THIRTY - Fortune Telling in a Fanny Pack

441 84 52

MONDAY, JANUARY 14th

I've never met a high priestess of an ancient coven before, but Daisy Archibald was not what I was expecting. She brandished no sceptre or ceremonial athame (I Googled witch tools, just to be clear), and she wasn't wearing a hooded cloak and heavy black eyeliner, which is how I would have imagined a high priestess to look.

When we got to the diner after school, Scarlet hushed us and pointed to a woman ordering a coffee at the counter. Scarlet told us that was Daisy. I nudged Lincoln, who I had convinced to come with us (by promising to write his English essay for him by next Friday) but he just shrugged and said, yeah, I know, that's her.

I couldn't believe it. She didn't look supernatural in the least. She was in her sixties, and was wearing spandex bicycle shorts, a polka-dot shirt, gumboots with hand-painted slugs on them, and a blue plastic fanny pack around her waist.

Scarlet told us she keeps dried apricots in the fanny pack, and that they are kind of her signature trademark. I just nodded because, really, what does a person say to something like that?

Anyway, Scarlet went up and paid for our readings ($5 for five minutes, which apparently, is a steal), and then Daisy told us to wait at a table while she set up in the back room.

While we waited, Scarlet explained to us that intuitive readings were different from psychic readings, because intuitive ones read each person's individual energy.

But I'm getting ahead of myself.

I went first, because I wanted to get it over with. Also, if this Daisy witch person was going to tell me anything horrible, I'd have some time to digest the news while the others had their sessions, instead of running out into the street in a fit of terror.

The Back Room wasn't much bigger than a bathroom, and, except for a psychedelic lava lamp bubbling away on the corner of a circular table, it was dark. There was some music in the background, too, some of those solfeggio beats that Jocelyn likes so much.

Daisy sat on one side of the table, and I across from her, and then she asked to hold my hand, which was a bit creepy, but seemed appropriate given the circumstances...I guess. Her hand was leathery and dry, and one of her crystal rings dug uncomfortably into the palm of my hand. 

We chatted about nothing for a few moments, and then she let go of my hand and leaned back in her chair and started to make some strange non-human sounding noises. I thought maybe she was going to start speaking in tongues or something, but it turned out she just had a piece of dried apricot stuck in her throat.

She told me I had recently undergone a huge change in my life, and that I was trying to find my place in my new world. So, yup, that would be accurate. She also said that I had a golden aura, which is rare, and this means I am vibrating high spiritually, and, in her words, am a true visionary. She said I need to step into my power and be open to receiving gifts. (I didn't say as much, but I'm always open to receiving gifts. How about a new PlayStation 4? Ha ha.)

I asked Daisy about spirit animals, and if raccoons were something I was spiritually connected to, but she just looked perplexed and said, "Raccoons? Highly doubtful. Just rodents with fancy tails if you ask me."

This was a bit of a red flag for me, because raccoons are not rodents; they are of the Procyonid family, and I would have thought that a witch—particularly one of high ranking—would have her wild creature facts straight. The Wicca religion, is, after all, a nature-based faith.

But I kept my mouth shut, and it's a good thing I did, because what Daisy Archibald said next was really disturbing. She leaned across the table and stared me in the eyes for what seemed like an eternity and then she said, "You poor boy...the challenge you have before you will be like scaling Everest...just stay the course and know that the lessons you will learn now will serve you your whole life. Be strong, Myles. Be strong."

I'm not even kidding. That's what she said. So, great. Now I get to add to my already anxious state with the knowledge that I've got some huge catastrophe in my future. Because everyone knows that "challenge" is just a friendlier way of saying, "shit show."

After my reading, I consoled myself with a hot chocolate, and tried my best to look nonchalant and all "don't care-y." I told Lincoln that the woman was clearly a few bricks short of a load, but that the music was kind of cool, but when he came out after his session was done, he was all smiles, and said that he now had the balls to ask Sophia Chen, this girl at our school, out on a date. Because, apparently, he was told he is a burning hunk of testosterone, or something like that. That was the second red flag for me, because, not to be a dick or anything, but Lincoln is (a) severely vertically challenged, and (b) looks a bit like Dobbie from Harry Potter. Sorry, but it's true.

Ivy said her reading was "cool," and that apparently her aura is sky blue which means she is truthful and serene and excels in the art of communication. I think this is just a nice way of saying Ivy talks. A lot. But who am I to interpret such things.

Scarlet was tight lipped about her experience. All she said was she should have spent her five dollars on a grilled cheese sandwich, because she had forgotten her lunch today. Then she got super sulky and said she had to go home because her aunt was coming over to put low-lights in her hair, whatever that means.

So, do I feel better knowing I am a true visionary with a mammoth challenge in my future? No. Not really. Not at all. I feel kind of thrown off my bike, to be honest, and I wish I hadn't gone. Why is it, I wonder, that my little evening chats with Peterson have made me feel stronger and more in tune with my feelings than my session with a highly respected high priestess of an ancient coven?

I think, from now on, I will experience my personal spiritual awakening on my own. That's pretty much what the woo-woo book that Mom and Jocelyn gave me says to do. And come on, who wears a fanny pack these days, anyway? Just sayin'...

***

(Votes are wonderful dopamine-inducing things. Please feel free to drop one here. 😁)

THE PECULIAR LANGUAGE OF LLAMASWhere stories live. Discover now