The fortune teller.
She kept staring at me. At first I thought you know, she mistook for someone else. But as time went on, I started getting freaked out, as every time I went, she stared at me, as if I’d grown two heads or something.
This year was no exception.
Okay, I’ve told you the opening paragraphs for my story and you’re probably wondering, who is this strange person who babbles on about fortune tellers of all things.
Well, my name’s Rachel Oaks. I’m seventeen and I live in Co. Cork, Ireland. This is a real place. I have long black hair and get this, I was born with violet eyes, of all things. A lot of you are probably thinking, "That would be so cool.", but trust me it isn’t. All the stares you get, and the comments can be really hurtful sometimes. I’ve got bullied countless times and have changed schools at least four times since I turned twelve. It’s the same in every school. The names, the stares and the jeers. You get used to it eventually.
When I was fourteen I used to daydream that this meant, I was special maybe, but I gave up on that long ago. I was just terribly normal - well apart from the eyes I mean. When I was younger the only salvation I got, was when I read The Song of the Lioness books, by Tamora Pierce. Her main character had violet eyes and it gave me some comfort, even though the character wasn’t even real. Recently, I found those books again, under some old school exam papers (I’m crap at keeping my room clean) and have got into them again.
Anyway, on with the story.
I had somehow come up with the idea that she stared at me because of my eyes. I wasn’t concerned - I got stares all the time and was by now, used to them. But as the years went on, I got the feeling it was more. More than my eyes.
I’m a nutcase aren’t I?
Anyway, this particular night, the Carnival had come. I went down, alone. I’d just changed schools again and had realized it was the same Carnival that I had gone to my whole life. It seemed to almost follow me around. freaky. I’d no friends yet, as I wasn’t starting school until September, and was pretty clueless as to where everyone went.
Anyway, I saw the Fortune Teller and this time, decided to confront her. To be honest, I was pretty sick of her staring at me all the time.
So, I eventually got to the front of the queue and went inside and sat down.
It was a normal caraven, well the part she lived in. The part where she did her readings was half-normal, half-out-of-this-world kind of thing. I saw a pack of Tarot Cards in a corner, a Crystal ball on a small table. I saw a poster of the Moon and it’s yearly cycle thing, under the couch. A box of teabags was there too. I didn’t know if she actually drank them, or cut them and did readings at the bottom of the cups. I saw a bottle of orange juice stashed in another corner. And I thought I was disorganised.
The she came up to me and sat down. It wasn’t until she was sitting directly opposite me and we were at opposite ends of the small table, did she actually look at me. I saw her eyes widen as she recognised me. "Why are you here?" she asked me. Her voice was soft and musical.
She was a normal woman. Her soft, brown eyes the colour of rich chocolate were huge and focused on me. She had long curly black hair, tied back and smooth light brown skin. She looked no more than her late twenties.
"I want to know why you’re always looking at me," I answered. "And I figured I’ve time to kill, so why didn’t I get a palm reading done." I shrugged.
The last part of my sentence got a smile out of her. Then her face turned serious. "You’re special," she said softly, her voice no more than a whisper.
"Oh." I groaned. "Not this crap again."
"What do you mean?" she asked me.
"All my life, when people see my eyes, the first thing they come up with, is that I’m special and destined for great things. I’m so sick of it."
"Your eyes are only part of it," she replied. "Your heritage has more to do with it."
"What do you?" I asked, taken aback. No one used this approach before.
"You were born, to do great things," she told me. "The stars proclaimed it, the moment you came to this world. And the reminder is your eyes."
"I don’t believe you," I said, anger coming in. "That is the caziest thing I’ve ever heard."
But she ignored me and took my hands in hers, palm upwards. "Something is to happen," she said, after staring at them intently. "Something is to happen."
"What?" I asked, fear somehow creeping in. Oh grow up, I told myself.
"Something that will change your life forever," she told me, looking directly into my eyes. "You will find the reason for your living and you might find other things, you never thought possible."
"Such as?" I asked, intrigued despite myself.
She shook her head. "I cannot see anymore. I’m sorry. That’s all I can tell you. Seven pounds please."
I reluctantly gave her the money. She had given me more questions than answers. And I’d no idea what they’d meant.
I walked home after that. I wasn’t in the mood for fun after that. Even though I’d have had it on my own.
I’d been walking home for half an hour, when it happened. I was going to take my Driving Test when I turned eighteen, but I already knew how to drive, but it was illegal for anyone under eighteen to drive on public roads, so I had to walk. And it took about an hour for me to walk home, as we lived out in the country.
I had pushed the Fortune teller’s words to the back of my mind and was instead trying to keep myself warm. It had turned unusually cold for July. It felt more like November. Then the car came swerving around and swerved madly on the road, twisting from side to side. I knew imediately the driver was drunk and tried to get closer to the ditch, but there was nowhere to go. I’d a terrible feeling.
I was right. The car swerved towards me and didn’t see me until it was too late. It barrelled straight into me. I remembered being flung into the air, hovering suspended in the air for a moment then hitting the road hard. The last thing I remembered and felt was the sharp crack of my head walloping off the road and a sharp pain in my left temple...
