5 Minute Reads | Anthology

sammiscribbles--Dreaming in purple

Dreaming in Purple by sammiscribbles

Andromache Jones, tarot reader and witch with a penchant for puzzles, had woken up that Saturday knowing that something extraordinary was going to happen. She had, after all, dreamt in purple. That was significant; a sure sign that something was approaching.

That afternoon was Bramblesgrove's village fair, and Mac, as she was often called, would be offering free tarot readings. It didn't take a psychic to work out that it would be here the extraordinary thing - whatever it was - would occur.

However, as she looked at the man sitting opposite her in her tent, surrounded by crystals and herbs and incense smoke, she couldn't correlate the two. He was just so...ordinary. Dressed in dull green trousers, sturdy walking boots, a tweed gilet and matching flat cap, the man was a stereotypical rural English chap.

Before he had entered her little enclave of new age witchiness, she recalled the purple dream, indicating that the next person who crossed over into her realm was the one it referred to. There was no mistake.

She studied the gentleman for a moment and saw that his aura was tinged with dark colours. He was keeping secrets.

"Have you had a tarot reading before?" Mac asked whilst shuffling a deck of tarot cards.

"Umm...no...I'm not even sure why I'm here,' the man mumbled to himself.

"Not to worry. It's all very easy. Do you have a question you would like to ask?"

"Umm...no..." he mumbled again. His brow was beaded with sweat and his cheeks ruddy and flushed.

Mac set the cards down on the table between them. "That's perfectly fine. We'll just do a general reading and see what the next few months hold, shall we?"

He remained silent, just sitting there ringing his hands together. Mac had never seen anyone behave so strangely in a reading before.

"Are you sure you want a reading?" she ventured, her hand hovering above the stack of cards. "If you've changed your mind, that's OK. There's no obligation."

"Umm...I...I don't know. I don't know what I want to do." He pinched the space between his eyes. "I'm just so confused..."

"Well, the tarot can be useful in helping to see the way ahead."

"Will it speak the truth?" he whispered. "Does this stuff really work?" He stared at her intently, his breathing now coming in fast, short gasps.

Mac was worried. The poor man was on the verge of a panic attack. "Are you all right? Has something upset you?"

"I didn't mean to kill her!" he shouted, standing up from the table. His hand was pulling at the neck of his shirt. "I didn't! She drove me it. You understand, don't you? Tell me you understand!"

He took a step towards Mac, who was now also standing. Instinctively, she stepped backwards, but the tent was small and the only exit behind him.

"She kept pushing and pushing until I could take it no more. All I wanted was a little quiet...a little peace. Time to think, you know? But she couldn't even let me have that!"

The more het-up the man became, the harder he was finding it to breathe.

"Please sit down," Mac said gently to him, aware that her options were limited. If his confession was to be taken at face value, the man was a murderer and Mac didn't want to test how he would react if he felt threatened. Past experience of dangerous situations had taught her that all she had to do was keep him calm.

"You're having a panic attack, sir. We need to get your breathing under control. If you don't sit down, you're going to pass out."

His eyes were wild now, his chest heaving. One hand clawed at the top button of his shirt.

Mac approached him, cautiously. "Let me do that," she said, loosening the restriction at his throat. "Things will be all right in a minute." She took his arm and guided him back towards his chair.

"If it would help, you could tell me what happened..." Mac said without thinking. Crab, her policeman boyfriend, often claimed that her inquisitiveness would one day get her into a hole she wouldn't be able to get out of.

"It was two months ago...maybe three...I can't remember. It's all become such a blur...She was beautiful and I loved her, but..." He choked back a sob. "There was something evil in her, something cold that always made her say such horrible things to me. I loved her in spite of it; stuck with her when her other boyfriends ran off with different women. And yet, I didn't mean a thing to her. She told me so. I couldn't let her get away with it. It wasn't fair."

With his secret shared, something about the man changed and Mac knew it was time to go and get help. "Wait here. I'm going to get a first-aider from the St John's Ambulance. OK?"

On exiting the tent, she let out a breath she didn't know she had been holding. As she walked across the grass, she was met by Crab.

"I need your help, sweetie. There's a man in my tent who's just admitted to killing a woman."

"What? You're kidding, right?"

Mac quickly summarised what she had been told. When Crab realised she was being serious, he ran to the tent and ducked inside. A moment later, he was outside shaking his head.

The tent was empty. The man was gone.

"He must have followed you out. From the sound of it he just wanted to unburden himself. He's given us no names, no details, but I'll call it in and give out his description."

Nonetheless, nothing came of it. The gentleman was a ghost. No one saw or spoke to him, apart from a witch. That was hardly reliable evidence.

But Mac wasn't bothered. The purple dream had been right. Something extraordinary did happen. After all, it wasn't everyday a murderer visited a tarot reader to make confession.