The Fortune Teller (One Direction)

Chapter 1 - Gypsy Woman

Upon entering the tiny, out-of-sight shop in the far corner of the busy marketplace, my lungs had immediately filled with burning incense. Vanilla, I could smell. Cinnamon, too. As I dragged my feet across the dusty floorboards I found jasmine and lavender also lurking in the cloudy air. My head was near exploding from the powerful odour.

In front of me stood a large wooden desk, and behind that hung deep purple drapes, huge golden tassels falling from the sides. To my right was a dusty bookshelf, covered in dusty books. Cabinets on the walls held a hundred differently coloured bottles, some carrying viscous liquid, some simply for show.

To be honest, I was barley interested in any of the strange artefacts lying about this small room. I hadn’t come in here to awe at the many potions or to look up palm reading in some old book.

The fancy sign above the door outside had ‘Life and Love’ spelled out in huge letters, and ‘Fortune telling’ written in smaller print below. That’s why I went here.

I’m not one of those people who lives for horoscopes, not daring to wear red when you’re advised not to by a stranger in a poorly designed magazine. I don’t even believe in being able to know the future before it happens. I think that everything happens for a reason, and when you know what’s going to happen you might change your life to make it better, therefore ruining whatever you were needed for in the first place.

However, I was drawn to this hidden dwelling. Abandoning my friends, telling them I wanted to get a present for my grandma, I dashed into the shop with a bit too much enthusiasm.

The chime above the door to announce my entering was not needed, as the ancient floorboards creaked so loudly I had jumped in fright, only to laugh at myself seconds later. After a few minutes of being in the shop, from behind the purple drapes emerged a woman wrapped in a rainbow shawl.

I had expected something much more grand than this. She looked more like a hippie than a fortuneteller. You see in all the old movies, women dressed in long flowing skirts and puffy shirts, both trimmed with huge gold sequins with a red bandana to match. She looked nothing like this.

Her dark brown hair fell onto her shoulders without a care, a plastic rose pushed behind her left ear. I could see beneath her shawl she was wearing a flowery summer dress, which made me think her an optimist, seeing as it’s February in England.

She looked no older than fifty. Her face was young, only the bags under her eyes would make you think her older. In her eyes I could she was full of life, even if she moved with the stiffness of an old lady. Her eyes glowed electric blue, like they were full of power and energy.

I watched as she shuffled across the floor and came out from behind the desk to greet me.

“You are heer with three friends, yes?” she rasped in her Latin American accent. Obviously a fake.

Like I said, I don’t exactly believe in this kind of thing, but I also know not to be fooled by these fortune-tellers. So she knows I’m here with my friends? Well, the entire front of the shop is clear glass, bar the door, so that’s obviously no mystery.

I may have her sussed out as a phoney, but my confidence completely failed me, and I could only nod at her as a reply. Her small mouth twitched into a smile, and she nodded back. Shuffling back towards the desk, she beckoned for me to follow.

-

Behind the purple drapes was another room, similar to the other in décor. At the back was a window with broken blinds closed tightly shut. In the centre of the room was a round table dressed with a scarlet tablecloth. Around it sat three chairs; one nearest to the door, and two placed directly next to each other nearer the window.

There was no crystal ball on the table, which I thought strange as well as reassuring. If she had a crystal ball and a fake accent, I knew all too well she was just a joker.

I sat on the chair closest to the door and she sat opposite me, on the chair on her left.

“Issa,” she said, and I nearly fell off my chair. How did she know my name? Still I couldn’t say anything. Damn, her stupid eyes were powerful. Before continuing she sat back in her chair, relaxed, smirking, “I get zee sense you do not fully believe in my line of work, no?”

“No.” I replied, finding my voice eventually. “How did you know my name?”

She laughed, “I know a lot about a little, my dear.” She clasped her hands together and stared at me with her piercing eyes. “You are such an eenteresting case, too.”

“…Pardon?” I looked at her, hoping to actually understand what she’s talking about if I don’t stare around the room at the scattered tarot cards.

Her mouth twitched again, “If you don’t believe in all of this,” she plucked a tarot card from the floor and held it up, so I couldn’t see the face, “then why are you here?”

This is something I had wondered ever since I found myself outside the front door. Nonetheless, I pushed the wooden door open and walked inside, without a valid reason to go in. I just thought, ‘what the hell!’ and skipped over.

Stumped, I replied “I…I don’t know.” and saw her face light up. The tarot card that had previously been trapped between her fingers, was slammed onto the table, face up.

It showed a picture of a flaming orange sun at the top of the card, and large green vines surrounding the bottom. Drawn in the middle were a boy and a girl, facing each other. They both had brown hair and blue eyes. Like they were a perfect match. Printed at the top were the words, The Sun.

The gypsy woman looked at me expectantly, so I simply asked, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

She smiled, “It’s means your future. Well, the next few weeks, anyway. Want to know more?”

I found myself nodding, and she closed her eyes, rested her hands on the table and began to whisper in a spooky voice, which made a shiver run down my spine.

“You must find Happiness, and with Happiness you will find your chance.” She stopped, eyes still shut, and flung the card from the tabletop, “But this chance must be treated well, or it will all blow up in your face.” On the last word she opened her eyes and threw her arms up, emphasising the ‘blow up in your face’ part. 

I didn’t move. I was worried she might say something else. We stayed silent for some time, in which I stared around the floor, looking for the discarded tarot card.

Suddenly, the fortuneteller spoke again, “Well, dear, your session has ended.” at the exact moment she spoke, the clock chimed to tell us it was twenty-five past three.

“You must come back some other time, Issa” she tells me as she escorts me back through the purple drapes, across the creaky floorboards and through the wooden door, “After all, what’s a fortune teller without a full deck of tarot cards?”

Before I could ask what she meant, the door had been slammed in my face, and I was left in an empty alley way at the edge of the market.

What did she mean ‘without a full deck?’. That room was full of cards - surely if she’d lost any, they’d be in there? Apparently not.

As I dove my hand into my pocket to extract my phone, I found something else in there, too.

How on earth did the Sun card get into my pocket?!

I studied it carefully. Yep, definitely the right card. I flipped it over and saw on the back of it, someone had scrawled in violet ink Ask for Vita.