Author's Note:

An update without a new chapter: say WHAAAT?!

Don't worry; I promise I am working on Chapter 23 of Second Chance and it will get finished… As soon as I get over my writer's block. To try and muster up some inspiration, I'm taking the time to go back through previous chapters and "clean house", as it were. I'm hoping to make my work flow a bit better (that's what happens when you start writing something without a solid clue as to where to take it until five years later) and correct any mistakes that I might have made it through proofreading.

SO. With that, here's a revamped Chapter 1. Chapters 2 and 3 are on the way!

Sincerely,

Amaryllidinae

One

A STRANGE SERIES OF events lead up to where I found myself now.

First of all, I hadn't planned on going to the midway. If my friends—Rachel and Sean—hadn't "kidnapped" me, none of this ever would have happened… At least I like to think so. I had been sitting and minding my own business in my parent's driveway, not hurting anyone as I polished my motorcycle and absorbed some of the July sunshine. Well 'frying out in the blazing July sun' was really a more accurate description, but whatever. Anyway: so there I was, minding my own, when my friends had raced up to the curb, the tires on Sean's sedan practically smoking, and Rachel had yanked me into the back seat before speeding away.

Secondly, I hadn't wanted to participate in Rachel's compulsion to dwell on the supernatural. Much to Rachel's disappointment, I confessed to her years ago that I don't believe in magic, or faeries, or werewolves, or ESP. Never the less, either because of her pig-headed determination or a zero-fucks-given mentality, she has dragged me to see over a hundred 'witches', Gypsies, 'mediums', and mambos throughout our decade-long friendship. None of them have told me anything impressive or opinion-altering, so it still seemed like a terrible idea to me, ten years later, to give away five of my hard-earned dollars to yet another 'witch'.

So, thirdly, that was how I wound up in the middle of a field with nothing more than a useless cellphone, an invalid driver's license, and a lighter.

But I'm getting too far ahead of myself. Let me back up a bit.

My name is Felicia Kristen Rhys. My friends—who I mentioned earlier as being Rachel and Sean—call me Flic. I'm twenty-seven years old, five-foot-seven, skinny, and pale (for a white girl). My hair is brown, my eyes are green-blue, and I have 'enough' piercings (as my mom always says)—most notably a ring through my septum and a stud nestled in my philtrum. I play the guitar, sing, love motorcycles, the colour blue, and anything that has strawberries in it. Gymnastics is my sport of choice, I swear like a trucker when I get mad, and happen to have a mean right hook (I was trying to get into boxing at one point, but my mom found out and squashed that dream). My mom's name is Joan and my stepfather's name is Roland; the three of us—along with my cat, Sabbath—live together as a rather dysfunctional family in a big house in Canada (eh?).

Much better. Now, where was I? Oh, right: the midway.

So, after I had been kidnapped and towed away from the safety of my driveway, Sean, Rachel, and I spent the whole day at a carnival that comes to town once a year. I even ended up having a good time. We went on ninety percent of the rides that the fair had to offer, consumed more sugar than I usually take in during the course of a month, and watched a few of the sideshows. I had even tried my hand at bull riding—well, mechanical bull riding, but it's not like it matters now anyway.

Please excuse me if I get a little melodramatic. You'll understand why in a bit.

But let's get back to the story.

"So," Sean sighed as he rubbed his stomach. "Are we ready to leave? It's eleven-thirty, but we should be able to find a restaurant that's open somewhere. Denny's is always an option."

"How can you possibly be hungry after everything you've eaten?" Rachel demanded. "You've eaten more food than Flic and I put together; you should be throwing up."

I couldn't argue with Rachel on that point. Sean had eaten at least twice the amount of junk that I had and should have been doubled over with a stomach ache or at least suffering from indigestion.

"I'm a growing boy," Sean smiled before sticking his nose in the air, pretending to be offended. "I have to eat."

Reaching around tiny Rachel, I poked beanpole Sean in the gut. "All of that is going to go right to your hips, you know."

"I have tricks when it comes to maintaining my girlish figure," he teased.

I rolled my eyes. "Sure you do. Let's just head back to my place: I couldn't eat any more food if my life depended on it."

"Same here," Rachel grumbled as she rubbed her stomach. "I think I'm going to have to raid your medicine cabinet for some Pepto, Flic."

"Let's hurry back then," Sean muttered, disappointed that we wouldn't be going out.

"Agreed," I laughed as we rounded a corner that would bring us towards the main gates. That was when I saw it.

