Emily had been shaken to her core since she experienced the glimpse of Daniel’s life in her dreams. Questions of identity relentlessly wracked her mind as she struggled to make sense of her reality. Unsurprisingly, her usual happy-go-lucky self had been tempered by what could only be described as a shadow of uncertainty.

  She often found herself lost in thought at the most unexpected moments—during a quiet dinner when she somehow knew the recipe, while playing with her friends where it felt as though she had played the game in another life, or working through homework assignments that seemed trivial. In these moments, her mind drifted back to the unresolved questions: Who—or what—was Daniel? Why did she have far too advanced knowledge and experience? What were the whispers in her mind? And ultimately, who was she?

  Though Emily managed to mask her turmoil well, her parents still noticed the change. Where their daughter had once been playful, cheerful, even mischievous, she now seemed far older than her years. Her eyes carried the weight of someone who had seen more than any child should. Their attempts to uncover the cause of her muted behavior were met with vague responses, leaving them unsure whether this was a passing phase, the signs of a more serious issue, or simply a natural stage of growing up.

  Hoping that a change of scenery might help Emily regain her spark, they planned an outing—understandably unaware of the deeper currents shifting within her.

  —

  On an unusually warm autumn day, Sarah and Thomas organized just such a trip. Emily was excited to learn that Lucy and Lily would be joining them. The parents packed the children into their car and headed to a secluded park nestled in the countryside of western Wisconsin. Thomas believed this setting—far removed from the odd dichotomy of overplanned suburban life and the bustle of the city—might help their daughter regain some of her cheerful demeanor.

  The park was picturesque, with rolling hills and lush greenery providing a perfect playground for children to run freely, their laughter mingling with the sounds of nature. It was a place where parents could unwind, perhaps with a book by a campfire.

  Being in nature did help Emily, at least for a while. Her playful side began to reemerge as the day went on. She had to suppress a giggle when she spotted Thomas discreetly sipping from a brown bag. “You go, Dad,” she thought wryly, immediately recognizing the contents inside. She paused, frowning as she wondered where this bit of trivia had come from. Before the thought could settle, the aroma of freshly grilled hotdogs drifted through the air, drawing her attention to Sarah, who was tending to the outdoor grill.

  “Shoo! Go play with your friends, Em!” Sarah playfully scolded as Emily approached, eyeing the hotdogs with wistful longing.

  With a slight grumble, Emily rejoined her friends, quickly forgetting the minor injustice of the denied snack. The trio immersed themselves in an afternoon of tag, hopscotch, hide-and-seek, and uninhibited joy, making the most of their private haven. They claimed the swings for themselves and explored a modest park shelter with basic amenities—a water fountain and latrines tucked away near the trees.

  —

  As Emily played with her friends, an ominous sensation—no, a sense of foreboding—abruptly halted her, like a warning from a different era. She froze, her senses heightening as she scanned her surroundings. Adrenaline sharpened her focus in the moment- something was off.

  “For the love of…why can’t I just enjoy the day like everyone else for a change?” Emily thought, frustration and fear mingling inside her. She looked at her friends, their carefree laughter and innocence a stark contrast to the storm brewing in her mind and heart. Nevertheless, alarm bells rang in her head, loud and relentless.

  “What are you trying to tell me, Daniel…or whoever or whatever you are?” she whispered under her breath, her voice tinged with irritation and sadness. “Can’t I get just one day off from being on my mental hamster wheel?”

  Her friends noticed her pause, their playful expressions turning curious. “Em, come on! It’s your turn!” Lucy called out, tugging her arm.

  Emily reluctantly followed, but the normal sounds of laughter and play were distant, drowned out by a ringing in her ears. Her heart was not in the game as she tried to interpret the signs she was perceiving.

  Each passing second brought a growing sense of urgency. The voice in the back of her mind grew louder, no longer a gentle whisper but a warning. “Em…look at the sky...smell the air, look around you. Something is WRONG.” The fear in its tone was unmistakable, and for the first time, Emily recognized it for what it was—panic.

  She stopped resisting and scanned the sky, now shifting to an ominous yellowish-green. Her senses inexplicably sharpened, detecting subtle changes—the faint smell of ozone, the heaviness in the air making her ears pop.

  “Something’s wrong. Very wrong,” she realized with a sinking feeling.

  Kneeling instinctively, Emily scooped up a handful of dirt and inhaled, tuning out her friends’ calls. “Nitrogen expulsion? Now?” The words surfaced unbidden in her mind, drawn from a source of knowledge from a source she didn’t realize she possessed.

