One Shots Book

Paralyzed (No Ships)

People involved: Person A, stranger, best friend
Ships: none
Word count: 1128
Idea: Person A sees things that others cannot. And right now, he's paralyzed with fear because of it. Read on to find out why.
Extra notes: Oops, is this sad? My bad. Until next time, Peace my Cheeses! I love you all <3

Horrified, frightened, scared, terrified, petrified, alarmed, panicked, terrorized, filled with fear, scared, paralyzed. No matter which way you said it, the boy was it. There was no denying it. There was no fighting it. The boy lived in a constant state of fear. And if you saw what he did, you wouldn't blame him.
He saw patterns. Intricate symbols of a dead language covering everything. They were always the same color as their background, and they were the only color that existed in his life. Those symbols gave his life color. But he'd be willing to give up all color if it meant those damned symbols would disappear.
They all meant things. And, unfortunately, he could stand every single little symbol. Typically, with humans at least, the symbols would tell their name, their death date, every single gruesome detail of any trauma or hardships in their lives thus far and in the future. Each tragedy had a timer as well, telling how much time had passed since the tragedy or how long until it happened.
He had been there too many times when people's numbers reached zero. He'd watched couples break up, children get beaten, people walk into cars, teens jump off bridges, and so much more. And he knew each thing would happen before they did. He knew exactly what would happen and exactly when, but he never stopped it. He'd only made that mistake once.
At the time, he was a brand new adult, and willing to do anything to rebel against his parents' strict rules. They knew of his curse, of course, and they had created three main rules for the young boy because of it. Don't speak of the symbols, don't stare at the symbols, and don't work against the symbols. And, at this rebellious age of his life, he broke the last rule for the first time.
It had been a man only slightly older than him. His last set of numbers were quickly counting down, edging upon zero as he walked towards the road. The symbols before spoke of a horrid slaughter, a speeding car scattering the young man across the road and the busy sidewalks. And the boy wasn't about to allow that. He grabbed back the doomed man, pulling him away from the swerving, speeding car. The man went to scream at the boy for grabbing him, but he wasn't fast enough. Another car came swerving onto the sidewalk, killing the man he had just nearly saved and at least ten other civilians on the sidewalk. The boy glanced around, watching as bodies covered with decreasing numbers became overwhelmed with new symbols. It would loosely translate to "the hand of fate has been rolled". The boy wanted to scream, watching as so many extra people met the same fate as the original man, bodies strewn across the sidewalks and road. Screams of terror and pain filled the cursed boy's ears, and all he could do was watch. It was that day that he decided the rules existed for a reason, and he'd never break them again.
Perhaps I should tell you the story of his childhood too, before I tell you what now has the damned boy so scared. Ever since a young age, he couldn't see life the same as other kids. He always just said his vision was blurry, and so he'd always been suggested to eye doctor after eye doctor. But his vision wasn't really blurry. Rather, the symbols made it impossible to see what was truly there. The symbols were written over everything, and any changing in colors were slow fades. He struggled his way through school, barely making it from year to year. But the teachers often felt pity for the young boy, allowing him just high enough scores to continue onward. He never made friends because of this, no one really bothered trying to be friends with him. That was, until the bubbly, headstrong brunet walked into his life.
Starting in middle school, the brunet had begun to approach the cursed boy. He'd started out with simple curiosity, wondering why it was that the one boy had no friends. And then it became a sort of horror: why couldn't he see something so simple? The brunet kept pressing him and pressing him. The poor boy tried his best to keep quiet about his curse, but he could only withstand so much pressure. He was already constantly stressed, and this brunet wouldn't just leave him alone! The brunet kept swearing secrecy as well, "I'll never tell anyone else. Only you and I would know." So the cursed boy snapped.
The day he had told the brunet was a scary one. He knew he wasn't meant to speak of the symbols, but he had to tell him. The brunet wouldn't leave him alone otherwise. It was pure, selfish desperation. And, luckily for Vik, it paid off. The brunet had stared the other down for a short while, confusion fluttering through his face as he tried to comprehend what he was being told. He followed it with a question: did he have symbols. And the boy's answer of yes sparked the brunet's interest, asking the boy to tell him of something bad that had happened in the past. And the boy watched the brunet's face drop into shock when the boy described the event perfectly.
The brunet immediately clung onto the boy, amazed by what the symbols told him. With the brunet's help, the damned boy made it through middle and high school with fewer pity-grades from his teachers. They were all astonished at how quickly the brunet's friendship with the boy improved his academic incompetence. The teachers all pushed that they share their classes, allowing the boy to get the help he needed from the brunet. His parents were constantly questioning his newfound obsession with the brunet, and the boy always used the excuse that he was the only one who tried. He didn't dare tell them that he had broken the rule. However, his parents found out. And that was the end of the brunet. Vik had to watch as his numbers counted down, the symbols leading back to his own parents. And he couldn't do anything about it.
In fact, he could read the same symbols on himself right now.
Horrified, frightened, scared, terrified, petrified, alarmed, panicked, terrorized, filled with fear, scared, paralyzed. No matter which way you said it, the boy was it. There was no denying it. There was no fighting it. The boy lived in a constant state of fear. And if you saw what he did, you wouldn't blame him.

His last set of numbers were about to reach zero.
And his parents were getting too close too quickly.