(Premonitions: Volume One in The Boy From Tomorrow series)
Copyright 2016 by Daniel Ormont
Cover Design and Artwork Copyright 2016 by Megan Torello
All Rights Reserved
Thanks to Mark Coker providing eBook Development Instruction, and
This story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and events are all fictitious and/or used in a fictitious capacity. Any similarities to persons, living or deceased, is strictly coincidental with one caveat. The story is premised upon a thread of truth: my personal run-ins with psychic phenomena. Albeit a compressed timeline, the exaggerated story illustrates how my psychic experiences, in whole or in part, have manifested in various forms since toddlerhood.
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This story is dedicated to the following individuals
without whom this novel would not be possible:
To those on the Ormont Tree:
My parents and my three sisters – for their love, support, and tolerance
…although unaware of the struggles consuming me, especially the teen years.
To those Next-Gen Ormonts:
My wife and my children – for their love, support, and patience
…not fully comprehending the struggles in the aftermath consuming me.
To genuine people like the Strongs and Devonshires:
To second families – for their love, devotion, and kindness above and beyond the call of duty;
For hearts burning with compassion, fighting the good fight to improve the human condition,
…and for the encouragement and unrelenting persuasion to keep me writing.
To my Cast of Characters:
All my friends I made along the way – accepting me as-is: foibles, blemishes, and all;
For tolerating tons of puns (psst, they still do),
…and, forthwith royally deservant of the lion’s share.
Oh, and Taffy, of course:
…One crazy canine!
PHASE ONE – INNOCENCE
Chapter I: Sweet Dreams
Chapter II: Sugary Spice
Chapter III: Show and Tell
Chapter IV: Patti-Cakes
Chapter V: Around the Rosies
Chapter VI: Peekaboo, I’ve Seen You!
Chapter VII: Sisterhood
Chapter VIII: First Comes Love
Chapter IX: The Queens of Hearts
Chapter X: Firin’ Ice
PHASE TWO – APPERCEPTION
Chapter XI: Boy Blues
Chapter XII: School Daze
Chapter XIII: The Girl With the Curl
Chapter XIV: Play Ball!
Chapter XV: Cat’s Cradle
Chapter XVI: Mouse Jumps Over the Moon
Chapter XVII: Gone to the Dogs
Chapter XVIII: Cat and Mouse
Chapter XIX: Tag, You’re It!
Chapter XX: Hot Times
Chapter XXI: Your Sunday Best
Chapter XXII: The Gemini Promise
PHASE THREE – HAPPENSTANCE
Sneak Peek! Chapter XXIII: Mirror, Mirror
About Daniel Ormont
Connect with Daniel Ormont
Other Books by Daniel Ormont
In The Boy From Tomorrow series, a unique story develops over time. Since the storyline is heavily time-dependent, the plot can only be told in the sequence presented here. Therefore, it is highly suggested that one read The Boy From Tomorrow novels in sequential order. Following the plot in this prescribed way, the story unfolds in its natural glory unhindered by any attempt to force each volume to read independently from the next. Therefore, each subsequent novel plays a unique and integral role providing seemingly random hints that, together, forge a synergy across time. In short, the story grows to become an entity greater than the sum of its individual scenes.
I believe the reader will find this a quick read. Knowing your time is precious, it is my philosophy that reading should be a pleasure – not a burden. With narration held to a minimum, I let the characters speak for themselves. Similarly, description is provided only when essential to the story. My style permits the reader the freedom to picture events staged in one’s own imagination…unbiased by mine.
* * *
I trust the reader will enjoy this epic adventure that questions the illusion defining the terrarium in which we live. I hope the story will inspire many to think outside the asphyxiating box of conventional wisdom. If we are afraid to challenge the norms and dare not ask “what if…”, then we are doomed to anesthetize ourselves into stagnation and complacency. A mind should wander free to dream without fear of ridicule or repercussion. Those who dreamed to fly and dared to try, bought their tickets to the sky with blood, sweat, and tears. And, those who tried to keep them down were left behind, stranded on the ground.