  —

  “Emily, what in the world are you doing?” Sarah’s concerned voice rang out as she flipped hotdogs at the grill.

  Emily bit her lip, closing her eyes as she tried to make sense of the signs screaming caution.

  “Kiddo, what’s going on over there? Why are you looking at the sky like that and…are you smelling the dirt?” Thomas called out, setting his bag down, concern and curiosity etched across his face.

  “Just…give me a minute,” Emily replied sharply, holding up a hand to halt any further questions. Her parents exchanged worried glances, their steps quickening as they approached her. The seriousness of her demeanor was unmistakable, and a gnawing unease settled over them.

  A tingling sensation raced up Emily’s arms, causing the hairs on her skin to stand on end. A faint buzzing irritation prickled her as her senses sharpened further.

  “The air…it’s heavier, like it’s pressing down on us. And the wind—it’s faster, but the direction’s changed,” she murmured, her voice a blend of curiosity and alarm. She opened her eyes, swiveling her gaze to take in her surroundings. The eerie absence of wildlife sent another pang of warning through her.

  Fragments of knowledge flooded her mind—urgent, precise warnings—as both her voice and the voice in her head merged in fear. “Ozone precedes thunderstorms. Animals sense danger and seek shelter. Low-pressure systems make the air feel heavier. Changing winds—all signs of a storm, a big one!” Her eyes widened in sudden realization, piecing together the signals her heightened senses provided.

  “Emily, danger—get yourself…get them all to safety RIGHT THE HECK NOW!” The voice in her head shrieked, making her recoil for a moment in disbelief. Any lingering doubt that something unusual was happening to her vanished in that instant.

  Now was the time for action. She had to get her friends and family to safety. She cast a desperate look at the flimsy park shelter. “That won’t hold against what’s coming…oh no…we need to get out of dodge.”

  Panic-stricken, Emily turned and sprinted toward her approaching parents.

  “Mom, Dad, we need to go now! We have to get out of here!” Her words tumbled out in a rush, her voice trembling with fear. Any shred of composure shattered under the weight of overwhelming dread. She struggled against the flood of warnings and memories flashing through her mind, desperate to make her parents understand. Coherent words escaped her as she gestured frantically at the sky, her voice rising with urgency.

  “Something terrible is coming—we need to leave now!” she yelled.

  —

  Sarah and Thomas exchanged bewildered glances, caught off guard by Emily’s hysteria. They moved to soothe her, convinced she was caught up in a child’s overactive imagination.

  Sarah’s annoyance flickered across her face as she knelt down, ready to both comfort and reprimand Emily for the dramatic outburst. However as her eyes locked with Emily’s, she froze. Her breath caught, her heart skipping a beat.

  Emily’s expression—fear-stricken and hauntingly mature—stopped her in her tracks. For a fleeting moment, Sarah could swear her daughter’s face seemed aged, reflecting a gravity and wisdom far beyond her years.

  Sarah felt an inexplicable sensation—an uncanny sense that she wasn’t speaking only to her daughter, but to someone…more. Someone whose presence demanded attention, even without words. The hairs on Sarah’s arms rose, a chill creeping along her spine as the alien feeling enveloped her.

  “The sky, Mom…” Emily whispered, her voice trembling. “Look at the sky…smell the air, the wind has changed, the animals have vanished…” Her words tumbled out faster now, her fear mounting with every observation. “Mom, it’s…a stormfront…a big one is coming…please trust me…we need to get out of here this instant!” she hiccuped, her voice breaking.

  Sarah’s mouth fell open as she instinctively looked around. One by one, she saw the signs Emily had pointed out—the ominous sky, the eerie silence, the oppressive weight in the air, the absence of wildlife. However it wasn’t the accuracy of Emily’s observations that drove Sarah to action. It was the raw fear in her daughter’s eyes—a fear that felt far too old for her frame. In those eyes, Sarah glimpsed something…someone else - almost as if a presence were intertwined with Emily, unseen but unmistakable.

  —

  Sarah put her questions and feelings aside, compelled to have faith in her daughter. She placed her hands on Emily’s shoulders and nodded firmly. It was enough.

  “Tom…” she said, her voice low but decisive, “something’s wrong. Let’s trust Emily on this.”

  Thomas froze, stunned by the sudden shift in Sarah’s demeanor. His gaze flicked between his wife and daughter. “Sarah, what in the…” he began, but his words trailed off as he caught the gravity in their eyes. It wasn’t just the fear in Emily’s expression—it was the urgency mirrored in Sarah’s. He could feel it now too, unease gnawing at him.

