Robert Stanelle

 The Man Who Knew too much

He awoke quickly, startled, sweating profusely. The visions were there again. So much he wanted to know, so much he didn't. This hadn't happened in awhile. It frightened him whenever it did.

He couldn't remember when they started, just their existence. He had no certain idea why they occurred, just that they did. Why? They have never done him any good he was aware of. Had they helped others? He wasn't sure. Perhaps. No one seemed appreciative though. Frightened, upset, furious, strange stares, but never appreciative.

"Keep it to yourself. Say nothing." Voices inside often echoed. He couldn't! Why was he given this power if not to tell? To save? To somehow help those he cared about? Or even strangers? He knew, he knew, he knew. He knew the answers to everything but his own questions. Others seemed to know the questions but didn't want to hear the answers!

It had happened again. Was it on his mind or was it placed upon his mind? How? Why? What forces? How can you explain to others when your own mind is lost. He told her everything he saw, everything he knew, but she was like the others. Frightened, upset, furious. He had hoped it would be different with her somehow, that she would understand. She ran away.

Now he was alone again. For a week, a month, a year, forever? He lie on his gilded bed, at the top of the highest peak, views in every direction, where he could see everything and know everything.

He lived in darkness, this man who knew too much.