Feel Again by Fallon Sousa Page B

pattered along into the kitchen,
hopefully not waking up Carla or her other children. As Lionel
flicked on the lightswitch on the wall adjacent to the
refrigerator, George screamed very suddenly.
    Lionel
turned to face him. “What’s the problem now?” He suddenly felt as
though he did not really care if the boy had a problem any
longer. Uh, Oh, he thought. I’m losing my
emotions like one of them. He turned to
face the boy once again.
    “You
don’t look normal, Li’nel,” he said. You have green hair and purple
eyes,” he said, stuttering. “It’s the same c’ler as that girl’s
hair,” he added, becoming even more scared than before. “Are you
dying?” the boy asked, concerned.
    “No,” Lionel replied,
realizing in that moment that what was now happening to him was
much worse than dying could ever be. He needed to get to Zebda as
soon as possible. But, who would get him there. Lionel looked at
the boy, his eyes beginning to spin.
    “You will
not remember any of this,” he said, his voice and spiraled irises
entrancing the boy; locking him under his spell. “You will go back
to sleep and not ask me for food, or anything else, for that
matter, ever again.” Lionel had the boy so entranced that he feared
that he might also be under a spell-at his own hand.
    Once the boy, George, was
safely away from the kitchen, presumably nustled up back in his
tiny toddler bed, Lionel charged over to the countertop, where a
large yellow phonebook rested on top of a stack of old, assorted
newspapers and magazines. He scanned through the pages with
lightning speed, until he reached the page he was looking
for.
    The top margin read,
“Psychics.” Lionel was not entirely sure if a psychic could help
him locate Samakri. Scanning to the bottom of the page, he spotted
an ad that read, “Psychics, Witches, and Healers: Serving All of
Your Daily Supernatural Needs.” It was not what Lionel originally
had in mind, but it was definitely worth a try.
    Lionel dialed the number
into Carla’s grimy cordless phone, each button leaving a loud beep
in its trail, which was dangerous for Lionel. It could wake up the
others. An eerie-sounding voice answered the phone. A
woman.
    “I’ve been waiting for you
to call looking for her. What’s her name again? Samakri?” Lionel
was too stunned to speak, but all he could do was reply with a
simple “Yes.”
    Lionel awaited the
mysterious psychic woman in a strange room filled with the smoke of
incense and the aroma of herbal tea. Most of the other clients were
superstitious old ladies and gothic teenagers with black and red
clothing. Many of them looked at Lionel rather suspiciously because
he seemed so out of place. It made him feel rather uncomfortable,
and his strange appearance must have scared the bejeezes out of
most of them, regardless of how badass or old and wise they thought
they were.
    After about two hours of
waiting somewhat impatiently, pacing back and forth in the eerie
waiting room, a woman with silver hair and colorful beads around
her neck came out from behind a bright blue oriental curtain. She
shimmied past a table full of skulls that Lionel sincerely hoped
were not real, her long and flowing skirt swishing against the dark
wood. She glanced over at Lionel and their eyes met; the woman
staring right into Lionel’s. That kind of pissed him off because he
now felt the need to reserve eye-gazing for Samakri.
    “Lionel,” the strange
woman said. “The time has come for us to meet.” Her green eyes
glistened with mischief and advendure, perhaps even a tiny hint of
danger. Lionel was rather hesitant to go behind the curtain with
the woman, but her followed her cautiously, glancing back at the
table full of skulls now and then and hoping that his own would not
soon join the collection. When he was finally behind the curtain,
he never looked back.
    “Can I
tell you a secret?” the woman asked of Lionel as he sat at a small
table, before he even had the chance to ask her