  “PACK IT UP, KIDS!” he yelled, his voice cutting through the air. Lucy and Lily stopped in their tracks, staring back in shock and confusion.

  “WE ARE LEAVING NOW!” he barked, his tone commanding. “GRAB YOUR STUFF—LET’S GO. NO QUESTIONS!”

  He moved quickly and with purpose, as he gathered the children and belongings, his movements fueled by an urgency he couldn’t explain but knew he couldn’t ignore.

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  The children, sensing the sudden tension but not fully understanding its cause, grew visibly upset as they were herded into the car. They reluctantly obeyed, grumbling under their breath and casting noticeable sidelong glances at Emily.

  “OH FOR FU*KS SAKE, THIS IS NOT THE TIME TO GATHER HOTDOGS AND FREAKING CAMPING CHAIRS!!!” the voice in the back of Emily’s mind groaned loudly within as it observed Thomas packing.

  Emily, too panicked to question the source of the voice—or its vocabulary—chose to agree wholeheartedly with its assessment. “DAD! WE DON’T HAVE TIME! LET’S GO!!!” she shouted, her voice sharp with urgency.

  “THOMAS, GET IN THE CAR NOW!” Sarah echoed firmly, sliding into the driver’s seat and starting the engine.

  Thomas abandoned the remaining equipment and supplies, his face tinged with some embarrassment as he rushed into the passenger seat. The moment his door slammed shut, Sarah threw the car into drive. Seatbelts or not, they were moving.

  As they sped away, the sky morphed hauntingly, its colors deepening into a fearsome mix of gray and green, then yellow and orange. The wind escalated into angry gusts, carrying debris that tapped against the car windows like ghostly fingers.

  Then came the dreaded sound—a low, mournful wail that seemed to resonate through their very beings.

  Tornado sirens.

  Everyone in the car stiffened as the swirling funnel of the tornado began forming in the distance, dark and monstrous.

  “Sh*t,” Thomas muttered under his breath, gripping the armrest tightly.

  Sarah pressed her foot harder on the accelerator, her knuckles white as she gripped the steering wheel. The car lurched forward, throwing everyone back against their seats.

  The children clung to each other for dear life, their wide-eyed expressions frozen in stunned silence. Emily sat rigid, her breath coming in shallow gasps as she stared out the window, the tornado looming closer behind them.

  Thomas inhaled deeply, attempting—and failing—to project calm in the chaos. His eyes darted nervously to the rearview mirror, then to Sarah and to the reflection of his wards in the backseat.

  The car seemed to barely outrun the storm, the funnel’s roar fading as they put more distance between themselves and the tornado. After what felt like an eternity, the car was enveloped in tense silence, the only sounds the hum of the strained engine, rain pattering outside, and the road noise.

  Emily, sensing the fear gripping her friends and family, sought to offer some form of comfort. She wasn’t sure how to offer comfort or reassurance, but as her own breath steadied, the voice within directed her attention to her unbuckled seat belt. Seizing this opportunity, Emily with a wry chuckle, muttered, “Maybe…we should wear seatbelts now?” as she clicked her own into place.

  The irony of her words hung in the air for a moment before eliciting a hesitant smile from Lily, a snicker from Lucy, and an amused snort from Thomas, and a head nod from Sarah. The smiles blossomed into shaky laughter before growing into full-bodied mirth. And as the storm faded behind them, the car filled with a surreal mix of laughter and tears and laughter again—a collective sigh of relief and bewilderment.

  —

  That evening was understandably fraught with quiet tension.

  Lucy’s parents had been briefed on the day’s events, and even Lily’s separated parents came together in an atypically rare show of unity for their daughter. News reports painted a grim picture of extensive damage where the children had been playing—the shelter itself had been flattened. It was evident that their timely departure had spared them all from likely disaster.

  Each family processed the gravity of what had happened in their own way.

  Lucy, typically the emotional one with her dramatic highs and lows, was deathly quiet. Teary-eyed, she clung tightly to her parents as waves of shock rippled through her. Her parents held her close, whispering reassurances as they worked through their own lingering fear and disbelief.

  Lily, overwhelmed by the events of the day and stunned by the rare sight of her parents united, whimpered softly. Her parents, setting aside their differences for this moment, enveloped her in a shared embrace. They whispered soothing words, not just to assuage their child’s fear - but perhaps to also comfort their own shaken nerves.

