Rules of the Soul

Chapter 1.

Salcolm Krinski stared at the mirror before him, it’s reflection, tired and worn staring back at him. It revealed so much to him, the lines, the sad eyes. Like the ticking of a large hollow clock a moment only reflected a moment. The passing of time was merely the passing of time. Each tick and each tock resonating painfully with Salcolm.

There was a bottle on the table at his side, these days there was always a bottle at his side. He grabbed it by its neck and put it to his lips. Took a deep swig, filled his mouth full of bourbon and then let it slide down his throat. He was getting old, he knew that. There was no reason anymore, there seemed no real reason for anything. It’s not like he was saving himself for anyone, or anything. There was not one moment that made a difference to himself. There were many moments that made a huge difference to many people, nothing that made a difference to himself.

He looked back in the mirror, so much was missing, ten minutes ahead, twenty years behind.

He remembered the day’s events clearly, with disdain. It was his childhood he yearned to picture, his teenage years, his parents. But somehow he had misplaced it all, careless or stupid, probably a bit of both. It had only been recently that he thought it was a strange thing to happen, but many strange things happened. He assumed that it was because his head was full of other people’s moments, something had to be pushed out, something that the world did not need. Salcolm wished he had those moments more than any other moments, he wanted something to cherish. He never seemed to have anything that was his, his to cherish. He closed his eyes and tried to clear his head, did not work, he took another swig of bourbon, a little better but still that day was crystal clear in his mind.

He had avoided the playgrounds, the parks and the gardens. He thought that if he did not see it, it would not happen. If it happened and he was not there then he would not care. It was the children, always children; tragedy with children always makes us jump. There is so much more to be taken away, not just that but it is like an innocence that is dashed. Salcolm thought that if he avoided these places then he was less likely a witness this tragedy. But it seemed tragedy would follow him around.

He was in no mood for any of his preludes, any of his instinctive flashes. He just wanted to feel the warm sun on his skin. Spring was on its way in with the occasional warm day but winter would bring clouds and cold winds tomorrow. He merely wanted to walk the streets with just his own thoughts. He wanted to be Salcolm and only Salcolm. He wanted to watch his feet shuffle along the pavement and have the warm sun on his naked arms and the back of his neck.

Surely that wasn’t much? To live and breathe, eat and drink and do merely that. But it seemed the more he tried to avoid his special Gift the more it came and bit him on the arse. There was a tingling in the back of his head and he knew there and then that this was going to be a whopper. It did not matter if he had his eyes closed or open, it would show itself anyway.

He closed his eyes tight though, he wanted to block it out. The sunlight shone through his eyelids and the world was not black but dark red. Shadows of images flushed and faded, flickered this way and that until they became more distinct than reality itself.

Blue and red flashing lights, was that an ambulance or a police car? He soon heard the siren and he had to think which it was. That was not what his vision was focusing on though. A car speed through the crowded street. Salcolm gathered it was being chased, a police car. The traffic was blocking up its way and Salcolm wondered whether it would stop but on to the pavement it climbed. It was going very fast and people were literally jumping from it path. A couple of people were clipped as they became airborne. Salcolm knew that was not the reason this was shown to him, something so insincere as a broken leg or bruising was not worth the moment. Salcolm saw the face of the lady, like a rabbit caught in the scope of headlights. There was a child in her arms and the world seemed to slow down to picture the fear and grief on the lady’s face. Then the car crushed her into the pole that was directly behind her. She was stiff for a second then her head lolled and her arms relaxed letting the baby roll onto the hot bonnet of the car.

Salcolm’s eyes opened as he was brought back into a fast paced reality. His heart was thumping at a hundred or so beats per second. There was always a moment, maybe it was the adrenaline that raced through him, the desperation that he quickly felt or maybe he was trying to pinpoint the place of the incident. He guessed it was a little of the three. He could already hear the siren, he could already hear the sound of the engine. While he was standing there looking around he could hear the people screaming as the charging car veered its ugly head around a corner with a deafening screech. Suddenly he saw the lady, nursing the baby in her arms with the pole directly behind her. He started screaming the word Lady and started sprinting towards her. It took her a few seconds to look up but she looked up at him running towards her, screaming for her to get out of the way. She turned and looked around and Salcolm saw that expression. A millisecond before the car cut her in two.

Salcolm was still meters away, as the baby rolled onto the bonnet of the car. He stopped dead in his tracks and turned away. His gaunt white figure the only one heading in the opposite direction of this tragedy. The only one that knew already that there was no Father to the baby, there were no Grandparents. He did not know why he knew but he knew that this was not about the mother but about the child. There was much more pain than this moment and the only person that knew it could have been prevented was walking away.

