She Could See Death Before It Happened

They mocked Molly for her mismatched eyes—one blue, one brown.
They called her names.
“Witch.”
“Freak.”
“Curse girl.”

But none of them knew the truth.

Molly could see things.

Not ghosts.
Not monsters.

She could see… death.

Not just that someone would die—but how, when, and sometimes, why.

At first, she kept it to herself. But in her new school, things were different. Cruel.

A group of students used her. Forced her to give them answers to every test.

She didn’t study. She just… knew.

The teachers grew suspicious. The students didn’t care. They threatened her. Called her names. Broke her window. Left notes:
"You talk, you disappear."

But one day, something changed.

As they circled her after class—laughing, demanding her to “predict” the next quiz—her eyes glazed over.

She didn’t move.

Then, softly, she said:

"Don’t go to the tracks today."

They laughed.

“What tracks?” one sneered.

She looked straight at him.
“The old shack. Your hangout. By the rails.”

Courtney, their ringleader, narrowed her eyes.
“What happens there?”

Molly’s voice was barely a whisper.
“A train. A derailment. A red boxcar. It crushes the shack… at 4:12 PM.”

They stared.

And laughed again.

Except one boy—Jason. His face went pale.

Later that day, the group gathered in the shack anyway.

Except Molly… and Jason.

4:12 PM.

The ground shook.

The sky split with the scream of metal.

A red boxcar—just as she said—hurtled off the tracks.

The shack was splinters in seconds.

Screaming, they ran—some barefoot, others bleeding.

They lived.

Because they'd left just seconds before it hit.

Molly?

She watched from the hillside. Quiet.

And as the others looked up at her in disbelief, she turned to go.

Jason called after her:

"Why… did you warn us? After everything we did?"

Molly paused.
Smiled.
And said:

"I can see death. But I still choose life."

Then she vanished into the trees…

Leaving behind only a whisper…

"Tomorrow will be a beautiful day."