Telepathic Cinematic

She's hyperventilating.

Grasping for breath like drowning underwater clutching her chest. It went on for a minute or two — her first panic attack she would later realize.

Were all of her dreams coming true or was she schizophrenic? That was the question.

There were voices in her head. Not her own.

I know the conclusion you've drawn, but hear me out - listen.

It began with a walk in the park, her daily movement of solitude. She heard whispers cut through the idyll silence.

They were right behind her.

She turned around. No one was there.

She's so beautiful.

I can't take my eyes off her.

Look at the way she walks.

How her curves sway.

She stopped walking.

Wait - can she hear us?

Impossible, we're too far away.

She looks around.

What the fuck - she can hear us?

She didn't turn around, wanting to catch them in the act.

She has super hearing or something.

Her mind is quiet while she waits for their next words. They don't come.

She thinks to herself, that was fucking weird, do I have super hearing?

She senses she's being followed by her new admirers.

She hears them say, how crazy we were just looking for new content to film.

I kind of want to film her.

We shouldn’t.

I know but look at her.

She stops walking again turning around quickly.

She can definitely hear us - stop!

She continues walking thinking to herself, what the fuck is happening?

She continues down the street, looking back every few minutes to ensure she's not being followed. She sees nothing each time but can still hear them in her head.

By the time she reaches the front door she turns around one final time before entering. The coast is clear.

She takes off her boyfriend's oversized grey hoodie revealing a matching white athletic set and fit body.

Preferring to hide her beauty in public to avoid unwanted attention. She hated feeling like a piece of meat.

Sparking a joint she takes a puff and plays her favorite song, "You & Me" by Disclosure (Flume remix) filled the room. She looks around the apartment in distress.

No matter how much she cleans it's never enough.

She's given up on the idea that home will ever be her sanctuary like it once was.

Living with a boyfriend isn't for the weak - but she loved him. More than anyone she's ever loved so she was willing to sacrifice her peace for his presence.

Washing the dishes tears gently stream down her cheeks, wiping them away with soapy hands, shaking her head, she says "Crying wasn't going to change a damn thing - hey Google, volume up"

Swaying her hips, bobbing her head, she smiles through the tears, whilst doing the dishes.

Music was her therapy and so were her walks.

She seems so sad, a voice in her head said.

She stops. Listening intently now.

I want to help her.

Me too.

She should be an actress.

At those words, she collapses into herself, crying - like a dam finally breaking.

Her greatest dream.

Someone else saw her potential.

The alchemy of beauty and pain with a purpose.

Woah she's fucking crying really hard after we said that.

Can she still hear us?

She nodded.

Silence...

We're content creators, we saw you in the park today, you inspired us, we want to help you!

She stands up, smiles, looks through the window.

Can we film you?

She smiles nodding.

How can you hear us?

"I don't know" she said "Can you hear me?"

We can't hear you.

She thinks to herself, super hearing, is that possible?

Her imagination runs wild. Superpowers. That can't be real, she thought.

This reminded her of something: Stranger Things.

She put on an episode.

She's watching Stranger Things, they said. What episode?

She looks out the window and puts up one pointer finger followed by another.

Season 1. Episode 1, they echoed.

She stared at the fingers in front of her: eleven.

Am I 11? But how?

Cross-legged on the sofa, she watched.

Two content creators looking for a story. They find a supernatural girl who wants to be an actress.

“Too good to be true,” she said aloud. “But what if it isn’t?”

She goes to the bedroom. Looks in the mirror. "If there's a chance this is real, I'm going to try."

She puts on her make-up like a ritual. Soft strokes of mascara, rose colored cheeks, a lip liner slightly deeper than her natural lip color, hint of pink gloss, and curls falling just so.

Fuck work, she thinks.

She's in corporate tech working from home. The sweetest job she’s ever had, but endlessly empty. She’s good at it because she forced herself to be.

Her parents raised her with a scaricity mindset. "Life is hard. You need to make enough money or it will be harder."

So being a broke artist was out of the question. But she always wondered...

If she could be successful doing things she hated like living in spreadsheet hell - what would happen if she applied herself where she was gifted? Creativity. Empathy. Performance.

She changed into low rise jeans and a pink off the shoulder top.

She took one last look in the mirror, inhaled, exhaled, and the corners of her lips turned slightly upward.

On the sofa by the window, she laced one white Converse.

Then it hit her.

She couldn't breathe. She took deep breaths but they felt shallow, like a sip of air when she was gasping.

Is she okay?

What's happening?

What should we do?

Should we come over?

Shut up, she thought — then said it aloud. “Shut the fuck up.”

Did she just tell us to shut the fuck up?

She's near crying, pressing her palms over her ears.

"I'm sorry" she whispered.

