI worry about you,\u201d Stephen said after a minute of silence. \u201cYou need to get out of the house, do some volunteer work or something.\u201d<\/p>\n If only the answer were that simple. \u201cYes, I should do some volunteer work.\u201d<\/p>\n Stephen stood up, \u201cI\u2019d better get to the office.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cBye,\u201d Marianne called softly after him. She did not think he heard her.<\/p>\n \u201cMom, are you ok?\u201d Gabrielle asked, \u201cI need to ask you something.\u201d<\/p>\n Marianne turned her attention to her beautiful fourteen-year-old daughter, pretending for her sake that nothing was wrong. She even tried to convince herself that it was only today\u2019s sign that had her down, nothing more substantial than that. Most of her knew better.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat do you need?\u201d Marianne asked. Marianne was determined that her daughter have a good, normal life, untouched by the troubles of her own life. So far, it seemed to be working. Gabrielle was vivacious, energetic, and intelligent. She was on the cheerleading squad and in the school honor society.<\/p>\n \u201cCould I have a ride to school?\u201d Gabrielle asked.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat\u2019s wrong with the bus?\u201d<\/p>\n Gabrielle hesitated for a moment. \u201cI\u2019m sorry. If you\u2019re upset I can just take the bus.\u201d<\/p>\n Marianne cursed herself silently, \u201cI\u2019m fine, really. What\u2019s going on?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI just want to get there early. I have to talk to a teacher about a project.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAll right,\u201d Marianne went to get her keys. Half an hour of idle chatter with her daughter would at least keep her mind off other things.<\/p>\n #<\/p>\n Upon her return, Marianne went to the secret room under the garage; one she had commissioned herself during the design phase of the house several years earlier. Her husband had given her free reign to design and decorate the house, so not even he was aware of the room\u2019s existence. He had hoped that the project would give her something useful with which to occupy her time.<\/p>\n A single, incandescent bulb attempted to provide enough light for the small, windowless room, but the lack of light was not the true source of darkness for the room. The walls were lined with shelves containing books, candles, jars of potion ingredients, spell books, pendants, and charms. In the center of the room, resting atop a wooden podium, sat a large leather bound book open to about halfway through.<\/p>\n Marianne ignored all the trinkets and went straight for the leather bound book. Nothing along the walls had ever worked for her anyway; they were just the attempts of a desperate woman to make her life better. The book contained her true secret.<\/p>\n Marianne flipped to the first empty page and wrote, very clearly, at the top of the page, \u201cApril 1st, 2004.\u201d She wrote the number one along the left-hand side of the page and described, in as much detail as possible, the first sign and how it had come to her.<\/p>\n She would not allow her hand to tremble as she made her notes. Every curve she made, every line she wrote had to be perfect. Her hand only began to tremble when she finished making the final stroke and lifted the pen from the page. She put the pen down and began flipping randomly through the book, noting some of her previous entries. She had been making entries in a journal for twenty-six years, ever since she was ten-years-old.<\/p>\n Every prediction had come true.<\/p>\n Every prediction save those that were not yet due to happen, Marianne reminded herself. She came upon a prediction she had made two years earlier that was not due to come to pass for another two hundred years. She shuddered at the foreknowledge of death and destruction she possessed. If only there was anything she could do to stop it from happening.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat a useless ability!\u201d Marianne yelled.<\/p>\n Her grandmother, the only person she knew with this curse, had died far too young to be of much use to her now. She had only ever offered the rhyme as an explanation for why the futures they saw could not be changed. There was no one she had ever been able to talk to. Not even her husband, though she had told him about the curse.<\/p>\n There is Jacob, Marianne reminded herself. Her brother did not understand precisely, but he believed her. Her younger brother at least gave her an ear for listening and a shoulder for crying.<\/p>\n The thought of Jacob caused her heart to ache again, though. When she was a child, she had decided simply to not acknowledge the signs. She had thought that if she ignored them she would be just like everyone else. She had learned the hard way that when she ignored the peaceful signs, they grew violent in an attempt to gain her attention.