Salcolm stopped by a store and bought a bottle of bourbon. He had a lot to think about, he had a lot to forget.

Salcolm stood in front of the mirror, in the sheer reality of the end of the day he did not care about the mother or the child. This was a moment, a moment among thousands. He had failed the task, and even that was not the forefront of his train of thought. Even though the steaming car sat before his vision like a token of magnitude. The screaming baby, laying there and the mother’s torso propped up as a silent witness. This was only a picture among many that he was drowning away.

He had millions of questions and no one to ask. The first was, why me?

This was no holy grail, this was no insight into the universe. This was merely thousands of tragic events that he can or cannot prevent. Even if the event was prevented; the prelude, his vision would still remain. Burned into his memory like today’s wide-eyed, frozen face.

His vision never incorporated himself saving, or desperately trying to save whoever it was that was in need. Surely if it was an accurate depiction it would have himself saving or unable to save whoever it was.

Which came to Salcolm’s next question, why not him? He would look at things and see minutes ahead, why not himself? The Earth spun and circled around a star, clocks ticked and tocked and Salcolm was stationary. There to view and to participate but only that. He was no member, the world proceeded without any input from him. He wanted to be normal, he wanted an event like today’s to go by like he was one of the people rushing to the scene. He wanted to be inside the humanity loop.

He wanted his childhood back. Salcolm thought that with every vision came two realities, two sets of memories. What was supposed to happen and what actually eventuated. As with today’s memory they were only slightly different, but still if it was exactly the same he would have two memories, the vision and the reality. Maybe his head could not hold both. Maybe old memories were being squeezed out. He did not know. All he knew was that it was another reason to be singled out, to be apart from everyone else. Our young years shape us, Salcolm felt unshaped.

He looked in the mirror and saw nothing, nothing that made him him. Except for the relentless human tragedy that he could or could not prevent. A gift that made him special, a gift that made him nothing.

That was the other thing, the countless human tragedy. Which person in the world can say they have witnessed so many tragedies that a number cannot be placed upon it? Everywhere Salcolm went, something would happen. It was like he was the world’s bad luck charm.

Chapter 2.

From the moment Salcolm opened his bloodshot eyes he reasoned with a bursting pain in his head that today may be carried out better inside. Most of the day could lapse into silence from his bed, at least until his hangover had dissolved into a mild throbbing. But he was not leaving his apartment, maybe even tomorrow as well. Television or a book would have to suffice. Things were less likely to go pear shaped if he was not roaming around. He could get his daily dose of violence and tragedy from the news anyway. He would while away the hours doing nothing at all, after all he had really nothing to do.

Salcolm had no job, no love life and not a great social calendar. He had had jobs before, something would always go awry. Either he would jump into action and save someone’s hand from being removed. The people around him would not be aware of the upcoming event and find his pushing and shoving offensive. Or he would fail to save people from their random and inexplicable tragedies and the blame would eventually rest on his head, things went wrong always around him.

He had not even ventured into having a love life, his life was like a situation comedy written by a sadistic madman. The straight-man (or woman) would always get hurt. Then there would always be the moment where he would have to explain his oddities.

So the day went by with glorious silence. Salcolm’s head hurt so much that he could barely think, always a good thing. He did not even bother with dinner.

The next day’s sun rose and set without Salcolm even stepping near the door. He would occasionally go to the window and watch people scattering this way and that going on with their lives. He needed silence, he needed to be nowhere.

Thus the sun set and Salcolm started feeling a twinge in his stomach. He had no food in the apartment. These days it was usually cheaper eating out than a single man to shop and cook just for himself. By this time he would usually be down, around the corner at the local restaurant eating and talking with one of his few friends.

As if by coincidence a knock came at the door, startled Salcolm into nearly soiling himself. He just stared at the door. Visitors were something that rarely happened.

Salcolm, open the bloody door would ya. It was Legas, the person that Salcolm usually bumped into every night at their local restaurant. Come on, I brought food.

Salcolm had known Legas for as long as he could remember. Did not know how they met, he was just always around. Legas also knew about Salcolm’s Gift and again Salcolm did not know how that began. Things in Salcolm’s life just were, he had too many questions to start prying into everything.

Salcolm opened the door and Legas was on the other side, a few inches taller than Salcolm and a lot better dressed.

Man, you took your time! Legas stepped in with a white plastic bag of takeaway.

Sorry, was dozing.

Didn’t see ya last night, not to worry. Did not see you tonight and I say’s that you’ll be sulking around you’re flat and probably hungry by now.

Yeah, yeah, I am. Salcolm scratched the back of