Down the Carny Line - How a Fortune Teller Changed My Life
an excerpt

Towards the end of the row, another kind of tent caught my eye. Apparently, the eyes of all my friends as well. I glanced to one side and then the other and saw them all staring at it, eyes glinting with mischief. The tent itself stood out for its lack of color. The sheets of canvas were drab and the color of moldy cheese. Very old, disgusting moldy cheese. As I shuffled forward, I wondered if it would smell like that too. Dave was sniggering and jostling me. Let's go in, he urged, almost like a dare. I looked at the flag hung on a pole near the door. Fortune Teller, it read. Fortunes told. Five dollars. I had spent most of my money on rides, games, food and other trivial fair items. My hand went to my pocket of its own accord, my eyes still riveted on that sign. I had two dollars to my name.

I said as much. The others rustling around, feet shuffling and eyes wide pooled their money. Do it, they said. I dare you. Cocky smirk on my face, I grabbed the offered money and walked toward the tent. They followed behind. I was barely aware of them. My stomach was knotted and I didn't know why and it pissed me off. I pursed my lips and pushed the curtain aside and stepped in with my usual confident step, thinking that the ‘fortune teller' was probably some worn out middle aged divorcee trying to scrape enough money to feed her 20 kids. Or something like that.

The tent was very dark inside. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust as I was pushed forward; my friends bumping each other to file in behind me. I noticed a low light fanning out from a small table at the back corner of the smallish tent. A very beautiful woman sat on a low stool. She was beckoning me forward. Sit, she said. Sit and let me tell you of what may be, what could be. I shuffled forward and sat across from her. I looked around briefly at the contents of the shelter. A couple book shelves stood like burly guards on two sides of the tent and the interior seemed to grow and shrink as I let my gaze slide around the four walls to land back on the face of the woman in front of me.

I still couldn't get over the shock of her beauty. It wasn't the standard conventional beauty, either. She was ethereal. Other worldly. Soft and white and glowing with steely eyes. I could tell she could probably cut flesh with just a look, but her expression was soft and full of interest, though guarded at the same time. My stomach was clenched tightly and I seemed to have lost my ability to form coherent words. She smiled a sweet, soft smile that ached to look at. I blushed and looked back at my friends who also stared at the woman in awe.

In our small town, no one looked like that. Even people on the tv or in magazines looked fake and painted in comparison. I turned toward her again and she had her hands on a large sheet of glass on the table. My eyebrows rose in surprise when I noticed. I suppose I was expecting the stereotypical crystal ball or something. Her eyes were out of focus and her lips were pressed in a thin line. I think that expression scared me more than any old witch hag would've ever done.

We had entered her filthy tent as a joke, a dare; fully expecting drama, smoke and mirrors, with lots of crackling and knowing nods. This looked real. It felt real. It scared the shit out of me. My hands were fisting wads of my jeans as my eyes stayed locked on her face, waiting.

I thought I caught a glimpse of light swirling in the glass, but I was sure it was a trick of the light. The light seemed to dim and the fortune teller snapped her head up and looked through me. Right through me like I wasn't even there. It was like I was a ghost. At that moment I felt a bit like one, too. I watched her eyes regain focus on me and suddenly wished that she was looking through me again. Her beautiful face was transformed into a frightening mask. It was still her face, but changed somehow. To this very day, I still can't describe how it was.

She spoke for the second time. Her voice was a husky whisper almost too low to hear. I leaned forward eager to hear what she had seen in the glass. She spoke in another language. I couldn't understand a word she was muttering. Her hand came up and waved in front of my face, nearly taking off my nose with her long pale fingers. I leaned back away from her then and felt and heard the heaving breaths of my friends at my back. Whispering. That whispering again. What did she say, they asked. What did she tell you? I had no clue. The woman sat in her stool with her delicate hands folded primly in her lap. I raised an eyebrow at her.

She smiled and said, the ether has spoken or some such. About what? I needed to know. It seemed so important to know. My heart was pounding so hard in my chest that it truly felt as if it must leap up and burst forth right out onto the table. My skin felt like something had brushed just the tips of every hair on my body. I shivered.