Creative fun in
the palm of your hand.
Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2223550-The-Loss
Rated: E · Fiction · Mystery · #2223550
Ryan asks a Gypsy to read his fortune. The results aren't clear.
The Loss

         “Dad, stop here!”

         "What? Why Ryan?”

         “Didn’t you see the sign? It said there’s a gypsy seer here, a fortune teller. Please? I want to have my fortune read!”

         What had started out as a short drive in the desert had become a day of exploration for the two of them. Stan had intended this to be a short drive, he had things he wanted to do. But on occasion, Ryan had almost demanded he pull to the side of the road so he could get out. Each time, it was as if Ryan was an explorer seeing new wonders in the world around him. Now he wanted to see a gypsy?

         “Dad! You missed the turn!”

         “I’m sorry Ryan, I didn’t see the turn soon enough. Hold on, I’ll turn around.”

         Stan made a quick U-turn and pulled their Jeep into the dusty, unpaved, parking lot.

         As soon as the car stopped, Ryan bounded out with more energy than Stan had seen in some time. His pasty white skin and small bony body was a sharp contrast to Stan’s smooth tan and robust, mature shape. Eight year old Ryan was a precocious young boy with a sickly, frail body that seemed to defy nature, while his father looked like he was strong enough to wrestle a bear. Ryan grabbed Stan’s hand and tugged it, leading him to the entrance of the small adobe building.

         A soft bell announced their arrival as they opened the door. The interior was immaculate, but sparsely furnished. Stan thought the room looked almost Spartan in nature. A thin curtain of beads hung in a doorway that seemed to lead to another room. Ryan fidgeted in place as they waited to be greeted by someone. Stan was surprised when a young woman entered the room, he’d been expecting someone much older and bent, like he’d seen in movies.

         “Hello there! I’ve been wondering when you’d bring Ryan to see me.”

         Stan was taken aback, and found himself stuttering in reply. “Y... y.... you know my son?”

         “I wouldn’t be much of a seer if I couldn’t discern a person’s name, would I? Do you prefer to be called Mr. Canton, or may I call you Stan? I am Kezia.”

         Stan felt almost hypnotized by her presence, and found he almost couldn’t respond. Finally regaining some of his senses, he managed to blurt out, “I’m no fortune teller, but I knew your name after seeing your sign outside.”

         Kezia smiled as he said this, and quietly replied, “I think I’m the only fortune teller here.” She continued on saying, “It’s okay Stan, we gypsy women aren’t all old and bent like Hollywood portrays us. But I am older than I look. Ryan here is getting impatient, come on back and we’ll see to his fortune.”

         Ryan had stood there waiting as patiently as he could while his father and the gypsy woman talked. He wanted –no, needed --, his fortune read, but he knew better than to be impolite and force the moment.

         They followed Kezia into the back room. As they entered the room, darkness seemed to engulf them. After a brief moment though, a dim light could be seen all around them, allowing them to see quite well.

         Kezia seated them at a small round table covered by a large, white cloth. Ryan looked at the table, then around the empty room and said, “Where’s your crystal ball?”

         Kezia laughed lightly and rustled Ryan’s hair before saying, “Like I told your father, us gypsy fortune tellers are not at all like Hollywood portrays us. Now, in a moment, I’m going to take your hands in mine. I need a connection with you to see your fortune, okay?”

         “Sure! But I was hoping you would have a crystal ball.”

         “Really? Okay then, your wish is my command.”

         Kezia stood and left the room, only to return momentarily carrying a round glass ball in one hand, a small stand for it in the other. Stan looked at her quizzically, and she quietly said, “I’ve learned to be prepared. Some people, especially children, want a crystal ball on hand.”

         After seating herself once again, Kezia’s face became serene, her eyes fixated on a distant point in the room. She reached around the crystal ball for Ryan’s thin hands. Taking them in hers, she grasped them firmly, yet softly. They sat quietly for a few moments before her brows furrowed, her lips contorting into almost a grimace.

         At this point, Kezia’s face almost froze and she abruptly pulled her hands from Ryan’s. “I’m sorry, I can’t read your fortune Ryan, please forgive me.”

         “Are you a fake after all then, just like everyone says seers are?”

         “No Ryan, it’s just that once in a while, we can’t help the person who comes to us. We’re not sure why, but sometimes, it just doesn’t work.”

         Suddenly the room was lit brightly, though Stan didn’t see how the change occurred. Stan looked at Ryan and said, “Ryan my son, you need to apologize to Kezia, then wait for me in the car while we settle things up here.”

         “I’m sorry Ms. Kezia, I just really wanted my fortune told. Thanks for trying!”

         After Ryan left, Stan turned to Kezia, but before he could say anything, she said, “No, there’s no charge. I couldn’t tell him his fortune after all. But I have to tell you this Stan. He doesn’t have much time.”

         “What do you mean, doesn’t have much time?”

         “Has he been seen by a doctor?”

         “Kezia, he’s been seen by the best I could find in about every specialty there is. No one can tell me why he’s so frail, so sickly. His blood tests are always normal, as are the results of every test they’ve run. But I know he’s not normal, he knows he’s not normal.”

         “Well, he is an Indigo child.”

         “A what?”

         “An Indigo child.”

         “What’s an Indigo child?”

         “Some say they are the next step in human evolution. Some don’t believe they are any different from us. But Indigo children, as well as the Crystal children are not like we are. Google the term.”

         “I will when we get home.”

         “You’ll find they are our future, but he won’t be a part of it. Something went wrong when he was developing in the womb. That’s why your wife died in childbirth. So yes, he’s an Indigo child. But as I said. He. Doesn’t. Have. Much. Time.” She said these last words in short bursts, each word and syllable stressed as if it was painful to say. She continued on, “The others sense his presence, and know. They will stop what they doing, and stand facing his direction.”


         “Yes, the other Indigo children will stop soon stop what they are doing, and turn to face Ryan.”

         “They’re near then? The others? He can meet them?”

         “No, they are around the world. Now go! Please! He. Doesn’t. Have. Much. Time!”

         Stan was shaken by her manner and words, and seemingly stumbled outside.

         Back inside, Kezia whispered, “The sound has started.” She knew that sound, had heard it infrequently before. She had always wondered what it meant, and now she knew. It would continue, never getting louder, but would quickly seem to block out all other sounds. Then, as suddenly as it started, it would stop. Now she knew why it started, and why it stopped.

         Ryan sat quietly in the Jeep, waiting for his father. He was lost in thought, and when he finally looked up, he saw that the Jeep surrounded by a glow, much like the glow in Kezia’s shop. He thought this was curious, and wondered where it had come from since he hadn’t noticed any clouds nearby. He turned around see to see his surroundings, and was surprised that he really couldn’t see much. It seemed a low-lying fog covered the area. As he turned, Ryan spied an opening to one side. He got out of the Jeep to see better, and walked towards this opening.

         ‘That’s strange’, he thought, ‘it’s not getting any closer’. He stopped and gazed at that distant point, and saw that it was lighter than everything around it. As he watched, the light went out.

         Around the world, millions of children who had stopped what they were doing and faced in one direction, started playing again.

         The sound stopped.

         A grown man cried.

Jim Dorrell
© Copyright 2020 Same Ol' Sum1 (sum1swriting at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates have been granted non-exclusive rights to display this work.
Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2223550-The-Loss