During the course of the day, thousands of people had been at the midway. So many, in fact, that you really couldn't see much of anything unless it was something tall—like the sign for a ride, a banner for a booth, or some idiot on stilts. The crowd hid anything short (like children, garbage cans, and the elderly) until you quite literally tripped over it (… I'm totally not speaking from personal experience). That was why, thirty minutes before the grounds closed for the night, I saw the little wooden sign that would have been invisible earlier.

"Oh!" Rachel squealed when she saw the tiny hand-painted sign, grabbing Sean and me by the arm before we could run away. She proceeded to tow us both over for a closer look.

As I said, it was a small sign. Standing no more than three feet tall, it was a folding-panel type affair made from two pieces of wood that had been painted white and hinged together. Large black cursive letters advertising "Melany the Witch" were scrawled on both sides above a small red arrow pointing to the left. A little glass lantern with a candle burning inside was chained to the sign, the light it gave off eerie in a way that made my skin crawl.

I knew what Rachel was going to say before the words came out of her mouth.

"We have to go see her!" She pleaded, bouncing up and down with excitement. Sean and I shared a knowing glance.

"We don't have to do anything," Sean groaned as he tried to detach Rachel from his arm. Her fingers wouldn't budge.

Here we go again. "Yeah, Rachel, really. She's just another phoney like every other psychic, medium, and 'witch' you've ever made us waste money on."

"They're not fake," she pouted, obstinate. "Besides, we've hardly done anything that I wanted to do today." Even though that wasn't completely true (Rachel is the type who's scared to do a lot of things until she tries them and then can't get her fill, so Sean and I have to 'force' her to try a lot of stuff), I hated it when she guilt tripped me into doing what she wanted. It reminded me of my mom and I didn't like to think of Rachel like that.

Sean and I looked at each other again, my resignation echoed plainly on his face.

"Yay!" Rachel bubbled, knowing that she was going to get her way whether Sean or I like it or not. "Come on!"

I let Rachel tow me along by my elbow away from the exit to the parking lot and towards the most out of the way corner of the carnival. Glass lanterns, exactly like the one chained to the sign, were staked in a path throughout the park. As the three of us raced along—Rachel was running at an almost frantic pace; she was afraid that Melany would close her house of lies before we got there (heaven forbid…)—I couldn't help but think how I could have missed something like that. Even though it was hard to see anything close to the ground, you think I would have noticed a bunch of old-timey glass lanterns that were staked into the ground. Sean, Rachel and I had even visited this corner of the carnival at one point during the day and I couldn't seem to recall seeing anything other than a few scattered booths, some benches, and a bunch of flowerbeds.

It took us a minute to get there but, eventually, we came to a stop at the end of the lantern-lit pathway. A gold and red Gypsy caravan, sans horse, greeted us with another larger sign advertising "Melany the Witch: $5.00 per session". To my surprise, seeing the antique mobile home sent an unwelcome shiver up my spine.

Rachel could hardly contain herself when she saw it. "Ooh, this is going to be so awesome," she trilled as she fished a fiver out of her purse. "Now, I'm going to go first but you guys have to promise that you'll go after me. It'll give us something to talk about on the way home."

I couldn't say no as she assaulted me with her well-practised 'kicked puppy' face.

"Fine," Sean and I grumbled in unison.

"Be back soon!" Rachel squealed before she dashed over to the caravan, up the tiny stepladder, and ducked inside.

Sean and I went to sit on a nearby bench while we waited. "I can't believe we let her talk us into wasting money like this," he groaned.

"I know what you mean," I sighed before fishing out the two five dollar bills that I had left in my pocket. I took one and crumpled it in my palm before shoving the other one away for safekeeping. "She's going to want you to go next, you know."

Sean rolled his eyes. "Don't tell me." Leaning back, Sean pulled out the contents of his pockets—all of it leftover change from the course of the day—and began to sift through it.

"Well it's a little late for that," I laughed as I watched, counting in my head as he sorted the coins. Seventy-five cents. A dollar. A dollar twenty-five… I knew at the same time that he did that he didn't have enough. Rachel wasn't going to be pleased.

"Shit," he cursed angrily before jamming the coins back into his pockets. "Rachel's going to kill me."

Saving Sean and I from the Wrath of Rachel wasn't really an acceptable use of my money, but I didn't want to deal with one of her tantrums. She would be upset for the rest of the night if Sean didn't go to have his fortune told. Fishing out my last five-dollar bill I held it out to Sean. "Here, take mine."