"I don't know what's happening to me. Just please shut the fuck up - get out of my head"

Silence.

She could breathe again still gasping for air.

She laced the other shoe.

She was about to walk out of the house, she turned to look out the window, then slumped on the floor which the couch against her back, holding her knees close to her chest.

"I'm okay. Everything's going to be okay. Hey google, play "Three Little Birds" by Bob Marley."

She listened, tears swelled in her eyes as she whisper-sang, “Every little thing’s gonna be all right.”

Her breathing hitched again.

She stood up quickly and said "Bitch no. We already did that" laughing at herself.

"Either I'm schizophrenic or all my dreams are coming true in the most unbelievable way"

She chose to believe in miracles.

She looked out the window and waved as if to say "come along".

She said "but let's play a game, don't let me see you"

Thinking she would let this mystery play out a little longer. She wasn't ready for her dream or nightmare to come true. Not yet...

She walked out the door with a pep in her step. Keys jingling melodically.

She never noticed before but on the sidewalk there were words etched in the cement, come what may, that oddly comforted her.

She sat in her dream car, a Mercedes C 300 convertible, tapped the button and felt the sky open. Looking in the rearview mirror she saw nothing.

"Here we go" she said.

Where are you going? she heard in her head.

"You'll see" she responded, "I'm taking you to my favorite place in the city"

She looked at the time, 5:55pm. She smiled to herself, "change" she said aloud.

She looked at the road unfolding before her, it would be sunset soon, "Perfect" she said.

We found you, a voice said.

She resisted looking in the rearview mirror and smiled.

She could see the beach stretch in front of her. The colors of sunset behind her, she peeked in the rearview mirror.

She saw them!

A white minivan behind her, one man driving, the other filming from the dash.

Could be a coincidence, she thought.

At the beach she ran for the water, far from them, needing space to understand the day.

"Wait. They can hear me now. It's not super hearing."

Telepathy, she thought wondering if her powers were growing.

She looked at the ocean expressionless.

"I'm fucked. I'm either telepathic or just fucking crazy"

She sat in the sand, knees against her chest holding them looser than before, watching the sunset.

When it was dark, she drove home in silence.

That day changed everything.

***

Weeks later she was forcibly admitted into a hospital.

She disappeared one night. Left her phone at home.

Came back the next evening, hair knotted and matted because it rained the night before, bruises and cuts on her body.

Her boyfriend worriedly asked where she had been - she wouldn't answer.

She got undressed and drew a bath.

Slowly lowering herself into the warm water, it burned her injuries, she winced at the pain but it also soothed her tired body.

She could hear music in her head. That was new. The rushing water sounded like radio static.

When she got out her boyfriend handed her his sweats and a sweater.

Once she was dressed he scooped her up in one sweeping motion and carried her to the car.

She didn't resist. She trusted him and was exhausted from the night before.

She walked for nearly 24 hours in the rain, talking to God, being initiated into a spiritual war, the voices in her head were her spirit guides, it was time for her to join - they would make her a beloved actress who would sway the collective consciousness towards good.

The fight between good and evil in Hollywood. Have you ever noticed the satanic undertones?

She was admitted into a hospital room with fluorescent flickering lights.

The doctors in crisp white coats came in. They asked her where she was the night prior.

She joked saying she was saving the world, traveling to parallel realities.

They didn't find it funny. They left the room this time they came back in with more doctors and nurses cornering her on the bed.

The energy shifted and they were telling her to take pills but didn't say what they were.

After she refused the medication three times they said, she could take it or they would inject it. She took them.

Then she fell asleep.

***

When she woke she was at home in her bed. His side of the bed was empty, her boyfriend left for work.

The voices were back.

It's time to make your dreams come true.

Confused, she replied "What?"

Check social media.

She opened TikTok.

The Telepathic Cinematic was posted to an account she's never seen before.

It was her!

The park, Stranger Things, the beach.

"It was real" she whispered.

Tears swelling in her lashes, she couldn't believe it.

"What about the hospital?" she wondered.

A bad dream, they answered.

Or maybe not a dream at all, but a glimpse into another version of herself — a parallel life bleeding through, the way physicists describe in the many-worlds theory.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

She turned towards the front door. Frozen.

Knock. Knock.

"It's us!"

She recognized those voices — out loud this time.

She yanked the door open, smiling so wide it felt unnatural.

"I'm Jocelyn" she said breathless.

"Christian" said the videographer.

"and I'm Richard" the driver said flamboyantly.

She hugged them both tightly. "I don't know what to say. This is so surreal"

“We tried practicing telepathy” Christian said, “We don’t have it without you.”

“Say something in your head,” Richard said.

Hello, Jocelyn thought sweetly.

They both jolted. Christian said “I don’t think I’ll ever get over that”.

“How does the video show my telepathy if it’s only in our heads?” she asked.

