Disbelief in the Stars

Amy peered through the peephole on her old apartment door. A tall man in an electric blue trench coat, black button-up shirt and pants with gold stars, wearing gold wire glasses stood on the other side.

“Can I help you?” Amy called nervously.

“My name is Ezekiel Cobra. I’m here to speak with an Amy Maestro. I have paperwork for her to sign about an inheritance she’s to receive from one of her uncles, Joseph Davenport.”

“Never heard of him. Thanks for stopping by.”

“He said you’d say that. He told me to mention something about you drawing a certain risqué picture in the bathroom of your high school for proof you know each other.”

Amy flushed at the memory of that particular incident. She hadn’t told anyone about that, how did this so-called uncle know?

“Okay, sure. Come in.” She released the deadbolt and let the strangely dressed, and named, man in before he blurted out any other past embarrassments.

Ezekiel was a giant in her studio apartment, easily looking over the top of her fridge. With his eagle view, he took in his surroundings. Amy looked around and realized in her rush to let the man in, she forgot about the disaster her apartment was. She rushed around, haphazardly tossing items to where they generally should’ve been.

“Sorry for the mess. I don’t get any visitors.” She flushed at the look he shot her way.

“I can see why, this place needs a little attention.”

“Can I help you with something, or was your intent to just insult my home?”

“My apologies, I didn’t mean to offend. Shall we get started?” He strode over to her kitchen table. In an instant, a battered suitcase was opened on top. An envelope and a small stack of papers were laid out neatly with a marbled fountain pen on top.

Amy sat opposite of the man. Though it wasn't very far away, it gave her a little more peace of mind. She stared at the papers in front of her, not quite knowing what she should be looking at or doing first.

“Here we are. Mister Joseph Davenport of 156 Cherry Lane, has left you his entire estate, totaling just over $1 million. There are some very specific conditions though. He has specified that you need to attend the Annual Spellmaker's Festival this weekend and speak with a woman named Seraphina Sarae at the Prophecy Tent. I have contacted Ms. Sarae and let her know you are on your way. Please have her call me on this number with her secret code and I will transfer the estate over to you." He held out a white card with silver printing to her.

"I don't believe in witches, wizards, psychics or any of that New Age-y crap." Amy eyed the card warily and folded her arms tightly across her chest.

There was movement on the floor. She glanced and saw the man's shadow quivering even though the man himself was completely still. Ezekiel glanced down at his shadow and gave it an annoyed look.

"May I ask why?" His voice now had a sharp edge and his eyes focused intently on her.

"I don't believe in anything. I like to think I'm in control of my life. Reading the future means I have no say in how my life turns out.'' Her tone was rough to hide the shakiness she felt at the shadow’s strange movements. She took a deep breath. I don't believe in New Age crap, she repeated to herself.

Ezekiel nodded, relaxing in the chair. "I understand, but I don't see it that way. I believe psychics can see your future the way you have already chosen. Our futures are our own, not predestined." He snapped his fingers and the papers on her table seemed to float into the briefcase as his hands moved around them but didn’t seem to actually touch any of them.

He closed his briefcase and rose easily from the chair. A tiny snap of the man's wrist made the shadow follow his lead. Amy could have sworn the shadow had still been lounging on the chair’s shadow. She squeezed her eyes tight for a minute before opening them and saw the shadow was matching the man’s movements, like they should.

"Give Seraphina Sarea a visit. You might not believe, or you want to think your life is your own, but she could tell you something that could change your life for the better. Unless you like how your life is going," He glanced around her tiny apartment and grimaced.

“Your choice. The Festival ends tomorrow night. An easy $1 million for just a quick, harmless talk?" He stepped out of her apartment and glanced back at her. “The inheritance will wait until after your talk, if you do decide to go. Don't forget the card!” He said in farewell.

A million dollars? There was no doubt she could use the money, but this sounded suspicious, she didn’t know this Joseph Davenport. Give a little of her self-respect to get a lot of money that would definitely get her out of this hole-in-the-wall apartment?

She made her pros and cons list. It's not like she was going to change her mind after just one visit. What was the harm?

She picked up the card off her kitchen table and gaped at the address. The Festival was at a shopping plaza? She tossed the card back on the table, shaking her head as she walked away. Nope, she wouldn't be caught dead at a New Age Festival, and in a shopping plaza, no less.

She finished her day, did the dishes, the laundry, and bills. Amy stared at her spreadsheet of income and expenses, the glaring red numbers held her gaze. They stared at each other for what seemed like hours.

