When I was about 12 years old, my family lived in a small town where everyone knew each other. It was a place where secrets were hard to keep, and rumors spread faster than wildfire. But nothing could have prepared us for the chilling events that unfolded one fateful summer.
My mum was a woman of few words but had an uncanny ability to sense when something was wrong. She had this quiet intuition that often left us baffled. One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon and painted the sky in hues of orange and purple, my mum sat by the kitchen window, staring into the distance. Her face was etched with a mixture of worry and resignation. I remember asking her what was wrong, but she simply shook her head and said, ¡°I don¡¯t know, but something bad is going to happen.¡±
That night, the air was thick with an unsettling silence. My dad had gone to a nearby city for a business trip, and my younger sister and I were staying with mum. We tried to distract ourselves with TV shows and board games, but the atmosphere in the house was tense. Mum kept glancing at the clock, as if she were waiting for something¡ªor someone.
Around 10 p.m., the phone rang. The shrill sound pierced through the quiet, making all of us jump. My mum¡¯s face turned pale as she reached for the receiver. She listened for a few seconds, her hand trembling slightly. When she hung up, she looked at us with tears in her eyes and said, ¡°Your father¡¯s been in an accident.¡±
The details were still unclear, but the news was devastating. My dad had been driving back home when his car had skidded off the road and into a ditch. He was alive but severely injured and unconscious. As we rushed to the hospital, my mind raced with questions. How did mum know? Was it just a mother¡¯s instinct, or was there something more?
At the hospital, the sight of my dad lying in a bed, hooked up to machines, was unbearable. The doctors said it was a miracle he had survived. But as we sat there, holding each other and trying to make sense of the chaos, my mum quietly told us about a dream she had the night before. In the dream, she saw my dad¡¯s car crash, and she heard his voice calling for help. She woke up with a sense of dread that lingered throughout the day.
As the days turned into weeks, and my dad slowly recovered, we couldn¡¯t help but wonder about the eerie accuracy of mum¡¯s premonition. It wasn¡¯t the first time she had seemed to know something before it happened. There were other small incidents¡ªlike knowing when a storm was coming before the weather forecast announced it, or sensing when one of us was in trouble at school. But this was different. This was life-changing.
Years later, as I grew older and learned more about the world, I tried to rationalize what had happened. Maybe it was just a coincidence, or perhaps it was the power of a mother¡¯s love and intuition. But deep down, I knew there was something more. It was as if mum had a connection to the unseen, a sixth sense that allowed her to glimpse fragments of the future.
The experience left a lasting mark on our family. We became closer, cherishing every moment together and never taking anything for granted. And whenever I think back to that night, I am reminded of the thin veil between the known and the unknown. There are things in this world that science can¡¯t explain, and sometimes, the most terrifying truths are the ones we sense before they happen.
In the end, it wasn¡¯t just a story of horror; it was a story of love, survival, and the mysterious bond between a mother and her family. My mum knew before the call came, and that knowledge, though terrifying, was also a testament to the unbreakable ties that hold us together.