I believe we all possess the potential to experience psychic episodes, to various degrees. A brush with what lies beyond (whether interacting with past apparitions or future aberrations) is often subtle and quickly dismissed, if noticed at all. The majority will remain true to their convictions, decidedly incredulous to the evidence I present to a jury of my peers. However, I am confident teenagers, especially middle schoolers, are at the optimum age to be most receptive to such nuances. Adolescence is the age of exploration. Their budding minds are opening to new and abstract concepts beyond the constraints of the concrete, physical world. Their mental faculties acute; their uncanny memories astute – often fortified with picture-perfect instant recall, to boot. And, when freed from distraction, the youthful dreamer is poised to catch sight of the ever-elusive window to future glimpse.
PHASE ONE — INNOCENCE
Foresight is not endowed to the elite.
It is bestowed upon the masses and deciphered by the innocent.
Greater Boston, Early 1970s:
“Patti? …Patti? …Patti?” Danny’s words danced along cavern walls. “Patti, are ya there? …there?” Swamp gas bathed the young man in its ghostly glow; the stench of rotting fish choked his lungs.
“Danny? …Danny?” The girl glimpsed his silhouette. “Oh, I’m so glad it’s you! …you!”
“Patti-c-c-cakes, where are you? I don’t see you! …you!”
“Down here, in the water. Musta slipped…” A menacing rumble roiled her nerves. “Help me, Danny, help me!”
“Where are you?”
“I’ll never find you!” Danny paced the shore in vain. “I don’t… I can’t…answer me!” “I’m here! …here! …here!” Echoes teased his ears. “Here! …here! …here!”
“Swim, swim to shore!”
“I-I-I’ll never make it!”
“Follow my voice!”
“Try! For heaven sake try!
The panicked girl was silenced by the crash of a bone-chilling wave. Battered about at the mercy of the waves, she floundered in the rapids. Patti struggled to keep her head above water. Her spindly limbs flailed to the point of exhaustion when the fickle currents thrust her into the shallows.
“C’mon, Patti-cakes, you can do this,” Danny stretched flat out upon the riverbank. “Grab my hand!” Bedraggled, she mustered the strength to reach for him. “Gotcha!” But, her soaked skin slipped through his grasp; the raging swells stole Patti for itself.
“Danny, save meeeeeeeeeeee!”
“Patti? The thundering roar of a voracious waterfall was the only response. “Pattiiiii!”
“AAH!” Little Danny rocketed from bed, fiery-eyed. “AAAAAAAAH!!!”
“Not again…” Mr. Ormont burrowed deep beneath the blankets.
“I’m a-comin’, Denny, love…”
“Will we ever catch some sleep around here?”
“’Tis the night terrors come agin.”
“We’re cursed, I tell you. Plagued, hexed, jinxed…”
His wife leapt from bed. “What blarney!”
“Just because you were raised by leprechauns back on the Emerald Isle…”
“P’shah! Yer squakin' be worse than a screamin’ banshee.”
“It’s not natural, Aggie.”
“Doc claims it’ll pass.” Mrs. Ormont wriggled into her housecoat and rushed to her son.
“Easy for him to say,” Mr. Ormont shouted after her. “The doctor doesn’t live here!”
“What ails yea, wee one?”
“We must find her…” The child stared through the woman. “Help me find her!”
“Find who, Denny? Who she be?”
“Patti, of course. The red-head girl.”
“Sh, go back to sleep.”
“She needs me, Mum. We must find her!”
“Yer dreamin’, lad…”
“Patti…I couldn’t save her.” Tears doused his cheeks.
“Lie down, Denny.” Her calloused hands adjusted the covers. “Rest now, lad.
“I tried, Mum, honest! She just…vanished!”
“Yea did yer best.” Mrs. Ormont hugged her son, stroking his curls. “No doubt.”