A rustling sound from the kitchen table broke her stare-off with her monitor. The white card with silver printing was swirling around in a cyclone as it whirled around the table. Amy blinked at the unbelievable sight and closed her eyes in disbelief. The card was floating down to the floor when she looked again.

Amy ran to her bedroom and locked the door. Tugging the door to assure she was safe, she looked around the room. The setting sun shone through her hanging crystal teardrop pendant and cast a rainbow of colors around her room. The colors flowed over her and filled her with warmth. The card slipped under the door and the silver text projected its writing on her ceiling.

Amy stared at it with a scared wonder. She picked up the card with her fingertips, it was strangely warm. Holding the card seemed to give her a feeling of security and confidence. She took another look at the address written on the back. A sudden feeling of longing she couldn’t explain gripped her heart. She shoved the card into her pocket, grabbed her purse, and ran out the door.

A short ride and $15 later, Amy found herself staring at the brightly lit shimmering blue Prophecy Tent. She was hit by the obvious gimmicky-ness of it all and decided the fading feeling of longing wasn't worth it.

"Amy?'' A soft, musical voice called. She turned around and saw a medium-height woman dressed in a full-length, sequin-covered purple robe and matching bandana with gold moon and star earrings. Amy couldn't contain her snort of laughter as she looked the woman over again.

"I know, I totally look like the stereotypical fortuneteller, right?” The woman beckoned for Amy to follow her into the tent. "I know you're just here because of Joseph Davenport’s inheritance. Don't worry, no judgements from me. I see so many unbelievers, I'm used to it.''

Seraphina disappeared into her tent leaving Amy feeling a little silly. She dropped her head and quickly walked into the tent.

It was bright inside, lit with candles of all different shapes and colors. There was a table with a crystal ball and a deck of cards on top surrounded by three chairs. Seraphina was walking through a curtain of beads leading to the backroom, taking off her robe as she went.

"Come on back," Her voice floated to her. “'I know how fake all that psychic stuff looks to you. We can sit back here in my private room." Seraphina looked like a normal person now without her costume on. She gestured for Amy to give her the card.

"I see Zeke gave you his favorite flamboyant card. Must've given you quite a fright to see this dance around." The card twirled in response on each of her fingertips. She gave the card an affectionate rub and it curled around her finger with a crinkle. Seraphina winced slightly as the card cut her finger. She whispered to the card and tossed it into the air. It twirled rapidly in mid-air then disappeared with a flash of golden light.

“Wait! I needed you to call him with your code so I can get that inheritance." Amy was furious. Any hint of wonder or terror at seeing the card move by itself was gone as she watched the card vanish. She had not set aside her self-respect to be conned into whatever this was.

"Don't worry, he already knows you're here. That card is his pet. He only uses it on unbelievers. It's quite the showman, wouldn't you agree? Did it do anything special for you?"

"I’m not really sure what I saw it do." She bit her lip. She still didn’t, or couldn't, believe anything she’d seen tonight. It was all too weird.

"Seems like it thought you needed some extra coaxing. Now that you're here, how about we get started?" She sat down at a small table and motioned for Amy to give her hands to her.

Amy couldn't help but roll her eyes but did as she was told. Seraphina closed her eyes and gripped Amy's hands tightly. She whispered what sounded like a chant and hummed a quiet tune. They sat silently for a few minutes before Seraphina opened her eyes with a smile. She wrote a long message on the back of a postcard and handed it to Amy.

"Since I know you only came here because of an inheritance, I won't bother you with what I've seen. I wrote it all down, read it or not, it's up to you. If you want the best chance of believing me, read it next week after a power outage at work. You can reach me on the number here if you have any questions."

She patted Amy's hands. “'You have a wonderful future ahead of you. Enjoy your life." She handed her the postcard, a picture of a heart-shaped clock on top.

"Thanks." Amy put the postcard in her purse and left without a goodbye.

She stepped out into the oddly warm night. A tingle of electricity ran down her left arm. She rubbed it hard and started walking to the Festival's exit. A searing heat struck her heart, stopping her in her tracks. She doubled over and grabbed her chest.

A man stumbled into her and they fell to the ground. She looked into the man's golden eyes, a heavenly feel of comfort enveloped them. Amy felt drawn to him and didn't protest when she found herself wrapped in his arms.

"Where have you been?" The man asked in a daze. “I feel different, like you've filled my soul."

Amy's brain sent warning signals to her heart. She knew strange men saying sweet nothings to her was an immediate red flag, but the warning went completely ignored. She felt the same as him. She felt like she was home, a feeling she’d never felt before, even as a child with her parents and sisters. She pulled away to look him in the eyes.

"I'm Amy Maestro."

"I'm Joseph Davenport. My friends call me Joe."