Last week, The Psychic told all of Celia’s friends they would have beautiful lives shared with people who adored them. Their homes would be full of laughter, joy, and many children.
But last week, The Psychic fell silent when Celia revealed the lines of her palm. All of her friends stood outside, by The Psychic’s orders, in order to maintain the aura of the room. Celia could see their eager faces through the window, smiling as they waited for her to come out so they could decide whether to paint the nursery pink, blue, or a neutral yellow.
Celia’s hand trembled on the table in front of The Psychic, the rings that adorned her fingers hitting the table in an uneasy rhythm. She wanted the woman to start humming along, to make a joke of it.
As if it were fact, The Psychic stated that Celia had been suffering from nightmares. Ceilia lacked the heart to tell her she had felt like she was asleep that entire fall but was yet to dream a thing. But the woman said everything with such conviction that it made her want to believe in seance.
So, with vulnerable eyes, Celia stared at The Psychic and nodded yes.
The woman then warned that Celila’s energy was entirely black, so dark no one could see through it. Everything in her life was unbalanced, and as soon as she tried to return to equilibrium, she was knocked right back off the horse. All of her words hung in the air, mocking her. Celia imagined them spelled out by the cigarette ash she could smell on The Psychic’s breath.
The Psychic looked deep into Celia’s eyes for a sense of agreement. Celia wasn’t even sure if The Psychic was right. But, at that moment, all she wanted was for a stranger to tell her things about herself–to trust that maybe someone else knew her better than she. It brought a quiet comfort to have another person do the thinking for once.
Then The Psychic took a deep breath, seemingly already drained by the presence of her black aura. She broke it to Celia: she was cursed. Two women from her past had conspired—she was not quite sure who—but they were to blame for all her troubles. Celia asked if she was ever going to share her life with someone who adored her. If her home was ever going to be filled with laughter, joy, and many children.
The curse would have to be lifted first. For $35 dollars, The Psychic could light a ritual candle and undo the damage that these women did.
Celia decided to take her chances.