  Emily stood slightly apart from the others, leaning against the doorway. Though she was physically present, her thoughts were miles away.

  Her mind wasn’t focused on the storm or the destruction they had narrowly escaped. Instead, it was consumed by the mysterious voice that had warned her—the voice that had been so certain, so urgent, and so alien in its confidence.

  The voice that had likely helped save their lives.

  The adults’ voices filled the room as they recounted and discussed the day’s events, but Emily scarcely heard them. The words felt distant, muted compared to the storm raging within her. Questions about her identity and the source of her instincts swirled relentlessly in her mind.

  Her attention snapped back to the present as the room fell into a heavy silence—the only sound was the hum of nearby electronics and the distant ticking of a clock upstairs.

  Lily’s father broke the stillness, his voice a mixture of gratitude and curiosity. “Emily, it seems… you were the one who warned your parents about the storm. How did you know it was coming?”

  Caught off-guard by the question, Emily stumbled into a response, inadvertently using technical terms from the unusual knowledge she tried so hard to suppress.

  “Oh yeah—uhh—it’s hard to explain. I noticed light was refracting…I mean, changing…the barometric pressure…uh, air pressure dropped, and the wind shifted….”

  She trailed off, catching the growing confusion on the adults’ faces. Quickly, she forced herself to simplify, waving her hands awkwardly. “Uh, I mean… I just felt something bad was coming. I guess I sensed it—the storm. I could smell it and feel it. I’m really glad we got out when we did.”

  “Close one…” the voice within her murmured, sounding almost amused. “Shut it,” Emily mentally growled, forcing her attention back to the room, immediately feeling a pulse emanate from within her that almost seemed akin to - laughter?

  She observed gratitude - visible on the faces of every parent and both her friends as they processed her words, completely unaware of her inner tempest. “You saved us, Em. Thank you,” Lily mumbled, her voice shaky but earnest. Lucy turned toward her, sniffling as she nodded in agreement. “Yeah… thanks, Emily.”

  Oh…no problem,” Emily mumbled, uncomfortable with the sudden attention and unsure how to respond. The realization that everyone in the room was now looking at her made her chest tighten. The air was thick with relief yet heavy with residual fear.

  As the families stood and began gathering their things to leave, Emily noticed her friends’ parents approaching her with similar looks of gratitude, mingled with relief and awe. Their intense stares made her shift uncomfortably.

  “Uh, why are they all looking at me? Oh man, this is weird…” she wondered silently. “Oh kid—it’s about to get weirder,” her inner voice chimed in, its tone light and teasing. “Heavy is the weight of the crown!”

  “Wait, what?” Emily murmured under her breath, the confusion flashing briefly across her face.

  Before she could dwell on it, Lucy’s mom knelt to her level, her eyes damp with emotion. “Emily, I can’t thank you enough. You saved our kids,” she said, her voice quivering as she suddenly pulled Emily into a warm hug.

  Emily froze, momentarily tense at the unexpected embrace.

  She had to suppress an expletive—one that her suddenly expanded vocabulary seemed a bit too eager to supply—as she tried to stay composed, the intensity of the hug catching her off guard. As Lucy’s mom pulled back, she squeezed Emily’s shoulders, her expression a mixture of gratitude and affection.

  Lily’s dad stepped forward, his voice steady but laced with emotion. “You did something incredible today, Emily.” He crouched slightly to meet her gaze, his words faltering. Instead, he gently patted her back, the warmth of the gesture saying what his words couldn’t.

  Turning to Emily’s parents, he added, “If you or your kid ever need anything, don’t hesitate to ask.” The warmth and sincerity in his words and tone made Emily feel both proud and overwhelmed as she absorbed the weight and intent of his words.

  Lily’s mother stepped forward to stand beside her ex-husband, her voice equally tender and sincere. “Thank you, Emily, you’re always welcome in our home”.

  “Both our homes,” Lily’s father echoed, sharing an unexpectedly warm glance with his former wife .

  This rare moment of unity between them emphasized the depth of their appreciation, and Emily couldn’t help but wonder if perhaps this event would lead to a thaw in their relationship or healing of old wounds?

  “Eh…don’t overthink it,’ her inner voice remarked dryly. “Crisis events have a way of bringing people together. Makes you understand what’s actually important…”

  Emily, still caught off guard by everyone’s gratitude, ignored the voice. Unsure of how to respond, she turned red with embarrassment and blurted out, “Uh, yeah, sure, cool - no problem—I mean…you’re welcome?”

