Information

Okay, by popular demand, here is my latest piece of Flash Fiction. It was inspired by a prompt at Absolute Write (http://absolutewrite.com/forums)

I hope you enjoy my sneaky twist at the end…

INFORMATION

The old woman gazed into her crystal ball, then, after a minute or so looked up and smiled her toothless grin.“I know something you don’t know.”

“Well of course you do, you’re a bloody fortune teller.”

“Watch your mouth woman, or I shan’t reveal the path ahead.”

Marsha threw a five pound note on the table. “Let’s see if that loosens your tongue, old hag.”

Undaunted, the old crone picked up the note and with a wrinkled nose sniffed if from left to right. “Money alone can’t buy the information you seek.” She smiled again, but didn’t pocket the note. Her eyes remained cold and calculating. Marsha threw down a tenner and the woman picked it up quickly.

“…and yet,” began the witch, “I see…”

Marsha interrupted, sarcasm coating every word. “Let me guess, a tall dark handsome stranger?”

“…A child.”

“Bollocks. I hate kids; there are no brats in my future.”

“The child is a boy. He’s riding a tricycle…”

“There will be no children. I’m going to tie my tubes next week to damn well make sure of it. This is not my future. You’re a bloody fake.”

The old woman looked more intently at the ball. Marsha rolled her eyes. “I can’t believe I let my friends talk me into this.”

“There is no mistake. I see him again. It’s a beautiful child, like you the hair is fair, but the eyes are haunted. The child cries.”

“I came in here to find out who my future husband is. If there’s a child, there has to be a man. Tell me about the man…”

“The child has grown now, the child’s in trouble.”

“Enough!”

Marsha grabbed her purse, now lighter by fifteen pounds. “Well that was a bloody waste of good money.”

The old crone didn’t bat an eyelid. As Marsha left she looked more intently at the ball. Her toothless smile returned as she watched the image forming in the crystal.

The child was young again. Benny pedaled furiously on his tricycle towards the end of the empty pavement. Behind him, two women chatted and failed to notice as he reached the end of the road. Nor did they see the handicap ramp leading from the pavement to the highway.

Somewhere nearby, a car door slammed and an engine started abruptly. With a screech the BMW X5 pulled away from outside Madame Seer’s Psychic Palace. The driver failed to see the tricycle as it left the pavement; it was hidden behind a row of parked cars. Too late, little Benny saw the car as it raced towards him. But at the last second, the driver saw him.

Marsha screamed as Benny pulled out in front of her. For the briefest moment their eyes locked. The image of the blonde-haired boy burned into her irises as she veered head-on into the oncoming traffic. Benny’s eyes opened wide in terror, eyes that would forever be haunted by the horror in the young woman’s face just before she met her death.

The old crone merely nodded. Two wrinkled, blue-veined hands picked up a velvet cloth, and carefully covered the sphere in front of her. It had not failed her, and never would.

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