“You saw her this time, right Mum? Tell me you saw her!”
“Sh! Yea need to rest.”
“I must find her! I promised to…”
“Come first light, love.”
“Fetch provisions for tomorrow’s cave expedition.”
“Sakes, me tyke’s enraged—”
“I’m twenty-one, Mum!” Danny broke from her embrace. “I’m not a child!”
“I say…” Doc said it best to play along. “My, how yea aged.”
“Gather plenty of ropes and lanterns. “I swear, if anything happens to that girl, I’ll…”
“Peace, child.” Mum kissed his forehead and helped her son to bed. “Find her yea will.”
“I’ll go mad!” The boy snuggled under the covers. “…Mum?”
“What if I can’t find my bride?”
“Fear not, wee one…that is, no worries.”
“Sweet dreams, me mystical child,” his mother whispered. “Godspeed.” She closed the door and stole down the hall.
“Did he see his mystery girl again?”
Mrs. Ormont closed the bedroom door and wept.
“Well? Answer me, woman! Did he?”
“Aye…” Mrs. Ormont swallowed her tears.
“Honestly! The same dream, night after night after night…for two weeks now!”
“He be worse, Al. The dream, ’tis progressin’.”
Mr. Ormont flicked on the nightstand lamp. He glimpsed his shaken wife shrink into the shadows.
“Why, Agatha! Have you seen a ghost?”
“’Tis the future I be a-seein’. Our tyke – all grown up!”
“What are you saying?”
“The lass is named now, indeed she is.” Under the bed covers, she rolled into her husband’s arms. “Patti be the one.”
“Won’t this keep ‘til morning?”
“I vowed we’d find her. We must start a-gatherin’ provisions...”
“Are we going somewhere?”
“Aye, an expedition. Best rest up.”
“We be a-leavin’ at dawn.”
“Someone’s cuckoo here, and I fear it’s me!”
“Alfie, hear me out!” Mrs. Ormont pulled back from her husband’s embrace. “Denny’s twenty-one, and Patti be his betrothed!”
“Fine, fine…” Mr. Ormont yawned, turning off the light. “Just invite me to the wedding.”
* * *
At breakfast, the Ormonts gathered without a word of last night’s affairs.
“Surprise, Aggie!” Mr. Ormont laid a bulky package at her place. “I guarantee, you’ll want to see these puppies.”
“What is it, dear?” She served the family bangers and poured herself coffee.
“I stopped by the drug store last night and picked up a few things…”
“Could it be? Our holiday photos? …From Argent Point?”
“No need to wait.” Her husband grinned in anticipation. “Open ‘em!”
“Saints be praised! Isn't Denny cute as the dickens donnin’ his…buggers!”
“Gracious, these be not our snapshots!”
“Aw, H-E-double hockey sticks!” Mr. Ormont leafed through the pile. “If they lost our…why, sure they are, honey, see? There’s Danny building a sand cas—”
“Glory be! The lad took a mate, Al, look!” His wife revealed a picture of Danny and his mystery girl gainfully employed in sand castle construction.
“That’s so cute. Say, who’s the girl?”
“Surely, the one he been a-jabberin’ about. The little Argent girl, no doubt.”
“Impossible! The Argents had no children, remember?”
“Bless her soul!” Mrs. Ormont spilled her coffee and dabbed at the puddle. “Expectin’ her first, and prayin’ fir a girl, I rightly recall…perhaps, some other lass, then?”
“But, Aggie…” Her husband dropped his fork. “We had the place to ourselves!”
Danny chewed in silence entertained by the discussion.
“Simple. Yea forgot. Aye, that yea do, dear…”
“But, I took those pictures myself! Every lighthouse in Maine, Danny’s shenanigans on the beach, lobster traps by the score…there simply was no girl!”
The family feasted in silence, serenaded by clinking silverware.
“Alfie, how long past be our trip now?”
“Oh…about two weeks ago.”
“And, Denny’s be a-dreamin’ since…?”