<\/p>\n What a stupid prediction it had led to. Her parents would be surprising them with a puppy that afternoon, and Marianne refused to see all the dogs that had been put in her path. She could not miss the one that attacked her brother on their way home from school, though. It nearly killed him before one of the neighbors shot it and called an ambulance.<\/p>\n Jacob still had the scars all over his face and body. He had yet to meet a woman who could see past them. At least he had managed to be successful in his career. The brilliant boy was now a lawyer living in the Washington, D.C. area, not far from her.<\/p>\n Not long after Jacob\u2019s attack, Marianne had decided to keep a journal. She also decided to do her part to look for the signs so that they would never attack anyone she loved again.<\/p>\n #<\/p>\n When Marianne finished her entry she headed upstairs to try the television for more signs. As soon as she sat back in the recliner her black and white patchwork cat, Quilt, jumped on her lap, demanding attention. She granted it, stroking the cat\u2019s shiny fur until it purred. Quilt was such a good friend to her, always showing affection when she needed it most. She had fallen asleep with the cat curled up beside her many times lately, particularly with Stephen gone so much of the time. He would return home from the office so late that he would sleep in the guest room so as not to disturb her when he came in.<\/p>\n Marianne focused her attention back on the television. A newscaster was saying, \u201cFive children were found dead in their home on the 2100 block of Maple last night. Investigators suspect their mother, 32-year-old Jackie\u2014\u201c<\/p>\n Marianne flipped to another news station.<\/p>\n \u201cPolice believe that the New York serial killer known as The Surgeon has taken another victim. Thirty-seven year old Maggie Johnson was found early this morning in her home with several organs skillfully cut out. So far, the surgeon has killed 7\u2014\u201c<\/p>\n Flip. This time Marianne found herself watching an attractive young doctor on a soap opera.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m sorry, Katherine, there was just nothing we could do for your mother.\u201d<\/p>\n Flip. This time she was watching a cartoon.<\/p>\n \u201cIs Goldie sleeping, daddy?\u201d a child asked, referring to a dead fish in a bowl.<\/p>\n Marianne switched off the television. Death, she thought. The familiar electric tingle responded to the thought as she had known it would. The signs were pointing to death, and according to the newspaper, this death would occur tomorrow.<\/p>\n #<\/p>\n Marianne grabbed a pile of folded laundry from the dryer and carried it to her daughter\u2019s room. The room was a disaster, as usual. The clean clothes she had folded so carefully would undoubtedly be joining the rest of the clothes on her floor as soon as Gabrielle came home from school.<\/p>\n As Marianne set the basket down, she knocked over a book that had been lying on the bed. She picked it up and saw that Gabrielle had left one of her schoolbooks behind. She was apparently reading \u201cJulius Caesar\u201d for her literature class. Marianne picked up the book from where it had fallen and opened it to the bookmark.<\/p>\n The familiar tingle went up Marianne\u2019s spine. The bookmark was set at the famous betrayal of Julius Caesar, but the sign could not be for death since she had already seen and understood that sign. As she thought of the betrayal aspect of the scene she felt the tingle again. She took a deep breath, set the book down on the bed, and then went to her secret room to make a note of the new sign.<\/p>\n #<\/p>\n Marianne waited impatiently while her computer established a dialup connection. Marianne did not know why she decided to go on line just then. The internet was swimming with signs. Ever since she had bought the computer ten years earlier, many of her signs had begun to come from the internet. They were everywhere: in the banner ads that blinked at her obnoxiously, in the e-mail messages she received, and even in the mistyped URL\u2019s she entered.<\/p>\n \u201cYou\u2019ve got mail!\u201d A cheerful voice announced when the connection was established.<\/p>\n Marianne wasted no time in checking the in box. She had received seven messages all together. Five of them were spam. One was an airline confirmation for her husband\u2019s trip to Peoria, Illinois for a high school reunion. The last was a message from an old college friend she had not heard from since her wedding.<\/p>\n #<\/p>\n Hi Marianne!<\/p>\n I know it\u2019s been a while since we\u2019ve spoken, but I ran across this the other day and it made me think of you. Isn\u2019t it kind of spooky? At first I thought it was you but then I remembered you lived in New York. Write me back and let me know how you\u2019re doing. I\u2019ll even be in the New York area next month, we should get together.