Tales of Imagination

Madam Sophie


Madam Sophie lit the incense sticks in the mind reading room and dimmed the lights once again. “Next, please,” she spoke through the black curtains to her final customer in the waiting room. A young lady with curly brown hair shuffled through the thick, dark cloth and aromatic smoke. “Please sit,” she commanded to the lady. “Each question is one hundred dollars.”

The lady already had a one hundred dollar bill curled up in a sweaty palm.  “And what question do you have for me this evening?” The lady handed the madam the wet bill.

“Did he forgive me?”

“Did who forgive you?” Madam Sophie was always the one who asked the most questions. After all, how can you help a customer if one does not know all the facts.

“My husband. Did he forgive me before he left?”

“Yes.. your husband,” the madam began as she gazed into the crystal ball on the table. “Uh, yes…he seemed quite upset.” Madam Sophie was always her sharpest in the beginning of the day. In the nighttime, however, she was exhausted and ready to go home. “Yes…I see him…did he have darkish hair?”

“No, it was blond and sandy.”

“Yes…that’s correct. Would you say a sandyish blonde?”

“Yes! That’s him!”

Madam Sophie was skilled in the art of persuasion and psychology. Nevertheless, she was tired from the day and wanted to make her last appointment brief. “Your husband wants you to be with him. He said he loves you and forgives you and wants you to go back to him now.”

The lady’s face grew sad. “I didn’t mean to kill him.”

“What!?” Madam Sophie’s eyes widened with surprise.

“He told me several times to turn off the main electricity valve. I thought I did. Maybe I turned it the wrong way. Maybe I turned it off and on again. I know he’s upset but I’m glad he wants me to go home. Thank you, Madam Sophie.” The lady got up from her chair and headed out of the curtains toward the front door.

“Wait!” Madam Sophie called. “Where are you going?”

“To be with Eric like you told me to.”

“I didn’t know he was dead. Sometimes this crystal ball gives erroneous signals.”

“Thank you, Madam Sophie. He wants to be with me. That’s all I need to know.”

The loud shot that followed a few seconds later did not need an explanation. Madam Sophie ran to the front door where the neon green crystal ball blinked by the entrance of her boutique. On the steps below was the lady, folded in a peculiar way with blood oozing out of her mouth. A pistol was inches from her hand.

Copyright 2015 by Diamond Mike Watson.

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