  Her awkward reply and uncertain tone drew gentle laughter from the parents. The warmth in their smiles eased some of her discomfort, though she still felt the weight of the moment pressing on her.

  Her friends, standing nearby, approached her with shy smiles.

  “Thanks, Emily. That was… really scary, wasn’t it?” Lucy said, her voice still shaky as she gave Emily a quick hug. She stepped back, her hands fidgeting as the remnants of the fear of the day was still evident in her expression.

  Lily, always the thoughtful one, chimed in softly, “Thanks for helping me… us… again.” Her words carried a profound sincerity, underscoring both their bond and the significance of Emily’s actions in their lives.

  “You’re… welcome,” Emily responded sheepishly, her voice small as she glanced at her friends. Despite her initial discomfort with the situation, she recognized the genuine and heartfelt gratitude of those around her. In that moment, she knew perhaps she had truly made a difference and perhaps as a group, they had transcended their bonds of friendship.

  As the last of their guests departed, Sarah, Thomas, and Emily stood together in the doorway, a mix of vulnerability and protectiveness flowing between them. Pulling Emily closer, her parents instinctively formed a protective cocoon around her. Nestled safely between them, Emily felt a profound sense of security.

  “Jeez, Em, you’re something else—I don’t know how you figured it out today, but… thank you,” Thomas whispered, his voice still heavy as he kissed the top of her head.

  Emily looked up at Sarah, her expression softening. “Thanks for hearing what I was trying to say, Mom, even though I couldn’t say it clearly,” she said quietly, her voice filled with a mix of gratitude and relief. Sarah returned the smile, stroking her daughter’s head gently. “Always, sweetheart,” she murmured.

  Turning to her dad with a mischievous grin, Emily added, “And thanks for not drinking and driving, Dad… yeah… I know what’s in that brown bag.”

  Her playful teasing comment, so unexpected from a child, caught both parents off guard. They stared at her for a brief moment before bursting into laughter. The sound filled the room, pushing away the tension of the day and bringing a sense of levity. For the first time since the storm, the house felt warm again.

  —

  That night, as the house grew quiet, Emily lay in bed, her mind racing as she reflected on the day's events. Her emotions were tangled—a mix of fear at the storm’s rapid arrival, terror from its sheer intensity, and warmth from her friends’ grateful parents. She also felt pride in the support and belief her mom and dad had shown. Yet beneath it all was a lingering unease she couldn’t quite place.

  After their guests left, her parents' pride had morphed to concern and they gently broached the idea of therapy, worried about the potential trauma their daughter may have experienced. evidently concerned about any trauma she might have experienced. Emily had assured them she was fine, reluctantly agreeing to talk if she needed to, mostly to end the conversation.

  Silently, she thought to herself about the questions she couldn’t voice. “What I really want to talk about…where would I even start?" Everyone would think I’m nuts….” she murmured under her breath as she walked upstairs to her bedroom.

  She plopped onto her bed, staring at the ceiling as her mind swirled with questions which beget even more ambiguity. With one elbow on her forehead, she sighed, casually punching her mattress lightly in frustration.

  Her thoughts drifted back to the voice in the park. It wasn’t just that she had sensed the storm—anyone could have guessed the weather was turning. It was the certainty, the urgency in that voice, as though someone else had been guiding her. She thought of the quiet commentary during the parental debrief, the whispered remarks that felt both hers and not hers, the ones she had worked so hard to ignore.

  “Was that you, Daniel?” she muttered under her breath, the words barely audible in the stillness. She waited, her heart pounding slightly at the thought of a response— there was only silence.

  Her voice grew louder, tinged with irritation and impatience. “Who or what are you? How are we connected? Why do I know things I shouldn’t?”

  For a fleeting moment, she thought she felt something almost imperceptible stir in the corner of her mind, as though an answer was forming. But it hesitated, slipped away, and vanished before it could take shape back into the recesses of her own mind.

  Emily frowned, her frustration ebbing into weary confusion as she turned onto her side. “Am I Emily? Am I Daniel?” The question hung in the air, so close to an answer yet just barely elusive.

  It felt natural, impossible and inevitable all at once, as though the truth was waiting for the right moment to reveal itself.

  Her thoughts swirled until, finally, sleep began to take over. As her breathing slowed, the echoes of the day faded into the background. Emily drifted off, caught between the shadows of the past and the uncertainties of her present, left with more questions than answers.

  For now, all she could do was wait.