bears an open leather briefcase displaying a pack of tarot cards, various crystal rocks and a
rag or cloth of some description.
A flicker of light shines into the cubicle and the crystal ball glistens as the light travels across it. Muttering, Florence excuses herself momentarily, awkwardly prising her elderly body from
the chair, and fixes the canvas curtains in an attempt to black out any distractions.
“Plays havoc with the magnetism,” she fusses. “It’s only just been charged up.”
I glance down at the crystal ball, curious as to how you might charge a piece of glass. Looking up I catch her surveying my face intently. It feels intimidating.
“You leave it out during a new moon,” she tells me. “It makes it more powerful.”
My question never moved from my lips. Freaky.
Seated once more, she resumes the reading with my hands wrapped securely around the crystal ball, willing it to predict a future of lavishness and love. In any order.
“You have an unusual aura around you,” she begins. “A mixture of outspokenness combined with a rare sensitivity.”
She is looking around my shoulders from one side to the next. For what? I quickly turn my head left to right but can see nothing.
“Does that make sense to you?” She pauses. “That you can be almost confrontational but at the same time have a sensitive side?”
I guess it does really. I’m renowned for my outlandish and outspoken opinions but unravel the layers of hard-nosed Tina and you’ll find a purring pussycat lies within.
Determined to give nothing away, I remain without emotion and simply shrug my shoulders.
“I am being drawn to your higher self,” she continues. “Your higher self indicates that you have not yet learned to trust your own voice.” Leaning into the ball, her eyes
strain and she looks at me fixedly. “You need to believe in yourself.” Her face softens. “Find a way to forgive yourself.”
What is she on? Forgive myself for what?
“I feel that you are battling with a failed past and I must warn you that you must not become what you are not truly destined to become.” Her face is overflowing with concern
and a deep grimace distorts her already heavily lined forehead. Taking a break, she squints and moves her eyes from the ball for a few moments and then questions me directly, seeking affirmation.
“Can you identify with any of this, my dear?”
Like I’m going to tell you. How unspecific was that? Doesn’t everyone have a past failure that they’d rather not discuss? Feeling ill at ease and somewhat deflated at my lack
of willpower, I simply nod. Humour the old dear so you can get out of here, Tina.
I could be with Sam, knocking back champagne.
“Good.” She smiles. “I thought you might understand that.” Her face lights up excitedly. “Ooh, I am also being shown a ring which indicates a marriage.”
I sit up, suddenly interested to learn more, nodding for her to continue.
“I don’t feel that this relationship belongs to you, however, although the person who is destined to be your soul mate is all around you.” Scratching her head, she asks,
“Are you in a relationship currently?”
I shake my head, attempting to hide my disappointment. Aren’t you supposed to tell me that?
“Well, it won’t be long for you, my dear. As I say, this person is around you as we speak and your paths are destined to cross very soon if they haven’t already.” She
hesitates. “If you allow it, Tina.”
That is the first time my name has been used which in fact was all she asked me for, apart from the thirty pounds of course.
“ If you allow it, ” she repeats, watching me sternly.
Okay, I got the message the first time around.
Fidgeting on the white plastic chair, I cross and uncross my legs impatiently, unable to relax and cursing myself for just being here. My sharp stiletto heel clumsily attaches itself to the
draped velvet cloth and I jerk my knee up trying to free myself. Ouch! It bangs
Chuck Musciano Bill Kennedy
Marion Zimmer Bradley
Jordi Ribolleda
S. K. Yule
John Meaney
P. J. Post
Annalisa Nicole
John Maddox Roberts
Maggie Pouncey
A. C. Hadfield