The Highlander

Chapter One

"Mark, look, I know you like me, but I just don't like you like that." Mark put his head down as my words started to sink in. I continued, "Look I'm trying to be as nice as possible. I just think that out there, there is someone who likes you, likes you a lot more than you could imagine. The same for me. Anyway, I think Paula likes you. You should have asked her to come."

"I hope you're right," Mark said, looking back up at me, "friends?"

"Friends." I accepted Marks little finger and me hugged each other, before I took my phone out of my pocket and handed it to him, "call Paula. Before Macy gets back and drags you onto a ride." Mark gladly took the phone and quickly kissed me on the cheek and said, "you'll find someone soon." I smiled and walked over to Macy who was calling me over.

"I hope!" I yelled over my shoulder to him, "Just drop my phone off at my house tomorrow! On your way back from Paula's!" I joked and he smiled and shook his head before looking back down at the phone.

"Hey Macy." I said as I walked up to her, Harry was over at the cotton candy machine exchanging money for two bright pink clouds. Harry swiftly made his way over to us, passing me a stick of pink sugar and pointed the end of another towards Macy who then proceeded to take handfuls and not so lady like, shove it in her mouth.

"So," Macy said as she chewed the cotton candy, not waiting to finish before she piled more in and speak at the same times, "how'd lover boy take the rejection?"

"Ok," I replied, "he's now currently inviting Paula to come here." I placed more candy in my mouth. It tingled on my tongue before dissolving into nothing and the sugary taste soon disappeared.

"Cool!" Harry exclaimed. His face looked like a six year old at Christmas.

"What?" Macy turned to him, "you into Paula now?" Accusation was thick in her tone. Harry looked confused for a second before realisation struck and he gaffed before saying, "No, no, I meant- look, a psychic! I've wanted to go to one for years, but they never had them at the fair." Harry pointed to an old, flickering sign which read, 'Psychic' and had a symbolic looking eye under it.

"I'm not going in there," Macy said, and before Harry could interrupt her she held up a hand, her signature 'shut up', sign, "I don't want to get raped by some freak who says they can see my future, you know what, I can see his and its purple and blue balls."

"Oh please!" Harry begged like a four year old child, completely ignoring the sick and strange rant Macy just had. "How about we send Ro in first? If she comes out screaming, I won't make you go in!"

Macy smiled, "Ok." I looked at the pair and thought; they are going to get married. They have got the perfect similarity, insanity.

"If you think your sending me in as a human tester, then no," I said, "like hell am I going to get attacked for your future. Forget it Harry. And Macy, stop looking at me like I'm some lab rat you can't wait to spray some cheap perfume on and see if it squeals. I mean it."

"You're going. Now."

* * * * * * * * 

"What's your name?"

"Um, Rosaline" I answered. I sat on a seat, which I was sure was the guy's dining room chair decorated with a bit of flimsy see through material in dark earthy colours. The room I was sat in was small. In the centre, a small round table with a box of tarot cards, a few scattered candles and a match box. Also a few incense stick burning. The tent was black, inside and out, which made the green grass beneath my feet look a ghoulish grey.

"Are you sure?" the man asked as he turned away from the tent opening, letting the curtain fall and leaving us in darkness, only the candles providing light. "I mean, you didn't sound so sure."

Confused, I just nodded my head and gave a quick, forced smile and said, "Yeah, yeah, um, it's Rosaline."

"Good," the man sat down, his face was illuminated by the candles, "then we can begin." The man was old; my guess would be in his fifties or sixties. His brown hair was greying and when he was turned away before, I thought I could see a small bald patch at the back of his head. His skin looked grey and wrinkled and his body thin and delicate. His eyes were a stark contrast to the rest of this old, dying man, a bright energetic green; they stood out and captured my attention.

"Rosaline?" I heard a voice, but it was faint and blurred, like someone trying to shout while underwater. The voice came again and once more and then-

"Rosaline? Can you hear me?" the man's voice hit me like glass shattering and the blur blocking his voice was gone. I snapped out of my haze, blinking rapidly and tearing my gaze from his eyes.

"Sorry, what were you saying?" I said. The man looked at me weirdly before giving me a big, toothy smile, "nothing dear. Now, if you could just place your hands on top of mine, yes, that's it, oh, palms down dear, perfect." I followed his instructions till my hands were above his, close, but a few millimetres of air was between our palms. Or there was until he grabbed my palms and slammed them on the table, hard and fast, causing some of the candles to go flying of the table. I was shocked, and scared, and the pain hurt so much, I thought I broke both my hands. His strength surprised me as I tried to pull them free but it was if he had a grip of iron. The man's eyes were closed and he seemed to be chanting something, whispering words under his breath.

I noticed one of the candles had bounced onto the pooling material of the black tent which was only a mere meter away. The bright orange flame set the material alight, the tent slowly starting to glow brighter and brighter.

"Sir! Sir!" I screamed as I watch the tent around us burst into flames.  I tried to pull free from him again but he held my hands down firm. I begged him to let me go but he wouldn't release my hands, and the flames, they were licking and biting just above my head, millimetres from my arms and legs. I felt my skin burn, the heat was too much and the smoke was making me choke and I felt like I would cough out my internal organs.

The burning in my throat was unbearable and my head felt fuzzy, the bright orange glow became a fuzzy image as my head started to slowly fall to the table. It hit the table with little force and my head lolled to the side. I saw the blurred man still chanting, still whispering, even in the flames. He still held my hands, his eyes wee still closed. He looked like some demonic angel sent up from heaven to turn the world into flames.

I blinked. And again. And again. And then the heat sucked up all the moisture form my eyes and this time, my eyes stayed closed. With one of my senses gone the notice around me became fierce. I could here people outside the tent scream and call for help. I started to hear the saint sound of hissing as water struck the fire from outside the tent. I could here the stomp of boots, and as they got closer, I guessed people had entered the tent. I felt someone grab at my arms, under my armpits, but I wouldn't move, couldn't move. The man's grip on my hands, the pressure of his hands pushing down on mine was still strong.

I could hear the men shouting, arguing and then the hands on me were gone. They left me to die.

Then the noise went, and all that was left was the loud thunder of the flames. They seemed to grow, and get louder until there was nothing. I could hear my self breathe, once, twice, and then I let out my final breath. And the flames took over.