The Whisperers (Secret Desires)

Chapter 2 : A Prophecy in Sweet Tea

As Kiehl walked towards Madame Srivastava's tent the same wondrous thought crossed her mind the way it did every fortnight of the weekend. It was of the market. There was something about the exotic fruits and deep satin colors that made the market so magical. It had always been a bit of a mystery. After the weekend fortnight was over, the stall owners packed up their tents along with their produce and cloth and disappeared until the following weekend. And, like magic clockwork, the market was up and running once again, on the next coming weekend fortnight.

Just as this thought had settled into her mind, she had reached the magnificent, spectacle of the market. To others, the glowing red hue that lingered from inside the tents flapping curtains was ominous. To Kiehl, it was a home away from home.

Suddenly, the red light from inside the tent turned a sickly yellow and smoke fizzed from underneath the emerald tent flaps. Inside of the tent, Kiehl heard shouting. Not one to shy away from danger, she slipped inside the smoking tent.

Blinking the smoke out of her squinted eyes, she looked up towards a certain murderous-looking Mademoiselle.

There she stood, the one and only Madame Srivastava in a silk robe, the colour of a rich, mulled, wine and in her hand was a...teapot?

"IDIOT!" She screamed at a little boy. "HOW MANY TIMES DID I TELL YOU! LIQUIDS ARE NOT ALLOWED IN THE TENT - UNLESS IT IS MINE!"

Snatching a small tea cup from the brown-skinned boy she muttered to herself, grabbing a nearby cloth. "WHO SAID YOU WERE ALLOWED TO TOUCH MY TEA?! IF YOU ARE THIRSTY GO OUTSIDE! WE ARE BESIDE THE OCEAN! DRINK ALL YOU WANT!" She gestured grandly, flinging her arms towards the tent flap with much enthusiasm. As if the young boy realized she was looking away, he made a stealthy move towards the teapot on the stove situated in the corner the tent.

As if sensing movement behind her, Madame's head whipped back at lightening speed. "THAT'S IT! YOU ARE GOING UP FOR ADOPTION!"

As if noticing that she and the young boy were not alone in the tent her face quickly masked her anger. "Miss Kiehl! I'm a bit busy at the moment..." Shuffling around the tent she grabbed a large, golden cushion. Plopping it onto the floor - which was covered by magnificent carpets from beyond the Truth Isle (and mounds and mounds of cushions) she yanked on my arm -not-so-lightly with her fake but still very intimidating claws. Without a word from her, or a complaint from myself, she sat me down on the alarmingly bright cushion in a wink. "If you would give me just a second." She smiled widely, too widely, but all Kiehl seemed to notice was the steam practically escaping from Madame's ears and how very close she appeared to be homicidal.

Continuing with her previous engagement, she picked up a heavy blanket the colour of a clotting bruise (a mix of purple, brown and a deep red) - heaving slightly as she lifted it off of the tent floor. Yanking the boy towards her with blood red nails that most definitely resembled bloody claws, she hissed at the boy to stay put. The boy, unaffected by Madame's harshest glare, hummed happily sipping tea from a small cup - victorious. Rolling her eyes, she made a move to place the cup down on the stove but quickly gave up when he returned her murderous glare. Sighing, she quite literally rolled the boy inside of the indigo blanket -while he was still standing- but not before lifting his arms high into the air, until it seemed he was worshiping a sort of holy chalice - rather than holding a jagged and chipped teacup. Once secured, wrapped, and resembling the battered sausages that dangled in the butcher shop window nearby, the brown skinned boy lowered his arms and laughed with ease.