“Maybe the same…why?”
“You don’t suppose…” Mr. and Mrs. Ormont stared at each other in disbelief.
“Strictly coincidental,” Mr. Ormont sliced his bangers into wedges, stabbed a forkful, and popped the morsel in his mouth. “It doesn’t mean a thing.”
“Aye. But, what of his malarkey? …Rightly been before? …Hopin’ she’ll be a-showin’ agin?”
“Now, does that make any sense to you?”
“Don’t ask me, dear. Ask Denny.”
The unsuspecting boy played with his breakfast. “Al, yea’ll frighten the lad…” Mrs. Ormont hugged her son. “He be only two.”
“Ok, Mother Superior,” Mr. Ormont slapped the table. “You talk to him!”
“Ut-ohs, pistachios!” he said, gazing into his parents eyes. “What’d I do now?”
Unlike most little boys, Danny never hated girls. At the rambunctious age of five, Danny Ormont liked Debbie Strong. Fortunately for him, Debbie liked Danny, too. But, the same could not be said about Debbie’s older brother, Mitchell. Now, it was never determined how Misty, the Strong’s German Sheppard, managed to break loose. It seemed to happen every time Danny was headed up Debbie’s walk. Misty was a gentle giant whose size was more intimidating than her bark; nonetheless, Danny feared the beast. Whenever Misty was coming, Danny would run the other way.
And, there have been other unexplained events, like the bucket incident. It was supposedly an accident. One thing is for certain, Danny will never forget
“Hello?” the boy called, peering through the screen door.
“C’mon on in! Debbie, guess who’s here?”
Danny pushed the door wide open. Splash! A bucket belched its icy contents upon him. This string of events seemed too numerous to be coincidental. Although Mitchell denied concocting such dastardly deeds, Danny remained suspicious. Still, nothing would discourage him from seeing Debbie.
“Just once, I’d like to catch Mitchell in the act.”
“He means no harm.”
“Wanna play on the swings?”
In the early 1970s, the age of innocence was golden delicious for a Bean Town boy and his gal. The warm spring day beckoned, and with Debbie by his side, the swings could take them anywhere. A few swift pumps of the legs brought them soaring over the rooftops and into the clouds. Danny pretended he was flying, and Debbie followed his lead – pigtails fluttering.
“Darn…” the girl frowned. “It happens every time I swing.”
“I can’t wiggle my tooth.”
“When I swing? I can’t wiggle my tooth ‘cause I’m holding on real tight. And, when I wiggle my tooth? I can’t hold on real tight, so I can’t swing…see?”
“Just swing, will ya?”
“But, I like wiggling my tooth!”
The carefree couple reached cruising altitude, and Debbie began to sing. Naturally, Danny would sing along. The duet drowned out the squeaky protests from the rusty swings. Chirping away, they climbed to new heights far beyond the limits of those two tethered seats.
“Hey, Danny! Wanna shoot some hoops?” Danny and Debbie’s high-flying adventure was abruptly interrupted by Charlie, a lanky boy about their age with wavy, brown hair. Born with basketball in hand, Charlie could not see why Danny wasted his time with girls. And, Danny could not see why Charlie wasted his time with basketball. Their guest awaited a reply. He dribbled his pint-sized ball – starting left handed, crossing to his right, then left again.
“Promise I’ll let you win this time.”
“Go ahead, Danny,” Debbie said. “I don’t mind.”
“I’d rather play with you,” Danny said. “Besides, Mum told me not to wander off.”
“Suit yourself.” Charlie and his pile-driving basketball pounded down the street.
Debbie and Danny had always been lifelong companions. There was no accounting for how they met. She was the veritable girl next door, and the best Danny could figure, they had been together. Debbie claimed the two were inseparable since the hospital nursery, and Danny never questioned her words. The legend bolstered their euphoric relationship.
Premonitions by Daniel Ormont / Actions & Adventure have rating 2.8 out of 5 / Based on34 votes