Presentiments are slight shadows in my thoughts

I've had one of those presentiments again, the kind that has plagued me on and off since I became an adult. This morning, I could feel those shadows creeping into my thoughts, but I managed to push them to the back of my mind. But that only works for a while. Then the grey shadow turns into a black tunnel, and I'm certain that someone will die today.

It always happens the same way: when I go to bed, I don't know anything, but when I wake up in the morning, my whole body is shaking. I'm drenched in sweat and I feel strangely tired, as if I've just come out of a sauna. I never remember my dreams. But they must be terrible, especially the ones before these days.

This morning, I dragged myself into the bathroom with a bland, sweet taste on my tongue, like blood. Everything seemed muffled. For a few seconds at a time, I experience tunnel vision, my focus fixed on the darkness. I get dressed almost mechanically, putting on my overalls and cap and fastening my belt, which has a key ring and a screwdriver bag. As I do this, I obsessively think about how I might prevent someone from dying – just this once. But how can I do that? All I know is that someone is going to die. I also know that it's happening around me. But I don't know who.

As I ride the lift down to the ground floor, I stare desperately at the floor buttons. There are twelve floors, with three flats on each. Any one of the building's residents could be the victim, and I would have to shadow them all. It would be like winning the lottery choosing someone at random. No, I've never told anyone about this. It sounds too crazy, too far-fetched. I've bought books about premonitions and clairvoyance, but they haven't helped much. I never know anything except the ending. I don't know where or who it is.

My list for today is long. I've put it in the front pocket of my overalls, right next to my pen, so I can tick things off as I go. After a night like this, I find it hard to concentrate and I can't remember anything. I actually like my job as a caretaker, especially in this big building. It's varied and you get to meet lots of people. I've been doing it for six months and I'm still enjoying it. It's strange that I can't remember what I did before, but I'm sure I'll recall it once this headache has gone.

The first job of the morning is to help Mrs Bentziger with her tap. She has bad gout and can't turn it off properly because her hands are so swollen. I offered to install one of those taps in her bathroom that don't need turning. But it had to be ordered, and that takes time. Now, I check every day to see if there's been a flood, and I have a chat with the old lady. I quite like her, and I suddenly wonder if it's her. I'll check on her again today as soon as I've finished with the other tenants.

Then, at Zinnecker's, the unpleasant fellow complains about everything and thinks he knows better than everyone else. He's wet behind the ears and thinks he can tell me how to change a lock. His children have broken another key. Although I'm a little shocked by the thought, but I wouldn't mind too much if he were the one who didn't survive today. I'm glad to leave the flat.

The bitch with the broken toilet flush is almost enough to make me lose my temper. She's standing there in her underwear, snapping at me because I wasn't there hours ago. As if she wasn't still asleep when I started work! She has black hair and a doughy face, and yesterday's make-up is caked around her eyes. She looks like Alice Cooper, and sounds like him, too. I'm getting angry, hoping that's the last time I have to put up with that bitch. When I leave, I lean against the wall because I feel dizzy. I take deep breaths, there are four or five more jobs to do this morning. Then it'll be quiet until my phone rings again.

Through a red haze, I hear a friendly voice – it's the young woman from the ground floor. She's one of the few genuinely friendly people here. She asks if I could take a look at her kitchen window as she can't open it without it swinging open. It's not on my list, but I decide to go with her because I really like Anja. She asks if I'm OK – I must look pale. Her kindness warms my heart and I sway back and forth. In any case, I put the window back in place and drink the tea she offers me while I work. It would be awful if my suspicions about her were true. I try to be nice to her, even though I can't stop thinking about the dark-haired woman's shrill voice. My headache has got worse since then – I could kill that bitch for it.

I didn't get around to replacing the two light bulbs in the bicycle cellar yesterday. Then it's finally break time, and I can rest in my flat. I might lie down for a while and try to think about something other than the tunnel and the darkness lurking inside it. But I quickly give up – I can't lie down. I'm afraid of it. Just as I come out of the bathroom, the phone rings. It's a young couple who have a problem with their hot water. As I go downstairs, I feel something soft in my trouser pocket. I don't remember putting anything like that in there. Before I can check though, the front door opens and I get on with my job. A plumber actually needs to be called out, but I'll take care of it right away. I then go to the laundry room where I find the dozy bitch from this morning, who has been asking for me again.

Preparing for the worst, I go downstairs to the room where the washing machines are. And I can already hear the old hag ranting outside the door. Her washing machine hose has burst, causing a small flood, but the water is already draining away through the floor. How is it my fault that the stupid cow didn't turn off the water supply? Her voice echoes in my head like a bell. Then Anja enters the room. She has a laundry basket with her and looks at the scene with wide eyes. Surprisingly, she takes my side, saying that it's not my fault. That's when the black bitch finally goes off the deep end. I know she can be difficult, but I'm not prepared for what she says next. She screams, snatches the basket from Anja's hands and hurls it onto the concrete floor while brandishing threats of violence.

I watch in disbelief, unable to move. Suddenly, she turns around, rushes out of the basement and slams the door behind her. Then there is silence. I look at Anja, she is standing by her washing machine, leaning on the lid. She is shaking and has turned as white as a sheet. I don't take my eyes off her as I slowly walk towards her. As I walk, I feel for the soft ball in my pocket and pull it out. I can feel it more than I can see it as the thin scarf unrolls in my hand. Anja straightens up, looks me in the eye and brushes a strand of hair from her forehead and smiles uncertainly at me. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, but she's the one who's going to die today. And I couldn't prevent it, even if I wanted to.

© 'Presentiments are slight shadows in my thoughts': A fantasy story by Pressenet (translated by Izabel Comati), 05/2025. The image shows a clock face, CC0 (Public Domain Licence).