𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐋 𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐒

Scene 2°

Sorry for the late update, I am seeing some strange things and also dreaming of slaughtered people (which is new) so I wasn't really feeling capable of updating.

Can't wait for Corona to be over so that I can actually get some help from priests.

°unedited
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Memorable town.

That is what I had always thought whenever I would visit my grandparents when I was a kid. Childhood was so simple, adulthood being almost unbearable to take.

As I took my surroundings in, remembering everything that I used to have done it this prairie, my mama waited in her car a bit more, before I heard her huff.

Locking the car door, she whispered a tiny "let's get it over with" in her mother tongue, before she dragged her feet over to my grandmas house.

The house stood out proudly from the rest, my grandparents wanting to bring in some good ol'  Croatian Secession into it. It really was a right thing to do. Beautiful decorative details in between the windows gave it a classy feeling, though I never really noticed it, up until now.

I just remember my grandparents not really being satisfied with it, cause it took less time to build it than in Croatia, so they did not trust it to keep standing for that long.

I had no more time to explore this artistic approach to architecture, as I followed my mama inside.

Scent of herbs filled my senses, mama not paying any attention to it, being able to come here whenever she wanted. She took her shoes off, giving me a look to better do it as well. Until this day, I could remember her yelling at me that "this is a Balkan household, therefore no shoes inside!"

I followed her instructions, taking my own shoes off and grabbing some slippers next to her, letting her lead me into the room left from the entrance.

"Dušo moja!* Sweetheart! You still don't know proper Croatian do you?" is the first sentance I heard, before even seeing her. Next ones were the typical I used to hear when I was a kid: "You have gotten so big! And so skinny, my goodness, have you not eaten properly? Grandma will change that- no, don't make that face, I already have soup cooking at the stove, the rest of the meat and potatoes is in the oven and when we are done with this, I am making that garlic sauce you always loved as a kid and-"

Mama interrupted her by saying something in Croatian, obviously tired of the whole ordeal and wanting to be done with this already. She did not feel comfortable with it, it was so obvious it was showing through her behaviour, so grandma listened and agreed. That is what I could tell, at least.

"Well then.." grandma said, clapping her hands together, before continuing, "shall we have a cup of coffee?"

Truly, this sentance frightened me.

Many would not realize why and that frightened me even more. Taking our silence as a confirmed answer, the three of us went into the kitchen, dining room being connected right to it.

As my grandma made some typical Turkish coffee, we chatted away, before I was told to explain my situation.

So, I told her everything as she mixed the contents of her džezva, on ocassion making a sound to tell me to proceed. She served us her coffee and the anxiety kicked in once more. Truly, it was frightening experience and I did not want to go through it once again.

"I am honestly considering not drinking it." I said, even though I was already aware of her answer.

"We must see your future to know which approach to take. Don't worry, sweetheart. If it is something really bad, this time I will not tell you, so don't fret."

And it was so.

We drank our coffees hot and black, without sweeteners or milk and only I was doing it with my left hand, preparing to hear what she had to say.

I remembered a part of it, turning my empty cup over three times the clock hands showed** before looking over at my grandma for help.

Grandma helped me out with the rest I forgot, telling me to take my cup of coffee, place the tiny coffee plate on it, turn it over and let it sit for a bit, letting the coffee residue drip. She also reminded me to keep the part, from which I drank, turned constantly toward myself.

And as I felt a panic attack approaching, residue dripping to decide my fate, mama moved her hair to the side, taking hers and grandmas coffee cups and plates before getting up to put them in a sink and placing a kiss atop of my head.

She washed the dishes and I felt my anxiety washing away as well. Indeed, I felt a bit calmer, but then my grandma told me to turn it over.

Grabbing the handle of my cup and the plate, I flipped them over, placing it to stand on the plate like it was meant to from the beginning. She came over to my side, slowly dragging the cup towards her, before she started to examine it.. and as she examined my cup, I examined her face, expecting to see the outcome of her reading.

But I should have known I would not be able to read her face.

It was frustrating, in a way. Truly it was so the last time she had done this as well, but at least I knew now, she had just seen something horrible, only because I knew what I was going through.

The calmness I had felt not so long ago, had dispersed.

She let the coffee cup down, sighed and looked at me, opening her mouth to speak.

As she did so, in this Secessian house, I felt my body secess.. like it was breaking in two.

"I know your past, so I did not bother by looking at the left side of the handle, the middle part that speaks of your current state had left me intrigued, so I thought that the right side of the cup would be more interesting."

"Right side decides my future, right?" I questioned, feeling a bit antsy by the lack of knowledge.

"Your future is decided on the right part, yes, but sadly it was blurry, so I looked at the upper part of the cup a bit closer. That part tells me what is going to happen in your close future."

There was a long pause.

Grandma spoke: "I do not suggest
that you make a wish and press onto any part, if I am being honest."

This shocked me. Was my future that horrible was it really going to be that bad?

She continued: "Thombstone, crow, cactus, chicken and a crocodile," and now I was confused more than anything. She saw it, so she said something that made my skin crawl. "Death. Each of these is a bad omen. All over, all I see is loss. We need to be quick."

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* Dušo moja - literal translation: Soul of mine / general translation: My sweetheart

** You need to turn the cup three times the way clock is showing, kind of difficult to explain.