The crowd’s buzz quieted as the slight man walked up to the podium. A banner behind him read, “NDE SYMPOSIUM.” NDE stood for “Near Death Experience,” a topic Jon Tom knew a little too much about.
“Good evening. Welcome. I’m Jon, as my introduction said. Yeah, I’m the man with two first names. And yeah, I’m not sure my parents liked me very much. At least I’m not named ‘Ben Dover.”
The crowd chuckled and then focused on the man as he lifted his sleeve. His arm looked like a burned hot dog.
“This is where the lightning left my body. If not for my friends and the paramedics, I would be enjoying some quality time in the light with Jesus and my parents.”
After sharing his experience with the crowd, Jon Tom left out one crucial detail.
Jon Tom came back to life with the ability to know when, where, and how people would die. No, he didn’t see dead people. But he knew when they would die. When the Angel of Death would come knocking on their door.
Jon Tom, the man with two first names, loathed his gift and the torment it caused him.
Time moved on after the lightning strike. Jon Tom began drinking, then gambling. “I figure I’ve already beat the odds,” he’d tell people. But for a lucky man, he had terrible luck. Soon, drowning in debt, he took a job as a bartender at the Lucky Strike Bar. And every day, when he saw people come in for a drink, he knew their fate.
He had tried to tell people, but they just thought he had lost his mind. And honestly, they weren’t wrong. He was losing his mind slowly. The old guy in the golf shirt would die tomorrow on the 18th hole from a heart attack. The server, Bonnie, would slip and fall down the stairs in her home. The child walking by the bar’s window would be hit by a car in six months while chasing a ball into the street. His boss? He’d be shot by a robber in two weeks, and as a result, the bar would close, and Jon would lose this job. He tried to convince his boss to take a vacation.
Knowing the future is a hell of a load to bear.
Later that evening, back at the bar after the NDE symposium, the night was painfully slow. While drying glasses, Jon Tom noticed a middle-aged couple walk in and take a seat. The man, with dark, graying hair, and his wife, with sad eyes, worked hard not to make contact. Both stared at their phones. Jon Tom put together their story based on their body language.
Jon Tom sensed that distance stemmed from sadness and a loss of trust.
Then the flash hit him.
Both still loved each other; however, they had lost the ability to express it. Their relationship was a slow-motion tragedy. They had met after college. After a few dates, both fell deeply in love. By their mid-20s, they were married. They raised two kids and worked well as a team. But the perception of infidelity slithered in like a serpent. Although both were innocent of the accusations, trust was lost. The silence turned into physical distance. Two people lived in the same house but were a million miles apart. And while some meteorites flame out in the upper atmosphere, others just die in the cold loneliness of space. That distance and their mutual resentment would lead to their final fight in two weeks. The one where the man stormed off in a car. A drunk driver hitting his car head-on was the cause of his death. A bottle of pills swallowed by the suddenly regretful and distraught wife was the other. Jon Tom stood over her body and screamed. He could no longer stand aside and allow a tragedy to happen.
He walked over to the table and greeted the couple.
“What a fine-looking couple you are. What would you like to drink?”
But before they could answer, Jon Tom grabbed both of their arms. And before they could pull away or scream, “LET ME GO!” both were suddenly transported into Jon’s vision of their tragic future.
Jon Tom felt the electricity flow through his wounded arm and into their souls. His eyes illuminated, and suddenly he collapsed. He felt the warmth and love of the light wrap its arms around him. He was home.
“CALL 911,” the man yelled. He started doing CPR on Jon Tom. Suddenly, the dead man was reluctantly jerked out of the light and came back to life.
“Oh God, not again. Can’t I just stay dead?” Jon Tom rubbed his neck and moaned as he looked up and saw the couple hugging, sobbing, and apologizing. He could hear, “I’m so sorry. I love you!”
When Jon Tom revived, he realized something had changed: he no longer foresaw people’s deaths. The gift—or curse—that tormented him since the lightning strike was gone.
The couple put their hands on Jon Tom’s hands and said, “We have no idea what you just did. But how can we repay the favor?”
“I think you just did,” Jon Tom grinned.
