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Rated: E · Short Story · Horror/Scary · #2189781
A man gets his fortune read
Incense rose in thick curls of white smoke, filling the little tent with a powerful aroma. The strange scent made my nose tingle. I rubbed it, trying not to sneeze on the wizened fortune teller.

She was muttering something under her breath, ancient words of terrible power. Or perhaps it was all part of the act. If that was the case, it was a very convincing deception. The deep lines on her weathered face grew unnatural as the flicking candlelight played over them. Furrows of darkness twisted and shifted over whispering lips. Gaunt cheeks grew even more sunken and hollow, milky eyes began rolling erratically as her hoarse voice intensified.

Raising quivering hands over the table, the metal bracelets around her wrists began to jangle in a bizarre harmony. “… Eláte se aftó to skáfos…”

I swallowed unconsciously as her body began to sway. What the hell was I getting myself into?

Her hunched back gyrated, arms waving over the candles. She moaned the words with an air of reverence, an eerie tone snaking into her voice.

“Sympliróste tin psychí mou me ti sofía sas, ti theá…”

I shifted uncomfortably. My curiosity was beginning to be outweighed by a sudden desire to leave the dimly lit tent and all this weirdness behind.

The trembling spread down from the arms into her undulating torso. Sequins glittered from the shawl draped around bony shoulders, tinkling faintly beneath the music of her bracelets.

"Hecate... Hecate..." The old woman groaned deep in her throat.

Between us, the rich tablecloth held an earthen teapot and a single cup. A ghostly wisp of steam emerged from the spout. I watched it drift towards me, mixing with the burning incense. It formed a small cloud, encircling my head with a thick fog.

Was it my imagination or did I see a face in the smoke? For a second I could have sworn there were features in that nebulous mass.

"HECATE!" The shrill cry pierced the thick atmosphere, disappating the vapor with a sudden whoosh.

I felt the air rush through my hair as the smoke stung my eyes. When my vision cleared, the fortune teller was smiling.

"Shall we begin now?" She asked in a heavy accent.

Didn't we start already? What the hell was all that mumbling and hand-waving about? Tentatively, I nodded. Leaving now would mean forfeiting the fee. Besides, I wanted to see where she was going with all this.

© Copyright 2019 Ray Scrivener (rig0rm0rtis at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2189781-The-Leaves-of-Clarity