<\/p>\n Sincerely,<\/p>\n Sarah Neinkamp<\/p>\n #<\/p>\n Beneath the message was a URL. Marianne clicked on it and waited for the page to open, thinking back as she did to the days when she and Sarah had been friends. How easily people lost touch. She would have to write her old friend and make plans to meet for lunch next month.<\/p>\n When the page came up Marianne saw that it was part of a local on-line newspaper. In fact, it was the obituary section. Marianne scanned down the alphabetical list of the recently deceased until she came upon the one Sarah surely meant for her to see \u2013 Marianne Weber.<\/p>\n \u201cOh, God, no! No, please! You wouldn\u2019t show me my own death! No one should know when their own death is coming!\u201d<\/p>\n Marianne left the room and began to run. The house was huge, and Marianne was out of shape, so she was out of breath by the time she reached the front door. Her lack of energy was not what kept her from opening the door and running out, though. It was the terrifying truth that there was no reason to run. There was no point.<\/p>\n \u201cNo!\u201d Marianne cried, slumping against the front door. She began to cry in huge, choking sobs. Sure, she had been depressed for years, but she was not ready to die. She had a daughter who needed her, if nothing else.<\/p>\n Marianne ran to the phone and dialed her brother\u2019s phone number. If anyone could help her, he could.<\/p>\n Help how? \u201cJacob?\u201d Marianne asked when she heard her brother\u2019s voice on the phone.<\/p>\n \u201cGood God, Marianne, what\u2019s the matter? Is Stephen ok? Gabrielle?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m going to die!\u201d Marianne said, her voice shaking as she tried unsuccessfully to hold back tears.<\/p>\n \u201cPlease, Marianne, slow down and tell me what\u2019s happened,\u201d Jacob said.<\/p>\n Slowly, Marianne managed to get through the entire story. As soon as she finished Jacob told her he was on his way and he would be at her house sometime that evening. When he hung up, Marianne was once again left alone with her dark thoughts.<\/p>\n Perhaps she should welcome death. After all, the signs had made her miserable for years. She had seen countless tragedies that she had not been able to prevent. Sometimes the attempt to prevent tragedies actually caused them to come about! Self-fulfilling prophecies, she had heard them called. Most of the time, though, people simply did not believe her.<\/p>\n To be fair, Marianne had not just seen terrible events. For example, she had seen the results of every presidential election for as long as she could remember. She knew the results of future elections in which the candidates themselves did not even know they were running. She had seen the scandals surrounding President Nixon and his subsequent resignation. She had also seen relatively simple things, like the adoption of a dog, a friend\u2019s broken leg, and the results of important tests.<\/p>\n But many signs had pointed to horrific events, even on a large scale. She had seen the Challenger explosion, the World Trade Center bombing, the Oklahoma City bombing, and the 9\/11 tragedy. All these she had seen ahead of time but had been unable to stop.<\/p>\n Since she had grown up, she did not even try any longer. As a child she had gone to the police many times with stories of murders, assaults, or robberies that were about to take place. Several times she had ended up in jail as a suspect because of her foreknowledge, but not once was she able to prevent anything.<\/p>\n \u201cWhy, God?\u201d Marianne asked again, \u201cWhat\u2019s the point? Why do I see things I can\u2019t change? Why would you show me my own death?\u201d<\/p>\n He did not answer.<\/p>\n #<\/p>\n \u201cUncle Jacob\u2019s coming?\u201d Gabrielle said when she came home from school that night.<\/p>\n \u201cYes, and I want you to stay at a friend\u2019s houses tonight. Mrs. McKenzie is already on her way over. Jacob and I have things to take care of.\u201d<\/p>\n She was trying to put on a brave face for her daughter. She had kept herself busy that afternoon by making a videotape for Gabrielle, essentially saying good-bye. It was the only thing she could think to do.<\/p>\n \u201cCan I talk to you about something tonight?\u201d Gabrielle asked.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat–?\u201d Marianne began, but the doorbell interrupted her.<\/p>\n \u201cThere she is.\u201d Marianne started toward the door, where she stopped and hugged her daughter tight, \u201cI love you. I love you so much.\u201d<\/p>\n Then Marianne hurried her daughter out the door, desperate for the last words her daughter ever heard from her to be words of love.<\/p>\n Stephen called to say he would be working late again that night, which suited Marianne. It gave her a chance to be alone with the only person she could confide in.<\/p>\n \u201cWe\u2019ve got this cabin on the beach, about an hour\u2019s drive from here.\u201d Marianne said when Jacob arrived, \u201cI think I\u2019d like to spend my last hours there.