Richard glanced at the window. “The park” he said. “Christian was filming from far away. You were reacting to what we said.”

"So what, I could have been acting."

“Exactly,” Richard smiled. “We didn’t tell the world you had telepathy. We made a short fiction of the truth.”

“Jocelyn God has a plan for you. This was just the beginning."

"Do you remember the night you went missing?" Christian asked.

“Of course,” she said. “But I thought that was a bad dream.”

She looked down at the constellation of bruises and small cut on her wrist. The hospital wristband was gone. “What the fuck,” she whispered, sinking to the floor.

They sat beside her.

They said in unison. "We are your spirit guides"

“We didn’t know we were guides,” Christian said aloud. “But now we hear voices too. Not people. Not you. Something else. After you, we were open to it.”

She responded puzzled with anger simmering, "What do you mean?"

“There is a spiritual war, Jocelyn,” Richard said. “We’re here to help you.”

She shook her head. “No. No, no, no. I don’t want that. Give it to someone else.”

“Those who are chosen never want to be,” Christian said.

“But they are,” Richard continued. “You are.”

"I liked the other reality better" she said "The one I thought was a nightmare."

“What are you talking about?” Christian asked.

“Nothing,” burying her face in her knees and closing her eyes.

Blackness swallowed her.

***

When she looked up and blinked there were flashing lights.

"Jocelyn!"

"Jocelyn, look over here honey"

"You look stunning Jocelyn!"

Don’t worry, Christian said — somewhere...

Listen to our voices, Richard chimed in.

She smiled nervously and looked down, the small scar on her wrist from that night in the rain.

She looked around for her guides who had become her friends. She couldn't see them anywhere.

She was in a backless silk red dress on a red carpet.

It was her movie premiere.

She rushed off the carpet suddenly a cold hand gripped her arm.

She looked at the long skeletal fingers holding her, it was a firm grip, like a corpse's last clutch.

She looked up to find a tall, thin, pale woman with long black hair holding her.

She nearly jumped back in terror.

A cold smile crept on the woman's face.

Jocelyn smiled back.

"Where are you going Dear, is something wrong?" The woman asked.

Say nothing, they said in her head.

"Nothing at all, I just felt a little overwhelmed and need to pee" she laughed nervously.

"Don't stray too far" the woman cooed.

Jocelyn gulped forcing a smile. What the fuck is happening to me?

You're jumping timelines. Fast.

"Jumping timelines?" she said aloud.

Shut up! You can't say that! They'll find you, Christian hissed in her head.

Don't scare her, you're not helping, Richard cut in. Listen to me. You’re going to watch your movie. This is your first. You’re going to win an award — it’s that good. Mariana was your mentor. She’s the mark, Jocelyn.

Instantly she knew who, she felt the cold grip again.

Richard continued, This is what you were destined for. All your dreams are coming true. But at a price.

"A price" she whispered.

Suddenly the theatre went dark, she was sitting in a red velvet chair next to Mariana, a handsome man she didn't recognize was holding her hand, he smiled at her, "I'm so proud of you baby" as he kissed her cheek.

Marianna leaned over Jocelyn, pressed a finger to her lips, "shhh" handing her a glass of champagne.

Jocelyn sipped nervously and said in her head, Tell me what the fuck is going on right now or I'll scream. Wake up. Just wake up Jocelyn.

Christian said, This isn't a dream. Please stay calm. Your life depends on it.

Jocelyn watches the opening scene of her movie - she's walking down a dark hallway in the red silk dress she wore to the premiere, suddenly a flash of bright blood red oozed filling the screen, the title appears in black gothic text, The Devil's Daughter.

Richard says, Jocelyn, you have telepathy, so do others, you're going to hear voices that sound like ours but aren't, you need to discern intention before you act, okay?

"What?" she said aloud.

Mariana's cold hand grips her arm again. Tightly.

Jocelyn, I know it’s a lot, Richard continued. You’re an actress. Your name is Jocelyn. The year is 2030. It’s been five years since the night you went missing and we knocked on your door. This movie will make you famous. Mariana is your key to the inner circle.

Jocelyn's eyes widened.

Stay calm, Richard said, They’re not a myth. They pull strings. They hurt people for power. They control the rooms you want to enter. They own Hollywood, the media, governments, and their reach is global.

Jocelyn could feel her breath catching, Not right now. Please, not now.

Breathe, Christian said. In for four. Hold for seven. Out for eight. Again.

Jocelyn breathes.

What do I do, she whispered in her head as if that was no longer a safe space.

We're here. We'll be with you. But we can't meet in person anymore. We don't know what happens next either. You just have to know it's us, okay?

"Okay" she whispers aloud.

She looked at her phone. It was 11:11pm.

Cut to red.

The End.