Dark Visions

1: Wispy Visions of Shadow

Despite my many attempts to prevent the eerie image of the tall, dark and ominous man from reentering my mind, my intuition assured me I would have to confront him.

The image of ancient weighing scales with uneven bowls suspended from both sides of the center lever flashed in my mind a mere second before I drew the card.

Damn it.

Even though I willed it, no other tarot card replaced it.

"Lady Justice again?" Cecil Kenton didn't bother to glance up from the cash register. However, I was sure I've given her the same look each time.

I shook my head and sighed. "How did you guess? Psychic?" I attempted to hide my smile. The last I checked, laughing at your own dumb jokes made them even less funny.

"Nah. But with your help I could develop that gift." Her short frame grew about two inches as she rose on her toes with enthusiasm.

Just the thought of being able to foretell the future excited her enough to cause her to revert back a couple of years to an innocent teen again. If only briefly.

No matter how many times I tried to get her to understand how difficult it was to interpret the messages I receive when tuning in—let alone the time and effort it has taken me to accurately develop my psychic skills—she constantly insists.

I tucked the Justice card back into the deck and began a rapid shuffle of the cards in my palms. "You're not ready for a mentor yet. And even if you were, it couldn't be me."

She snorted. "Maxine! Really?" Her thin lips pursed as she swept her multi-layered purple hair from her face with a flick of a wrist. "That's how you treat a dear friend?"

Coworker.

The word "friend" had been thrown around communities so much, so quickly and so carelessly, it had become synonymous with acquaintance. Shouldn't a friend at least know their friend's birthday?

I couldn't recall hers.

Besides, friends on all levels, even the male variety were overrated. They all eventually turned into enemies. Liars, backstabbers, cheaters ... I know, I had experience and foresight. If Cecil had developed her latent clairvoyance—or clear seeing ability—she would have seen it too.

I moved about the shop before pacing back and forth near my altar, taking in the earthy tang of burning incense. The small table held other versions of tarot and oracle cards. Native American tradition, Western Pagan folklore, animal totem cards and more. The deck I frequented were of Celtic tradition and mythology.

I stopped shuffling and randomly pulled a card from the center of the Celtic deck on the altar.

The Standing Stone, an equivalent to the Justice card in traditional tarot, depicted a large stone or obelisk in the center of a green field surrounded by smaller stones in circle. The symbolic scale of justice appeared near the top of the stone. Engraved in the rock are the words: Harm None. While beneath the words is an image of a Celtic maze.

Traditionally, the monolithic standing stones were symbols of authority, boundary markers, and monuments. They represented objects of power and balance, solid and strong, that blended the energies of earth and spirit. They marked a place where people in a community would decide issues and settle specific disputes before the gods. Like a traditional court system, authorities would seek justice by hearing evidence and rendering a decision.

Intuitively, I couldn't discern what this card meant for me. Unfortunately, no amount of meditation, tuning in, or grounding provided the insight.

Frustrated, I placed all the cards on the table with the others. The rattling bowl of blue jade crystals captured my attention. I stared at my image reflected in the large gem, relaxing my gaze. The distorted picture caused my bright brown eyes to appear hollow and black like empty sockets, and my shoulder-length dark hair seemed to warp around my head in a way that grossly defied gravity.

Unexpectedly, the air in the room went still.

Black fog quickly washes out the surroundings. A tall, brute figure breaks through the eerie haze and swiftly approaches with long, heavy strides. His facial expression is distant and blank as his dark, hollow eyes focus directly ahead. Closer and closer he gets, before the bloody image of the Standing Stone carved into the flesh of his neck becomes clear.

"Arturo's dying to meet you." Cecil announced, pulling me out of my reverie while tinkering with the vast selection of crystal bracelets behind the register. "I've been obsessively raving about you and your gifts. It's borderline insane how much I yap about you. I'm seriously considering staging an intervention on myself."

"Who?" I ignored her sarcasm and looked up from the jade crystal, feeling the slight effects of breaking through my psychic daze. I had to remind myself Cecil and I were the only ones in the shop.

"Arturo? My kissy-face?" She scoffed after seeing my confusion. "Really, Maxine?! Where were you just now, Woo-Woo Land? And why didn't you take me with you?"

Beads of sweat wet my palm as I rubbed my forehead, trying to make sense of the concerning vision. "Sorry, sorry."

The amusement left her face. "You okay?"

I needed to walk, to think, to set the air in motion around me again while I allowed the vision to sink it.

What was happening?

What was going to happen?

A bizarre event was definitely in the cards. Not only could I sense it, I saw it!

Nearing the large window at the front of the shop where a wide glass case containing special stones, crystals and gems were on display, I looked out and watched the sporadic groups of people as they traveled toward their destinations. The sun continued to rapidly fall behind the distant mountain peaks, transferring its role to the street lights as they illuminate the busy sidewalks.

It wasn't unusual for customers to avoid shopping for metaphysical items or tarot readings on a Wednesday night, however, one particular person came into view. Instantly, I held my breath when our eyes met.

He stopped on the edge of the sidewalk and I gasped, nearly jumping out of my skin.

There he was. The tall, dark and ominous man from my vision, standing feet away while staring at me through the bright yellow paint on the glass that announced: "Crystals and Things."

His black eyes and the dark circles around them stunned me more than the psychic vision. Although he possessed a fair skin tone, the exposed skin on his arms were a shade or two darker. His distant gaze grew fixed and surprised as we watched each other from either side of the pane.

"You..." his deep voice cracked as he aimed a bony finger at the center of my forehead. "You there... You're the one."

I attempted to shake my head in protest, but the image of the Standing Stone clearly tattooed near his collarbone prevented me from making the slightest move.

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