One word becomes one idea, becomes one sentence, becomes one poem, becomes one story. It must start from just “one word”. Today my one word is “Mystic”.
…She was strikingly beautiful. She had this strong presence about her; an unusual and very strange magnetism. You just had to be there. You could feel it just being in her company. There was something about her I couldn’t explain. Truly, you just had to be there.
She had long auburn hair, tied back with a gold silk scarf. The scarf was adorned with sparkling rhinestones throughout. It was gorgeous. Her eyes were big and bright, and so alive. They were golden brown like a lioness, outlined by thick dark eyelashes. Her eyes were mesmerizing. They were piercing. She controlled you with her stare. She was just absolutely gorgeous. She had an olive complexion, and she wore a subdued berry color lipstick that brought her thick lips to life. She was about five feet four inches, medium build. Other than that, she wore very little makeup. Her looks were as simple and ordinary as they were fancy and elaborate. She was a toxic mix in a magical way. In her earlobes were these very large gold hoop earrings, with an intricate design in them, that reminded me of spider webs – but amazingly appealing to the eyes…and half her arm, from wrist to elbow, was dressed with colorful bracelets that jingled every time she moved. You know how some “fictional”, or maybe even some authentic, gypsies dress? Well that’s how she looked, if that gives you a better idea. I believe all mystics dress that way. I think you get the picture. She was absolutely stunning.
Anyway, she had on an ankle-length dress which had every color of the rainbow in it; all brightly woven into vertical stripes that shimmered in the sun. So very pretty. Her boots were black with pointy tips, and they appeared to be of top quality leather. She was uniquely, yet impeccably, dressed. I was in awe of her. I admired her attire, her mannerisms and her spirit… Her shawl was a shade of burgundy that reminded me of a deep merlot wine at its finest. It was tied in the front with a big knot near her upper chest, and fell so elegantly down to her waist, just above her hips. She was perfection; almost too perfect for this world.
She had a certain air about her that was confident, yet controlling. She knew it, and I knew it too. I loved listening to her speak, with that very pronounced foreign accent that added to the essence of her being. However, she became very persistent with me, but remained quite pleasant. It seemed as if she could make a statement by just looking at you, without exchanging words. She had a special power that would draw you in; that would lure you into her world. You knew you would soon embark upon a supernatural journey, with “her” at the wheel.
You really had to see her in person to fully understand the situation. Even her perfume was overpowering. It was like nothing I ever smelled before. It was a mix of herbs and flowers, with a hint of fruit. There was a bit of lavender and some rose extracts in the mix, and it was tantalizing. The aroma was as strange and beautiful as she was. It would almost place you under her spell. At least it seemed that way.
When she invited me to take a seat at a small round table covered with a black velvet cloth, I did. I was interested in hearing about my life – the good, the bad, the ugly; the past, the present and the future. I wanted to hear it all. I felt she would have the answers…Once she placed the tarot cards in front of me and looked into her crystal ball, I noticed her eyes turned bright amber, and raged like a burning fire. Her face became distorted within the light of day and the afternoon shadows…it was then that I became frightened. I knew if I stayed another moment, I would be entangled in her web of the macabre. I decided this was not the place for me. This was not the place I should be. So I politely excused myself and ran like hell. I felt her mysterious eyes upon me, and I heard her call out to me from a distance. She said in her strong pronounced foreign accent, “Come back my friend. You are in desperate need of my help. I am here to help you. I have warning from the Spirits of the Universe. You must return.” – I just kept running, and I never looked back. That was my first and last experience with a “Mystic”, better known as a common “fortune-teller”…Ha! All of the above was just a bit of fiction; but it could very well be a real experience. You decide, if you dare…
NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR:
The experience of a first encounter with a “Mystic” or, perhaps, a “Fortune Teller”, may be inviting, intriguing, magical, supernatural, revealing – or terribly frightening. It is up to the individual’s expectations. However, you must experience it to know.
OCTOBER 2019 AUTHOR OF THE MONTH at Spillwords.com
I am a freelance / indie writer (fiction, poetry, blog), residing in Brooklyn, New York. I retired from a Supervisory/Admin position with a Federal Law Enforcement agency in NYC, a few years back. Presently, I am pursuing my passion for writing, and most of my writing has that New York edge.