Jack's Diary

Things aren’t always what they seem

Ever since I was a young boy, I could see spirits. I had this way of knowing what was going to happen at different times; I even had these visions. Late at night, I would see this man in a black coat—it was quite a long coat that was about a foot from the ground; he had this black hat with a brim all the way around it. He wore black pants, black shirt, and tie. At first, I was scared of him as I was the only one who could see him, and I didn’t understand why. For years I woke at night to see him, and it was like he wanted me to know that he was there watching over me. I asked him what he wanted and why he was watching me, but he never spoke to me. It was like I was not meant to speak to him, because when I did, he seemed surprised that I spoke to him. One night, he finally told me that he was here to keep me safe. I didn’t understand why, and he too never told me.

As the years went by, I found out that I could do other things too. One time, when visiting an aunt, she gave me a gold ring and asked me to focus on the ring; she then asked it to tell me a story as I slid it through my fingers. I got the message that the ring belonged to my grandmother. It was her wedding ring; it also told me about a time when we were together when I was really little—it was something that I didn’t remember until then. I went back to my aunt and told her, and she said that it was my grandmother’s ring indeed as I didn’t know before that it was hers. She verified the other part of the story, which was about Nana saving my little brother from drowning when we were up the river one day. I was rather shocked by how precise this was as it was about 10 years ago but wanted to know more of what I could do.

My aunt asked me as to why it was that at night I was scared of her backyard. I said that there were a lot of spirits and that they would watch me, and it gave me goosebumps when I went out there. She confirmed that I was right, that there was spirits walking around her backyard at night. She told me to go out there and see if I had the same effect as I normally would. I went out there and it was as though I could feel at least ten spirits around me. It was quite cold and eerie although it was summer, and I got goosebumps; I went back in and showed it to her. She asked me if I felt that they were bad spirits, and I replied that they were just really sad as though they were lost. On my part, I just had a really sad feeling when I was out there. She confirmed once again that I was right.

We tried quite a few different things, and I could do them all. My aunt was amazed how much I could do at such a young age. She told me that I had a gift, and that it was very strong. I was so happy that I was chosen as I was the only one of the five kids with the gift. Could this be why I was different to my siblings? It didn’t make sense at the time. What I was about to go through, even though I didn’t always know it at the time, it would be there.

Some years passed, and I was with a friend; we went to the local shops to grab some stuff for dinner. We ducked down when we saw a psychic sitting outside a shop. My friend Becky wanted a reading, so I went and sat down in front of the next shop and waited. Not long after, Becky came running over to me very excited and said I had to get one too as the lady was waiting.

I walked up to the psychic and said, ‘Hi, I’m Jack.’ She jumped up out of her chair and spun around. There was a total change in her mood. Becky and I looked at each other with disbelief as the lady was going loco. I said to her, ‘Hey, it’s ok. What’s wrong? I just want to get a reading as you just did for Becky, my friend.’

But the lady just kept saying, ‘No, you’re psychic, so I can’t do a reading for you. You know too much. I can’t tell you anything that you don’t already see.’ I calmed her down as much as I could as she packed up her table and chairs and took off down the street.

Becky turned to me and said, ‘Wow, what a trip! So you are psychic, hey?’

I looked at her and said, ‘Bet your boobs I am!’ She slapped me as we both laughed. Although Becky’s reading all came true, we realised that the psychic lady wasn’t loco at all—she was just freaked out by me.

Exactly one month later, we were at a shopping centre, and Becky wanted to grab some incense from the Crystal Shop. We walked in, and Becky grabbed what she needed and was paying the money. Just then, this lady came up to me and said, ‘I have a message for you.’

I looked at her and said, ‘Yes, I am’ before she actually asked any question.

The lady said, ‘I was just about to ask if you’re psychic, but you answered me before I got to ask you.’ I told her that I knew what she was about to say as soon as she came over to me. I asked her what the message was that she had for me, and she told me that I have to see a doctor, for my appendix were quite bad and that I had to get them out as soon as possible.

I thanked her for the message as Becky came over, and the lady introduced herself as the resident psychic. Before we walked out, she asked me to open my heart as they were trying to contact me but couldn’t. She then told me that my gift was very strong and that I was very lucky. I smiled and thanked her as we walked out the door. Becky then turned to me and said, ‘Does this happen every time you go near a psychic?’

I replied, saying, ‘Yeah, pretty much!’ Three days later, I was rushed to the hospital, and they took out my appendix just in time. The surgeon said that they were the most disgusting appendix that he had ever seen and that I was lucky as they were about to burst. Becky visited me in the hospital and was blown away by the news.

