Ghosts Of The Attic

9. Tasseography

9

     It was colder than it should have been. My breaths came out in thick, white puffs as I sauntered down the icy sidewalk. A few morning joggers covered in thick sweats casted strange looks my way before picking up their pace. With my head pointed downwards, I stared at my scuffed shoes until I bumped into a jogger. We both froze in place. His face was familiar, but it was his eyes that got me; they were undeniably filled with pity. With tight lips, he murmured an apology and went on his way; I watched his retreating figure until it disappeared before continuing my walk.

     A million thoughts and questions began to race through my mind. What if this is just some hoax? What if I am really crazy? What if this is all a dream? I stopped mid-step before shaking the idea away and kicking a rock into the road. “Too late now,” I muttered to myself.

     Moments later, the sun was lazily rising into the sky while a bitter wind bit into my body. Grimoire Street was coming into view and I hurriedly picked up my pace although I still held my head down. The streets were getting moderately busier as cars filled with people going who knows where puttered up and down the street while others walked to their businesses. I caught the stares of my fellow school mates and heard their hushed remarks until I turned the corner. The knot in my stomach tightened even more now as I finally reached my destination. The place looked deserted and the sign said that she was closed, but I decided to knock.

     A light from inside flickered on and a second later, Madame Sybil opened the door; her small, hunched over figure barely filled the doorframe as she anxiously looked at me before glancing from side to side. Grunting, she motioned inside and slammed the door behind me. The room smelled of burnt candles mingled with tea as she ushered me towards the table before hurrying off to close the curtains at the front.

     “Did anyone see you?” she asked out loud. “Do you think anyone followed you?”

   “Some joggers and students saw me,” I said, shrugging off the knapsack, “but I don’t think anyone followed me. Why do you ask?”

     “The answer will surely come to you later,” she snorted. “Would you like some tea?”

     Before I could even answer, she hustled behind the curtains, where the sound of clashing dishes echoed. In the noise, I nestled myself into a seat and stared at the mirror; what stared back was an endless grey. My mind morbidly lingered on the fact that the land of the dead was connected to that mirror and that somewhere in that place was my sister. I continued to ogle at it while my mind began to go blank. Lucinda. Lucinda. Lucinda. Lucin–

     “Here’s your tea!” She slammed the teacup and saucer on the table, causing me to flinch and flick my attention back towards the present. There was a panicked look in her eyes as she glanced my way before heading back behind the curtains. Silence began to fill the place so I started to pace around the room to ease off the tension that still flowed through my veins, but then I stopped, hearing another voice behind the curtains.

    “Iris, you promised me,” a male voice whispered, “that you would help me whenever and whatever the cost.”

     “I didn’t know this would happen!” Madame Sybil practically shrieked.

     “You owe me.”

     “But at what cost? I’m not like you! I can’t–”

     “You can help me,” the voice urged.

     “But–”

     “Iris, I could have easily taken your life back then,” the voice hissed, “now don’t make me regret it.”