MY IMMORTAL

Not According To Plan

It is happening again.  I can't explain how I know it, somehow, I just do.  Be it a sixth sense or something I don't know.  I get this nauseous feeling and my physical senses seem to switch into high alert.  I can somehow see things a little clearer, smell things more pungently, hear things externally and internally. I don't know what is triggering it or why but when something bad is about to happen I feel it.  Right now, these sensations have hit me full force, stronger than I've ever experienced before, which means whatever it is, it is bad. Really bad. really, really bad.

I had a similar sensation the day my dad was captured and taken prisoner.  He got out, of course, somehow, he always does, he has never even told me where he was or the details of what happened, and I expect he never will. My dad is an Australian Navy Clearance Diver. This is like one of those elite one-zy suit-wearing "Hut, hut, hut" Special Forces dudes.  Sounds cool, yeah... It's not.  I mean I'm sure for him it is cool and uber scary. He is a bit of an adrenaline junky but for me, it is sooooo not cool.  He is rarely home and when he is it's all like 'What, your grades are slipping... What? You didn't win the karate tournament? But you have such an advantage over all those kids. I've been training you since you were three?' This is how it goes, frankly, it's a bit of a curse in some ways being an overachievers' daughter. Oh, might I add, the ONLY daughter.  Yeah, fantastic ha?  I think if I had a sibling it wouldn't be so bad, I'd have someone else to share the pain with. But alas no, all of his tough love is mine and mine alone, oh joy.

I guess I should be grateful though, and in many ways I am. Like right now leaving the Uni grounds, it's really late. I've been doing some last-minute cramming for my finals and lost track of time.  Late-night access to the library in some ways is not a great idea and then a fellow undergraduate and I went back to her shared flat near the university grounds to continue cramming.  It's now three a.m. and I'm walking through the university grounds to the parking lot and things are really quiet, too quiet.  There is an eerie fog that has settled through the sparse scattering of tall trees and even with my senses in hyper-drive, it's difficult to see more than two or three meters ahead. The total lack of any sound adds to the eerie ambiance.  I can only hear my heart thumping in my ears, my intake of breath followed by its escape from my lungs as its pace begins to quicken, the crunch of my footsteps on the frosty ground, the swish of fabric rubbing against the fabric as I move and.....  something else.  It's faint, I concentrate on trying to focus on its origin and identify what it is.  I realize there are multiple origins.  Even though the sound is the same it is coming from different places. It's movement. Its creatures moving around. It's behind me to the left, no right, no right and left.  It's also in front of the car park.

What is it? Animals?  The grounds are renowned for foxes and possums. CRUNCH.  No! That was definitely not a possum or fox.  Whatever is moving is much larger than any fox or possum.  Suddenly I hear a grunt. A low grunt of surprise and discomfort as whomever it is tripping over. It is a who, the realization stops me in my tracks.  Frozen I listen intently.  I can hear the footfalls of two people behind me and there is another directly in front blocking my path to the parking lot.  Then suddenly they stop as they realize, I have stopped.  Total silence for a few brief seconds.  I am holding my breath, but they are not.  I can hear their breathing.  Is that normal? Oh for heaven's sake who cares if it's normal that you can hear them breathing.  At this moment I'm grateful I'm a bit of a freak.  

The ominous feeling catapults and my eyesight seems to sharpen.  I focus on the origin of the person in front of me and soon my sight cuts through the fog and I see his breath escaping.  He is tall and large. Too large for my liking but I've taken on larger before.  

My Dad insisted that my martial arts' training is not just about sport and fitness.  He used to have me train with him and his 'super-elite special forces' buddies.  I hated it at the time as nine times out of ten I would end up on my back with some Neanderthal with his knee at my throat or worse on my stomach balled up and effectively hogtied with a different Neanderthal heavy breathing in my ear and his arm around my throat. It was humiliating until the tables started to turn and occasionally it was one of them flat on his back with my knee at his throat.