I Might Be Slightly Insane

Fate Of A Traitor - II

Sitting upon his prestigious throne high in the clear autumn sky, the sun shot rays of intangible gold down onto the buzzing city. Every street, every corner and every cranny of the fruit markets oozed with cheeriness and the air of a seemingly never fading excitement. Men in khaki trousers and bob-haired women in knee length skirts strutted down the streets with a bounce to their feet, teeth gleaming in smiles stretched from ear to ear. The carnival was a welcoming guest to this city that never slept. Its strange and thrilling colours bloomed and warmly accepted by the citizens eager to explore the thrills and unthinkable wonders. Nothing was off limits in a world pulsing to the beat of the Roaring Twenties.

“Come on, Molly! You’re going to miss all the fun!” The young woman laughed as she stood and watched her friend wrestle her way through the moving people with the long skirt gathered in one hand while the other holding a pink candy floss stick identical to her own.

“Calm down, Gwen,” The woman huffed as she made it to her friend, “the rides aren’t going anywhere.”

“I know. But there are just so many things here, and they all look so exciting! Besides, I promised Sebastian we’ll be back before nightfall. Honestly though, Ms. Richardson, if it wasn’t for you grandma outfit, we would have toured the place twice already.”

“I appreciate the comment, dear, but it is my own matters if I don’t wish to run around town flashing my assets for all to see,” replied Molly, holding her chin high in indignant, “After all, I’m not the married one, am I?”

Gwen’s eyes rolled.

“Whatever you say. What do you fancy now? I must say, that big Ferris wheel does look like an awful lot of fun.”

Molly’s proud stance slumped in the matter of seconds.

“Oh please, after what you’ve just put me through, believe me when I say I rather not.”

“Alright then,” Gwen sighed exaggeratedly though her mood lifted almost immediately as a colourful sign caught her eyes,” Look, Molly! Fortune Telling! Let’s have a look because if I can’t, maybe some psychic gypsy can tell you why you’re twenty-five and still a virgin!”

“God help me,” the poor woman muttered in vain to the sky before being dragged unceremoniously by her sugar-driven friend to the open doors of a burgundy coloured wagon behind a hand painted board reading simply, “The Fortune Teller”.

 “Good afternoon, ladies. How may I help you today?” Florica smiled her greetings as the guests settled down and managed to refrain themselves from gawking in wonderment at their surroundings. The doors snapped close, isolating them from the rest of the moisy world.

Immediately, Gwen’s eyes glued themselves to the woman in front of her, hands casually shuffling and spreading a deck of cards just to do it all over again. Despite reading countless books and seeing numerous printed posters, never in her life had she seen a real person with dreadlocks, or a necklace made of bones, or a purple v-shaped fringe. The sight was most enlightening. Gathering herself together, she put on her best dolly smile.

 “We want to ask about our future.”

 Typical ignorance, the gypsy chuckled softly in her head.

 “What do you wish to know?”

 “What can you tell us?”

 Giving a better look at the blonde woman in front of her, her hands stilled for a split of a second in realisation before mirroring a smile.

“Well, Miss…”

“Fitzroy. Mrs. Fitzroy. But you can call me Gwen,” Came the woman’s cheery response, never noticing the card almost flying like a dagger to embed itself deep in the wooden door frame,” And my friend here‘s Molly Richardson, but you can call her Molly.”

 Nodding her head sheepishly in acknowledgement, Molly forced a smile.

“Alright then. There are many things I can tell you, things you’ll never have the ability and courage to find out on yourselves. I can tell you what your future shall bestow upon you, misfortunes, good fortunes, foes, friends, loss, love…”

“Yes, that!” Gwen exclaimed excitedly.

“For you, Gwen?” Inquired Florica, causing the woman to burst out in a short fit of laughter.

“Oh no, for Molly here of course! She’s the lonely one. I, on the hand, am very happily married. Thank you.”

Catching the other woman’s pleading look out of the corner of her eye, the gypsy smirked and raised an eyebrow.

 “Are you sure?”

Taken aback by the odd inquiry, Gwen puffed her chest out defensively.

“What exactly do you mean by that? Of course I’m sure!”

“My apologies. Pardon my strange habit but I couldn’t help but noticing your golden locks, styled to perfection and the upper body of your dress is hugging closely to your torso, emphasising your slender figure. If I didn’t know better, I would say you are dressing to impress, something a happily married woman shouldn’t be concern about since she’d found a man who she no longer have to impress for love. The brown bags beneath your eyes, cleverly concealed by the many layers of cosmetics, suggest not enough sleep, overloaded with not many positive thoughts. You’re leaning slightly towards the left even when sitting, you can’t hold a posture.

“Your spine is aching yet numb from tossing around in an empty satin covered bed for the best part of the night unlike those fun-filled evenings between the sheets like when it all started. It’s been quite a while, hasn’t it dear? How long exactly? Three months? Four? Six? He’s been busy, hasn’t he? It’s been quite a while already for a married couple to exist with without a child.” Seeing her words had hit home, the gypsy let go of one of those single beat chuckles.

“You hide your pain with laughter and an ever bubbly face but I can see it, you can’t hide it from me. Your beautiful blue eyes, dear, they’re glowing with a false façade, concealing what I can only imagine to be an internal struggle. You can’t feel your legs from tensing them so much. I’m making you uncomfortable, your hands are trembling, your forehead’s sweating. You want to get out of here, you’re feeling violated. Am I speaking the truth, dear? Or do I need to get rid of the sign out there and start a career in pole dancing? I know you think I’ve got the figure, darling, I appreciate the compliment.”

Gwen was shaking, the bubbly good mood long forgotten. Her fists were clenched so tight that her perfect nails threatened to draw blood. Jaws aching from gnashing teeth, her intense stare held on tight to the Florica’s smirking one as her friend gawked on from the side with a gaping mouth.

 Rolling her tongue around, she finally found her trembling voice from the bottom of her throat.

“So what are you trying say?” Each word rolled out in what was a bit more than a whisper.

Putting the cards down, Florica leaned forward and took Gwen’s hand in both of hers, the smirk never leaving her own.

“You want a child. I can help you. Come back again, and bring him. I can help the both of you.” Pressing her lips to the woman’s ear, she whispered softly, “And keep this by your side at all times, it’ll protect you from sharp little bloodstained teeth of the monster they call future.”

“Gwen, answer me,” Molly almost shouted once they got out of the thickly scented wagon and into the fresh afternoon air, “What did she tell you?”

“Nothing, Molly, don’t worry about it,” Gwen replied, smiling but it didn’t reach her eyes, “You go home first, I’ll catch up with you later.”

Molly looked at her friend strangely but made no protest except a small warning.

“Whatever that gypsy told you Gwen, don’t believe it so easily. I have a bad feeling about her.” And with that, she left.

 The young woman looked on as her friend’s figure disappeared in the crowd and then down at the palm of her hand. The miniature gleamed back at her, carving Florica’s words deep into her mind.