\u201d<\/p>\n Jacob nodded solemnly, and then helped Marianne take her things to his car. They drove most of the way in silence, only breaking the silence to ask for or give directions. Finally, about ten minutes from the cabin Jacob broke the silence.<\/p>\n \u201cCan\u2019t you just run away?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cFrom death?\u201d Marianne asked. She nearly laughed, \u201cHow would I manage to do that? A car accident, a plane crash, an elevator snaps, an earthquake, a fire, a floor, a deadly disease, a mugging, a drive-bye shooting; all these could kill me. There is not a place in this universe that is safe from death.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThe signs weren\u2019t more specific?\u201d Jacob asked, \u201cI mean, if you knew you would die in a car accident you could stay at home and not go out.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThen an out of control car would run into my living room.\u201d Marianne said, \u201cBesides, the signs weren\u2019t specific. The only thing I haven\u2019t been able to work in is the betrayal. For all I know, it\u2019s a sign for something else. Then again, my death could be caused by the betrayal.\u201d<\/p>\n Jacob did not reply because they had reached the cabin, \u201cSomeone\u2019s already here.\u201d He said, noticing a 2003 BMW parked in the driveway.<\/p>\n \u201cThat\u2019s Stephen\u2019s car.\u201d Marianne said as a terrible new suspicion washed over her.<\/p>\n Jacob\u2019s mouth dropped open, \u201cWe shouldn\u2019t go in.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes, we should\u201d Marianne said, her shoulders slumping resignedly, \u201cI\u2019ve got to see.\u201d<\/p>\n Marianne stepped out of the car and walked up the front steps of the cabin. She felt somewhat comforted by the presence of Jacob only a few feet behind her, and he did not interfere with her movements. Slowly, her hand trembling a little bit, she fit the key in the lock and opened the door.<\/p>\n \u201cStephen.\u201d Marianne croaked, her eyes filling with tears as she saw precisely what she had known she would see, had feared she would see.<\/p>\n Stephen and a young red haired woman were lying on the living room floor, completely naked. A fire glowed in the hearth and romantic music was emanating from the stereo. A half-empty bottle of champagne lay between them.<\/p>\n \u201cMarianne!\u201d Stephen exclaimed. The young woman tried to cover herself with a blanket, \u201cWhat are you doing here?\u201d he asked lamely.<\/p>\n Marianne did not answer. She simply turned and ran back to the car, with Jacob following behind her.<\/p>\n \u201cWait, I can explain!\u201d Stephen cried.<\/p>\n Marianne stepped inside the car and slammed the door shut. A moment later Jacob was inside too, starting the car and putting it into reverse.<\/p>\n \u201cCan\u2019t we talk about this?\u201d Stephen asked.<\/p>\n Marianne sunk low in the passenger seat as if trying to hide, whether from Stephen or from herself, she had no idea. The tears began to flow freely again as Jacob silently drove them back toward the city.<\/p>\n #<\/p>\n \u201cMaybe I\u2019ll be killing myself.\u201d Marianne said when they entered her estate.<\/p>\n \u201cDon\u2019t talk like that.\u201d Jacob said, \u201cYou\u2019re stronger than that.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAm I?\u201d Marianne asked. She did not really know if she could agree.<\/p>\n \u201cPlease, Marianne, don\u2019t scare me like that.\u201d Jacob said.<\/p>\n What did it matter? He knew she was going to die. How did the manner of her death matter?<\/p>\n \u201cDon\u2019t you want to live?\u201d Jacob asked.<\/p>\n \u201cOf course!\u201d Marianne yelled. She had not meant to yell. She immediately apologized.<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s ok.\u201d Jacob told her, hugging her, \u201cNo one should have to see when they will die. It\u2019s not something a person should know.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDo you think Stephen is going to try to kill me?\u201d Marianne asked.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat makes you think that?\u201d Jacob asked.<\/p>\n \u201cHis betrayal.\u201d Marianne said, \u201cRemember, I told you about the betrayal.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI remember.\u201d<\/p>\n Marianne let go of her brother and began to pace back and forth, thinking. She had never been able to change the future, true, but that did not mean she could not change other events effected by the future she knew would happen. For example, her husband might kill her, but she could keep him from getting any of her money. Her father\u2019s inheritance had only come through a few months before and she would see to it that Stephen never saw a penny.<\/p>\n \u201cI need your help.\u201d Marianne said to her brother.