Paranoid Prophecy

Chapter 1

The old woman sat down on the clothed, aged couch. Pulling out the black tobacco packet from her pocketed skirt, she trembled as she rolled up the cigarette. Placing it in her mouth she inhaled deeply, she let out the smoke as it curved and weaved along the multiple incense sticks that protected the room. Any non-smoker might as well of smoked when visiting. The brown table that sat between the two couches was standing on its last leg from the weight of the crystal in the middle. Among the smoke and the aged furniture, the crystal was the only thing that got cleaned, polished. The old woman took care of it as though it was her only child, it sat on top of a royal blue satin cloth.

"Vivian! Is the tea ready yet?" She mustered the strength to say. Taking a drag and coughing wildly, her lungs after all these years, still not able to get used to the lack of oxygen.

"Not yet!" The young woman shouted back. "We should really use the main light; I can't see what I'm doing."

"It doesn't work!" Her voice shook, rolling her eyes as the young woman said something else. It wasn't loud enough; Vivian knew her ears didn't work like they used to. She kept the cigarette in her mouth while she laid an old deck of tarot cards. It was what her mother had given her, a fortune teller. There was no other option but to follow her mother's footsteps. The sign on top of the building used to read Angela's Fortune Telling, it now read Francesca the Fortune Teller.

"Vivian!"

"Hold on, I'm coming!" The young woman, came in. Wearing a black robe, holding a silver tray. Carefully walking towards the table and placing it gently. Francesca attempted to breath deeply.

"Where did you find that thing?"

"What thing?"

"The robe."

"Oh, I found it while I was cleaning your room," Vivian proudly said. The old woman took a drag, clearly annoyed. They had only met a week ago, and the young woman had already started taking her precious, handmade clothes.

"Don't wear that, you look like a witch."

"Isn't that-," Vivian stopped herself. She sat down with a breath. "So, what are we doing now?"

"Drink your tea, slowly," Francesca took her free, pallid hand and dragged the tarot deck towards Vivian. "And do a reading for me."

"But, I've only started learning the meanings yesterday." Vivian said, she laid back and drank the hot, bitter tea, almost burning her tongue. Another failed attempt at making a good tea. She still wouldn't be able to help out Francesca with her clients. She tried to study the tarot cards, but the meanings and symbols and interpretations were far too many for her to read in one sitting.

"Just try to breath, and whatever message, thoughts, come through. It may be the answer a sitter is looking for," The woman shakily sipped the tea, grimacing at the taste. Forcing herself to drink it nonetheless. "And speak with confidence while you do, you are selling people their future. I can tell you have doubt in the cards, I shouldn't be able to tell."

Francesca was sure that within time, Vivian would find the best practise that works for her. But for any sitter that comes into the room, they expect the whole fortune teller package. The incense, the tarot cards, the palm readings, face readings, tea readings, the candles, the intimidating elder woman who looked wise beyond her years. When they first met, Vivian's aura was a light grey, and so was Francesca's at the time. She noticed now it had turned into a grey that was closer to white, she had started to feel better.

Vivian sighed, a feeling of uneasiness crept in her stomach. She opened the deck and drew the stack of cards into her hand, holding the weight. Not meeting Francesca's gaze she struggled the shuffle the deck like Francesca could. The old woman's hands would stop trembling and she would move her hands deliberately and precisely. Like a magician, with such ease and confidence that the card would be exactly what he planned.