The Wooden Chair

The dark wooden chair sat in the middle of the room, where it always sat.

It was considered strange. I know that's what people think of me and quite frankly I don't care.

We all do what we can and cope in the ways that work for us.

That chair wasn't just any old chair. It was one I'd had specially commissioned. If I could have brought the image in my head to life myself, I would have, but detailed carving representing select special moments were well beyond my abilities.

I had however, chosen the wood for its rich red tones. Mother had loved this type of wood. She had loved nature in general. There was always the biggest smile on her face if you caught her dancing in the rain or amongst the trees.

I have a surprising number of memories tied to dance. They of course changed over the years, from being a babe in arms to being spun around hand in hand, and finally spinning joyfully alone, peaceful at the centre of it all.

Memories were powerful, they give me an anchor point. People didn't understand just how important they were.

When they asked me to predict, to see the unknown, I could get swept away in the mystery of it all.

I have no idea how I do what I do. Not really. It is a gift they tell me. A thing that came to me late. When it first happened I had no idea what was going on. I had no way of navigating the visions. It was like being swept up in a tornado, or at least how I imagine it to be.

My body felt untethered to anything. My mind spun, wild images out of focus.

The very first time it happened, I lost consciousness.

Terrified I retreated into myself. Closed myself off to everyone. Somehow in it all I'd fallen and hit my head. I'd ended up with a headache for days. Whilst others insisted it was due to the bump on the head, I knew it was because of what I'd seen.

Of course, I'd tried to warn people. To tell them to take care, but they'd laughed. When what I'd predicted came to pass they became scared.

I was ostracised. Retreating further into my own space.

The third time it happened, (as the second was much the same as the first) I'd not lost consciousness. I'd been caught travelling from vision to vision, noting, discarding, deciding I didn't care.

When I felt particularly lost in it all I called out to my mother.

Into the whir of the visions, she came into focus; dancing in the rain. Her spinning a counterpoint to the blur of images. In that moment I wanted nothing more than to experience that same joy mother had. I made myself stand and hold my arms out, as she used to.

As I started to turn, an unexpected thing happened. The confusion vanished. I heard a voice.

Her voice.

'Not all futures are good and happy, but people can be steered away from some if they but choose to listen. You have to get them to listen,' the voice said.

When the last notes of the voice faded, so too did the visions. A slight headache remained, but nothing like the previous ones.

This was when I hit upon the idea of the chair.

The chair served two functions; to give me an element of safety during the visions, and to connect me deeply to my mother. Somehow without being told, I know that connection is what grounds me in this reality and thus not get lost in the other.

Slowly through methods mor miss than hit I found a way to filter through the futures and get people to listen.

In the beginning I bartered, information for the items I needed to survive. This was how I got the chair. It was my first ask. It may not have seemed like a necessity, but it has proven itself time and again.

It has been the one piece of furniture that has been with me through every incarnation of my life. From those very humble beginnings in little more than shacks or worse, to my current residence on a large tract of land bordering on the edge of a forrest.

Nature is still so important to the core of me. At one time I did attempt urban living, it had been an abject failure.

Now, even though I have no need of the work, I don't turn many away who seek me out. Those whose quests would take me onto the darker paths I pass upon. Otherwise I have found the pressure needs to be released.

If I don't use my gift willingly, I have to ride teh hurricane involuntarily. When that happened I have no control, and I like control. Not to mention I'm no fan of the days following requiring me to be stuck in bed.

So I use it to my advantage. As much as I have earned, as much as I've seen, as long as I've lived, I know without a doubt, this is my destiny.

Until today that is.

The moment I saw you. The slump of your shoulders. The desperation in your expression. I know you. You are the only one who can help me.

My cycle has to end.