<\/p>\n #<\/p>\n Stephen never came home that night. He called her the next morning to say he would come over and pack a few things before his trip, but otherwise that they should probably talk when he returned. Marianne agreed, not letting on that she would not be alive when he returned.<\/p>\n Marianne and Jacob stayed up all night completing the new will, which gave all her money to Gabrielle with Jacob as trustee. They filed the official paperwork early the next morning then left a copy in her safe deposit box.<\/p>\n When Marianne returned home, she saw that Stephen had already come and gone. He left a note saying he was sorry he had missed her but he would be back soon. She tore up the paper into dozens of tiny pieces and tossed it in the trashcan.<\/p>\n The message light was blinking on the answering machine when Marianne walked into the kitchen. She pressed it and heard the voice of the high school nurse saying, \u201cThis is Mrs. Thomas from St. Mary\u2019s High School. Gabrielle never came to school today and I was calling to make sure everything was all right. Please give me a call at 555-2394.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThat\u2019s not like her.\u201d Marianne said, worry for herself temporarily displaced by worry for her daughter.<\/p>\n She turned, intending to head back toward the living room, when she saw Jacob blocking the entrance. He clutched Stephen\u2019s handgun in gloved hands.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat are you doing?\u201d Marianne whispered, her heart accelerating to a dangerous level.<\/p>\n \u201cI suppose I should just get it over with,\u201d Jacob said, \u201cbut I feel I at least owe you an explanation.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhy?\u201d Marianne managed to ask. Part of her mind was saying this is it, this is the end, but another part, a newly awakened part, was not ready to let go yet. That part kept saying, keep him talking, just keep him talking.<\/p>\n \u201cMoney.\u201d Jacob said.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat do you mean? You got half of dad\u2019s fortune.\u201d Marianne tried to note, out of the corner of her eyes, whether there were any weapons nearby. There were knives on the counter, but they were several feet away and her brother held a gun.<\/p>\n \u201cWith enough money I figure a girl might even marry a man as ugly as me.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThat wouldn\u2019t be real.\u201d Marianne protested. What did she care about his happiness at this point? Her brother had betrayed her. Or had he? Marianne thought back to what her brother had just said and wondered if he had meant something else by it. Did he still blame her for his disfigurement? Had he held that grudge for so long?<\/p>\n Then Marianne realized something else. This was the betrayal, not her husband\u2019s affair. The other had happened last night, on April 1st, not on April 2nd.<\/p>\n \u201cHow did you know I would change my will to make you trustee?\u201d Marianne asked, \u201cYou couldn\u2019t have planned this. You didn\u2019t know until I saw the signs.\u201d Or had he been waiting for an in like this? Maybe he had been planning something else but this worked better?<\/p>\n \u201cI sent you the signs.\u201d Jacob admitted, \u201cThe newspaper, the e-mail, they were my doing.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThe e-mail was from an old college friend.\u201d Marianne protested, \u201cAnd how did you fix the newspaper?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI paid the delivery boy, told him it was an April fool\u2019s joke.\u201d Jacob said, \u201cAs for the e-mail, it\u2019s pretty easy to change the from field.\u201d<\/p>\n Marianne had not known that. She wondered how many other e-mails she might have received from people who were not who they said they were.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat about the T.V.? And the book?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDeath and T.V.? Who could ever have predicted that?\u201d Jacob laughed, \u201cI didn\u2019t do the book, but I suppose it could have really been a sign.\u201d<\/p>\n It had really been a sign, Marianne thought stubbornly. She had felt the spine tingling sensation with the newspaper, the T.V., the book, and the e-mail. They had turned out to be signs, even if Jacob had planted them.<\/p>\n \u201cBut how did you know that I\u2019d change my will?\u201d Marianne asked, trying to find new ways of keeping him talking.<\/p>\n \u201cEveryone knew Stephen was cheating on you.\u201d Jacob told her, \u201cI think Gabrielle knows. Everyone but you. All I had to do was point it out. I must say, it worked better than I could have hoped.\u201d<\/p>\n She had felt the spine tingling sensation upon reading the obituary, hadn\u2019t she? Marianne was suddenly struck with a moment of doubt. She had never mistaken a sign before, but then again she had never felt a series of signs predicting her own death.<\/p>\n \u201cI just can\u2019t believe it.\u201d Marianne said, playing for time. Her eyes floated to the knives again.