Welcome to Premonition. This fanfiction is actually combining Final Destination with Silent Hill, according to the premonition part, so I hope you enjoy. I'm just experimenting with this for a while.

Prologue

I never thought it would come to this. I never imagined, in my wildest dreams, that something this violent, this morbid, would happen.

But I suppose it could have happened to me, to anyone. I was the one born with this curse, so why didn't it come into effect until now? Up until this point, things have seemed normal. Even in my times of strife, times of sorrow, none of it compares to what happened to Miranda.

Everyone says that my mother named me who I was for a reason. Sure, I was born an albino, or that's how it seemed at first, but my eyes weren't pink like the others, and I've outlived most albinos, now at the age of sixteen. My eyes are not pink, but instead, emerald. My grandmother was always superstitious, saying that I had some paranormal powers. I had a gift that wouldn't come until later. I thought she was a lunatic. Afterall, the old woman would die anyday, and this same day, a funeral is being held for both her and Miranda.

So here I stand on this chilled February day, Valentine's Day. A day of love, compassion, but I only feel heartache as I watch several men, their faces, unknown, lower Miranda into the cold earth below. I cannot hear the pastor's voice. I see my parents weeping, I see many visitors tracing a crucifix across their chests for my sister who had departed to the heaven's above and before us.

I suppose my curse is also my savior. Had I not predicted her death, I, too, would be lowered into the ground. Now, I cannot wipe them from my mind. I am cursed to reminisce back to that dark night of several before..


My name is Unique. My mother named me for just that. Unique. Although I am albino, the sun does not harm me. I am not sensitive to light like that of a vampire. My eyes are not pink, but green. I, by most standards, am not considered an albino unless referred by my silver hair. Sometimes, I longed to be like Miranda, my sister, only a year older than I. She had caramel brown hair, her eyes, the same. She was normal. She was not like I, gawked at as of something alien. Something that did not belong to this world.

It started three nights ago. My parents had left Miranda and I alone to man the fort as they joined several friends in a class reunion several hours away. I had been angry that day. I was picked on, once again, by my peers that were ignorant of my state of complexion, but it seemed worse today. Maybe because it was Friday and my day was going well until it was ruined.

Nevertheless, I was going to end my stress my taking a nice, long bath, which my mother despised because she was a penny pincher on the water bill.

Miranda was several yards away, down the hall, listening to music. At her side, she recorded every detail of questions she needed to remember for the upcoming SAT's by ways of a tape recorder. I decided to be out of her way as much as possible. She and I both had stress that could have easily been taken out on each other.

And so I lit candles within my parent's bathroom, which held the larger tub, and killed the lights as I slipped into the steaming water that seemed to melt my worries away. I slid my head into the water and all seemed more silent than usual as the water in my ears drowned out any commotion that may have been happening.

Luckily, had it not been for what happened several minutes later, my premonition would have come true.

Suddenly, I opened my eyes quickly when I felt that something was dreadfully wrong. I sat up and looked around, but I heard nothing out of the ordinary. I took a candle into my hand and shone it over my body. My legs, stomach, chest, everywhere were scarred and gashed, and I was lying in a pool, a tub, of blood. My blood was splashed out of the tub and onto the tile floor below, footprints leading away and into the hall beyond.

I shot up out of the water after recalling this clip of a dream and I was panting loudly. I retreated to a candle at my side and shone the light around, seeing that I was neither cut up or sitting in a tub of my own flesh. When my breathing receded, I listened to what sounded like a struggle down the hall in my sister's room. I assumed she had become impatient with her studies and resorted to slinging them across the room, but I heard meek cries, her calling as though distressed more than I had anticipated.

I fled from my haven and wrapped myself in my mother's robe. I then proceeded to the hall to see a man, a stranger, holding my sister down, she nude and struggling to move from his grip. I let out a quiet shrill when he moved a blade across her throat, and blood pumped from her jugular.

I retreated behind to the living quarters and grabbed the phone, then backtracking to my parents bedroom. I locked myself inside and dialed 911, frantic and unsure of how I could keep myself together.

Several moments before sirens were heard barreling down the road, the door shook and the frame looked as though it would give out. I held back my scream and he fled several seconds later from the home. That night, I did not return to see my sister's face, for I had seen the fear in her eyes as the blood of her own trickled down her neck.


I am angry. I never saw my sister's killer. Now, I wish I had not been cursed, had not been different from everyone else. Maybe I belong in the ground with her. Shun from all normalities.

My parents didn't speak with me the whole time on the car ride home. I saw a man standing alone and away from the crowd at the funeral. He won't leave my mind, even though I never saw his face. Much like the man I never saw murder Miranda.

They say they want to take me to a lonely town with few people to help calm my nerves, so we'll be moving shortly. I've never heard of the town before; Silent Hill. Maybe I do need some peace and tranquility, afterall..