Some children can boast about
growing up in a mansion. Some on a farm, some in an
apartment, some in a house with
a white picket fence. I, however, surpass them all. My one and only
home has been the circus.
Yes. I, Linx Greyson, am a true carney. That
is not to say I am a freak. I am not seven feet tall, nor do I have an unnatural amount of muscles.
While I can walk on a one inch ledge and clamber up a pole in seconds, I am not a tight-rope climber or
an acrobat. I have all my limbs, no less, no more, not like the bearded lady,
who lost her finger to the tiger.
If I ever
ventured away from the tents and colourful wagons, away from the walls that
marked the boundary of my home, I might look like any average citizen. Sure, I
may be skinny enough to look good in the outfit of a medieval court fool, but I
don’t think the hat would flatter my face. Besides, I am a fortune teller, not
a fool.
We had
stopped on a night when the dark clouds were blocking out the setting sun. As I
sat watching the strong man and lion tamer set up the banner to welcome guests
to our humble circus, a beautiful young woman walked up to me. With a charming
smile and a flourishing bow, I welcomed her into my home.
“I am looking
for the main tent.” she said, hesitating near the door.
“In five
minutes you can leave here knowing not only where the tent is, but where you
will sit, when you will leave, and who will be the poor person volunteered for
a trick.”
She smiled nervously, but my hints
of the future lured her into my tent.
Now I am not
a fortune teller with a wart on my nose, my hair long and scraggly and a dozen
shawls covering my body. In
fact, I like to think I am quite fashionable. My hair is even custom cut by the
circus tailor. She claims that short,
blonde spikes are very popular among the kids. So I can see no reason why this
girl would be afraid of me. Maybe I was simply too confident. No matter the
reason, I can understand why she left mortified after what I had to tell her.
“Ah, yes, a
smart young woman. A good, healthy life so far.”
“I thought
you said you were a fortune teller.” The girl frowned
“I am. I can
see you will not die of sickness, nor do you walk in alleys alone at night.
That shows you at least have some common sense.”
She glared at me as if I had
insulted her.
“But moving
on…” I took her hand and traced the lines. Short, faded… “Well now, Miss
Abigale, it seems you may be healthy, but something will still go wrong.”
“I never told
you my name.” She stated
I nodded to her bag, where someone had
scrawled her name in orange highlighter. I then brought out a small velvet bag
and pulled out three stones, facing them down so that nothing showed. The first
one I turned over was Elhaz, a rune looking like a Y with the centre line going
up past the fork.
“How
interesting.” I mused. It was upside down. “Vulnerability and sacrifice.” The
next rune was Mannaz, a rune similar to the letter M. “But there may be hope, if you accept it.”
“And the last one?” She gazed worriedly down
at the stones.
I flipped it over: Lagaz, a simple line with a shorter line
falling down to the right. Also upside down, a
very bad sign.
“If you do
not take my advice, you may be in for a rough night.” I tore my gaze away from
the stones to look at her.
“And your
advice would be?”
“Run.”
((And once again, all that copyright stuff. Don't take credit for any of my work.))
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