<\/p>\n \u201cGood bye.\u201d Jacob said. \u201cNoooooooooooo!\u201d Marianne heard someone scream.<\/p>\n Jacob fired, but Marianne heard the bullet crack the wall behind her. From behind Jacob, Gabrielle rushed at him with a steel baseball bat. She swung it, hard, hitting her uncle in the side. Marianne heard the audible crack of Jacob\u2019s ribs breaking as he fell to the ground.<\/p>\n The gun went off again. Marianne grabbed the butcher knife and flew at her brother, all the while terrified that her daughter had been hit.<\/p>\n \u201cLeave her alone!\u201d Gabrielle screamed. She hit Jacob with the bat again, this time cracking his skull. Marianne dropped the knife when she saw the gun drop from Jacob\u2019s hands. She picked it up and pocketed it.<\/p>\n \u201cGabrielle! Are you all right?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m fine, are you ok?\u201d Gabrielle asked, \u201cThe bullet hit there.\u201d She pointed at a place in the wall that now had a bullet hole through it.<\/p>\n \u201cYes, but-\u201c Marianne went to check Jacob for a pulse.<\/p>\n \u201cHe\u2019s dead.\u201d Gabrielle said.<\/p>\n \u201cHow do you know?\u201d Marianne asked. She searched for any sign of life, but found none.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019ve been seeing the signs for it since yesterday.\u201d Gabrielle told her mother, \u201cI knew I would kill him, but I couldn\u2019t imagine why. I tried to tell you about it, but-\u201c<\/p>\n \u201cOh, Gabrielle, I\u2019m so sorry!\u201d Marianne said, holding her daughter tight. How had she missed such an important thing? How had she failed to notice that her daughter was feeling this pain? She must have been too caught up in her own pain, too caught up in her desire for her daughter to lead a normal life. \u201cI never should have brushed you off, not even with the signs of my own death approaching.\u201d<\/p>\n But death had not come. Nor would it come, at least not for Marianne. She knew now that she had truly misinterpreted a sign.<\/p>\n \u201cI love you, mom.\u201d Gabrielle said.<\/p>\n \u201cI love you too.\u201d Marianne replied, hugging her daughter tighter.<\/p>\n Everything in Marianne\u2019s life had been about the signs. The signs said something would happen so it was inevitable. But there were many things the signs never predicted. No sign predicted her husband\u2019s affair. No sign had ever predicted her failed life. No sign predicted her apparently strained relationship with her daughter. For it must have been strained if she had never known that Gabrielle, too, could see the signs.<\/p>\n \u201cI think I have a lot of changes to make in my life.\u201d Marianne said, \u201cBut now I have to call the police.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019ll do it.\u201d Gabrielle volunteered, dashing to the phone before Marianne had a chance to rise.<\/p>\n \u201cThen call your father.\u201d Marianne said, \u201cTell him he needs to come home.\u201d<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Signs By: Christine Amsden No matter what you do, nor how hard you try, the signs will come. We don\u2019t always know when, we don\u2019t always know why, but futures can\u2019t be changed by you or I. Marianne repeated the rhyme her grandmother had taught her so many years ago as she trudged […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":4,"featured_media":0,"parent":0,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","template":"","meta":{"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-1303","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry","post"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/christineamsden.com\/wordpress\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/1303","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/christineamsden.com\/wordpress\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/christineamsden.com\/wordpress\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/christineamsden.com\/wordpress\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/4"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/christineamsden.com\/wordpress\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=1303"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/christineamsden.com\/wordpress\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/1303\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1305,"href":"https:\/\/christineamsden.com\/wordpress\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/1303\/revisions\/1305"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/christineamsden.com\/wordpress\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=1303"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\nnor how hard you try,
\nthe signs will come.
\nWe don\u2019t always know when,
\nwe don\u2019t always know why,
\nbut futures can\u2019t be changed by you or I.
\n<\/em><\/p>\n
\nHe cocked the gun. Marianne dove for the knives.<\/p>\n