I was a manager of a delicatessen, and we were busy with the Christmas week rush; we had at least twenty customers along the counter. As I served one customer, I would acknowledge the next in line. I did this with a lady; she must have stood there thinking of her order as I was still serving the other customer. After I was done, I straightaway grabbed out one kilo of bacon, half a kilo of ham, a kilo of cocktail franks, and a dozen eggs. As I put them up on the counter in front of the next customer, she asked me what it was. I told her the order. She replied, ‘That is exactly what I wanted, but how did you know? I never said what I wanted. I just stood here waiting for you to serve me.’

I asked her, ‘Were you thinking of what you wanted?’

She said, ‘Yeah I was.’ I smiled at her, and she said, ‘Oh, you’re good! You’re psychic, aren’t you?’

I laughed, and said, ‘Trade secret!’ She came back every week after that as I had a won over a new customer. Now this is why I have a great sales record—it helps if you have insight into what the customers want and can give it to them without them asking. That’s how I got the nickname ‘Crystal’.

It took me a long time to understand myself and who I was. My family always treated me differently; they even told me that I just don’t fit in with them, and it would be better if I just left and never came back. I always had a habit of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Or was it the right place at the right time? Dan soon learnt that one only too well. I always knew it if he was up to no good, and I covered his ass on more than one occasion. Dan, if you read this, I will say these three things in no particular order, and you will know what I am talking about: Father’s Statesmen, the Boat Motor, and the Soccer Club—all three prove this theory outright. It must suck when you have a brother that you can’t hide anything from because he is different than you all.

My Sunday mum

When I was really young, it was hard to always be around my family; it was obvious that I was different from the rest of them, and at times I just needed to get away. There were times when they would play with me as well, but normally it would be that they would intentionally hurt me. I always knew it was coming; most times I was content playing in the rumpus room by myself. I had a set of farmyard animals, a truck, and building blocks to play with. There were a lot of other toys but this was all I needed. I would sit there and play quietly for hours. Mum would come out and check on me and ask why I didn’t go outside and play with the others. My response was always the same that they picked on me. I told her that I would rather play here.

At times I was forced to play with the others as they would nag Mum and she would yell at me to go play with them. I hated this, and most times I would try to sneak back to my toys. But they would do stuff like force me to lie on the road, and ask my oldest brother Tom to jump over me on the bike. Now, I knew that this was not true; he would never get over me without just running me over. But they would force me, and sure enough, my brother ran clean over me. I screamed out in agony, and tried to get up, but struggled. I finally got inside, and Mum asked what I was crying for. At first I wouldn’t tell her because if I told, I would cop it for telling tales on my brothers and sister. But she wanted to know, and I was given no option but to tell her. I was told to lie down on my bed, and if I didn’t feel any better after a rest, I was to let her know.

As usual, that night when Father got home from work, Mum must have gone straight to him and told him as I was asleep on the bed. They sent for Dan, me, and the others, and we had to line up in a row; it was always from oldest to youngest, and we got the belt. I remember saying to Father, ‘Why am I getting into trouble? I didn’t do anything.’ But they told me it was because I couldn’t play with my brothers and sister without causing any arguments or fights. I told them that I didn’t want to play with them in the first place but I was made to, and they ran over me on purpose. But no, I just got another belting. This was always the outcome; as the scenario changed, it would always end the same, so I became more and more withdrawn. I didn’t trust them, and it was getting worse. One night after dinner, I was watching TV, and my brothers were out in the rumpus room playing.

They called for me but I wouldn’t go; I refused saying that I was watching TV. You could tell that they were up to something. They bugged Mum, and I was forced to go out there. I could feel something was up; as I walked through the house, the tremors were getting worse. I shook uncontrollably as I was scared of what I was about to walk into. I got to the kitchen, and as I turned the corner, Dan king hit me and knocked me over. Mum saw it but said nothing; Father was not that far away and he too did nothing. I got up and was walking back to the lounge, but they dragged me to the rumpus room as Mum asked me for the last time to play with them. Sometimes I wondered what Mum was thinking; she knew what they were up to, yet she would make me. They used me as a human punching bag for ages, and they knew I would not hit back. I didn’t like playing with them at all; I just wanted to be left alone.

We had some family friends through our Sunday school, and I was always sweet on their daughter. Actually she was my first girlfriend or puppy love as they call it, but it was the only stable thing in my life. I had the opportunity to go to Boy’s Club every Friday evening with my brothers, and this was through the church. It was a social group where we did things like games, palates, and group discussions. The girls had a group as well. One night, we were talking, and I was asking my girlfriend if she wanted to come to Nana’s birthday bash. I already asked Mum, and she said that would be ok. So it was set that June would be coming over to our place for the first time.

