In the depths of her childhood, at the tender age of 7, an unsettling gift awakened within her - the power to glimpse the impending demise of others.
Ghosts and ethereal apparitions became her companions, while the looming specter of death itself he...
A young woman found herself in a state of hyperventilation within the confines of the bus. Her breaths came in rapid succession, each attempt to catch her breath seeming futile.
Yet, elusive was the sensation of drawing in air. A pallor overcame her features, and with the passage of time, her countenance grew progressively ashen.
Whether she drew in long, deep breaths or emitted heavy, audible gasps, the fellow passenger seated ahead remained oblivious to her struggle. The blaring television in front of them drowned out any faint sounds.
Opting for a solitary corner, a haven of tranquility, proved to be a woeful miscalculation on her part. The peaceful solitude she sought had metamorphosed into a disturbing realm of torment.
The agent responsible for her distress remained an enigma. Hyperventilation, an outcome of abrupt panic or trauma, had seized her.
But what event had transpired to inflict such agony upon her? Did the televised news hold some eerie sway over her emotions?
Suddenly, a guttural exclamation ruptured the air. A gut-wrenching inhalation, more resonant than the news, erupted from her. It reverberated as if the maw of death itself beckoned.
Her labored intake of breath mimicked a soul gasping for life, struggling in a vacuum of oxygen deprivation. The intensity of her struggle seized the attention of all aboard.
"Someone, that girl in the corner, she's in distress!" cried out a passenger. "Is anyone aboard a medical professional?"
"Urgent assistance needed! SHE'S PALING BEFORE OUR EYES!"
As the relentless hyperventilation gripped her, veins snaked their way up her neck, bearing witness to her anguish. From her arms to her neck, these veins surged, her very skin contracting in response to her desperate breaths.
Beads of sweat emerged upon her forehead, tracing an ephemeral path down to her chin.
The breaths, now resembling desperate pleas, resonated like a prayer for salvation, akin to a soul beseeching death itself for a reprieve.
Panic rippled through the passengers, yet no medical aid was in sight for the beleaguered woman.
The bus came to an abrupt halt, stirred by the passenger's alarmed commotion in the face of her plight.
Observing the tumult, the bus driver edged closer to the afflicted woman.
"S-She's struggling to breathe," a passenger apprised the driver, who scanned the scene for a solution. What could he summon to her aid?
Finally, his gaze settled upon a remedy. Seizing it, he advanced toward the woman, who was on the precipice of surrendering to unconsciousness.
His salvation: a humble paper bag.
Taking his place beside the woman, he applied the paper bag over her nose and mouth, inviting her to breathe within its confines.
"Inhale and exhale will ya, slowly," he offered as guidance.
Though ensnared by panic, she complied, finding peace within the paper's confined space.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Gradually, color returned to her pallid skin, the engorged veins receding from view.
"Are you feeling better, kid?" queried the driver.
As the minutes passed, the woman's distress subsided, her respiration resuming a semblance of normalcy.
Collective relief emanated from her fellow passengers, a shared exhalation that mirrored her own.
"Keep the bag in place," the driver advised, retreating to his station.
The bus rumbled back to life, the woman's visage obscured by the paper bag, engendering an aura of unease among those who observed her.
Eventually, her equilibrium restored, fellow passengers rallied to her aid, providing water, a portable fan, and an anxiolytic.
In her hands, they placed a tablet intended to soothe and tranquilize, a gesture acknowledged with heartfelt gratitude.
"I.... thought I was gonna.... die," she reflected, consumed by the ordeal. "Were it not for the driver, my fate might have been sealed."
Amidst the depths of her laborious respiration, a drowning sensation had pervaded, as though she were cast adrift in a briney abyss, beseeching the cosmos for a gasp of life.
"I'm recuperating now... Thank you all for your kindness," she professed, her voice a balm for the frayed nerves of her compatriots. Still, their gaze lingered, colored by residual concern.
The television continued its broadcast, the image of a girl who perished leaping from a train haunting her consciousness. It defied comprehension that this selfsame girl now inhabited her own reality, her previous vision eerily incarnated.
While her existence had been punctuated by prescient foretellings, never had she borne witness to a prediction realized in such chilling fashion.
"It is this circumstance that begets dread and panic," she mused.
Her constitution somewhat restored, the paper bag relinquished its hold upon her countenance, permitting the flow of unrestricted breath. Though relief coursed through her, her fellow passengers retained their vigil.
As her destination neared, she signaled her intention to disembark. Expressing gratitude to her benefactors, she stood and exited the bus.
Bestowing a broad smile upon the driver, she articulated her profound appreciation.
"Mister, your actions have granted me life anew. For this, I really thank you so much. You saved me. I owe you."
The driver, unfazed, responded with humility, his words borne of experience.
"My daughter, too, once wrestled with the throes of hyperventilation. This is a battle I know well. Farewell, and tread cautiously on your journey."
The bus resumed its course, the distance between them expanding. Yet, the woman's outstretched hand sought connection, her parting gesture imbued with gratitude.
The night's obscurity cloaked her path, bereft of artificial illumination. Through this inky expanse, she navigated with familiarity, homeward bound.
Her residence, unassuming yet familiar, lay before her. Neither opulent nor impoverished, her life nestled in the contours of middle-class existence.
Her father, a technician, and her brother, a student turned barista and weekend laborer, composed her immediate family.
