Another fun prompt from Anonymous Legacy this week. It’s a really interesting picture.
The fortune teller brushed her curled sable hair behind her earring. The young man sitting across the table from her had asked “What she saw?” Clearly he was expecting the full show.
“Why, I see the whirlpools of time, and hear the whispers of the wind.” Not a lie, but you just can’t explain The Gift. Like the color blue to one born blind, comparison falls short of how the color dances across the eye.
Trappings are toys. She sees patterns and layers like the loom of a drunken weaver constantly. The trick is to understand, and sometimes, to sleep at night.
Within the swirls are a dark forest, a home, and finally a lonely tree. Trouble is coming. Then will be stability and home, and finally a simple death alone. A common, though unexciting, fate. Time for some theater.
“So, about this person you have in your heart…”