It was now the night of Nana’s birthday party; we were helping Mum set the table, and June was giving me a hand. Everything was going well until Father came over to me out of the blue in front of June and threatened me over eating dinner. He gave me a firm clip and told me what I can expect; I burst into tears as I was humiliated that June saw this. Father had a habit of killing the mood just before we did anything that was fun, or if I was having a good time. I went to our bedroom and sat on my bed and tried to stop the tears because if I didn’t, it would get worse. June came down and asked if I was OK. She asked if this was a normal thing, and what was going on in our house. She asked me whether that was why I was so scared of men in particular. I never should have let her see this, because June was from a great loving family, and I didn’t want to bring shame to my family.

June asked about mealtime and what that was about. I told her that at every mealtime I was forced to sit next to Father and that he would put the belt on the table right next to me. I was a fussy eater as Mum called it, but there was one thing I absolutely didn’t like and that was pumpkin. I found it to be a very strong disgusting flavour, and as I tried to swallow, it would bounce back as I would start to heave. It wasn’t that I was being naughty, it was just something that happened. To make things worse, when I was upset, I couldn’t eat it well; it was as though I got some blockage in my throat, and I could only eat very slowly when forced. I hated mealtimes every day, and Father never gave up; it was from the start—when I set up the table, he would send me to get the belt. So there it was—I would be scared and upset from the get-go, and that was mainly the cause of it. I began to hate him more and more each day.

June asked why Mum would always put this on my plate, and replied that I didn’t know why I just thought she was mean like Father. It got to the point that I couldn’t tell the difference as to what was making me sick; I actually thought it was all veggies. But it was getting me upset, including the blockage in the throat; it wasn’t on purpose as I had always associated mealtime as a bad thing, so I just never wanted to have dinner. I never enjoyed it; I mostly ate only to survive, and I never ate much. One girlfriend’s Mum nicknamed me ‘sparrow’ as I would barely eat a half plate of food when everyone else had a full dinner plate. I also realised that the thing with the pumpkin was just that particular kind, and I hate it mashed; I can only eat it baked. But I guess it was of a control thing with Father because you can’t dare to be different—you had to follow the herd, and that wasn’t me in any sense of the word. June wasn’t happy hearing this at all; in fact, she was the only one whom I ever told.

Over the next few weeks, June’s Mum was asking me to come to church with June after Sunday school. She said that I could spend the time after church at their place, and they would drop me off after church that night. I would have a roast lunch with them, and get to spend all day at June’s. Mum let me, and I think she knew why, but I can’t be sure as Mrs H took Mum aside for a talk before she let me know. I thought it was great, but I had to learn quickly that I needed to listen in church and that I couldn’t just go outside and play like the other kids. June and I sat there, and we listened and took everything in. I was starting to be happy as I felt safe with June and her family.

The first few times I felt out of place at June’s as I had not been used to going to other people’s homes that weren’t family. We never discussed my family, but Mrs H made a point to try to get me to be ok around Mr H as it was clearly obvious that I was terrified of him; they never pushed me but they were always reassuring me that I was safe and nothing bad was going to happen to me in their home. I had the opportunity to learn piano and violin with June, but I declined as I knew that Father wouldn’t like it, and I couldn’t afford the lessons. Both Mrs and Mr H said that it was free and that they would teach me, but I never took up the offer. I guess, at times when I settled in, I was a little bored, and they saw that, but I had a chance to be somewhere that I felt safe, and there was no pressure; if you start putting the pressure of learning instruments, then it isn’t the same any more. This was my sanctuary, and I never wanted that to change.

When Sunday night would come, I would always feel the same, and wouldn’t want to go home. But by the time I would get home, it would be late and I would go straight to bed. As I said my prayers, I thanked God for my Sunday Mum and her family. I asked if He could make it that I never came back to my family as I wanted to be with them all the time. Mrs and Mr H were firm but fair; they always taught me how to be a better person, and I will always be grateful for that. We stopped having the Sundays when they moved down to the Beach, but I still got to see them as they ran the church camp site, and we were there every school holidays. I would often just go up to the kitchen and visit Mrs H, and although the campers weren’t allowed to do that, I was the exception to the rule. I would pick my times when it wasn’t too busy, and sometimes I would help her.

The church camp was so much fun—we played a lot of games and went on hikes; I loved the moonlight hikes or just hiking with our torches along the beach. We would all have fun together, and it was a chance to see our friends that we only saw at camp. Funny how