"But that's the last of your cash," he sighed, upset. If there was one thing Sean hated, it was borrowing. If there was one thing he hated more than that, it was borrowing money.

I shrugged, trying not to let him see how unhappy I was to be throwing away money. This was a waste of time and now ten whole dollars. "Don't worry about it. I really don't want Rachel to have a hissy fit."

Sean hesitated a second before he begrudgingly took the five-dollar note. He didn't want to listen to Rachel whine just as much as I didn't. "I'll pay you back tomorrow, I promise," he murmured.

"Don't worry about it," I repeated before I began to play with my five-dollar sacrifice. "I know where you live."

Rachel burst out of the Gypsy caravan a minute later. She looked so happy that she might explode.

"That was amazing!" She beamed, struggling to contain what the imposter had told her. "You next, Sean!"

Sean disappeared into the little wooden shack on wheels as quickly as his feet would carry him, eager to get the ordeal over with.

"Oh. My. God. Flic that was sooo amazing. I can hardly wait to tell you what she said to me! It's the best five dollars that I've ever spent," Rachel babbled away, bouncing with excitement again.

I listened to her talk until Sean came out five minutes later.

"She's so bogus," he hissed into my ear as I got up to trade places with him on the bench.

Wonderful. "See you in a few," I muttered, unable to keep a martyred expression from creeping onto my face.

Trudging, heavy-footed, over to the caravan cart, I dragged my feet up the stepladder and ducked through the tiny doorway.

The inside of the caravan was pitch black. If the Melany the Hoax's crystal ball hadn't been sitting (on a table I couldn't see) in the middle of the space, I wouldn't have known where to go. Walking forward, I stopped when I bumped into a small three-legged stool. I sat myself down and waited, alone in the dark, for the Witch to show up. Where she could have been hiding in the tiny space was the only thing that was mysterious to me.

So far, I was unimpressed. The crystal ball, which was glowing a faint purple-pink, was obviously fake: I could tell that it was lit from a light that poked up from underneath the table—which just happened to be covered with a long, heavy piece of velvet—and through its ornate stand. The space was kept dark, like any other 'fortune teller's' parlour, to try and add to the atmosphere. I just found it annoying.

Two minutes later I was still sitting there in front of the hokey crystal ball, alone.

"This is a waste of my freaking time," I growled. If she's not here in one more minute…

"Usually," an unfamiliar and airy voice sang from behind me, "I don't deal with such interesting people: your friends were pretty cut and dry."

I jumped, spinning around in my seat to look behind me. I couldn't see anything.

"You, on the other hand," the voice said from the other side of the table now, "are very interesting to See. I'm Melany, by the way."

Twirling around like a top in the other direction, I looked across the table at a slender woman with long black hair and a heart-shaped face. She was pretty, in an exotic way, and had full, bow-like lips. Through the glow of the crystal on the table, I could see that she had one brown eye and one blue eye. "What are you talking about?" I said, my heart beating quickly from the shock she had given me.

"I mean that you have a very interesting future," she laughed, the sound like a wind chime. "Would you like to hear it?"

"Do I have a choice?" I drawled, placing my precious five-dollar bill into Melany's waiting hand.

Melany smiled as she tucked my money away up one of her long, flowing sleeves. "It's a pleasure doing business with you, Felicia."

I was caught off guard for a split second when she used my name… And then I remembered Rachel and Sean had visited with her before me. "Let's get this over with," I said, crossing my arms tightly across my chest. Scepticism was rolling off of me in tangible waves.

"I can see that you're not a believer," Melany smiled, leaning closer to me. I didn't like the laughter in her eyes like she was privy to information that she wasn't going to share with me (even though I had paid her for it).

And what, praytell, gave you that impression? "Let's just say that I'm the 'I'll believe it when I see it' type," I said blandly.

"I love those types," Melany stage-whispered with a wink. "They're the most interesting."

I arched my eyebrow incredulously. "So you've said."

We stared at each other in silence for a moment. I was fighting not to roll my eyes as Melany gazed, unblinkingly, at me. Even though I knew she couldn't, something about the way her eyes glittered made me feel like she could see through me and into my soul.

Rubbing her hands together, Melany (finally) blinked and smiled at me. "Like I said," she whispered, her tone serious and light at the same time, "you have a very interesting future. After we finish our conversation here, you're going to start on an amazing adventure that is going to change the very fabric of your being."

Resisting the urge to laugh, I nodded slowly. "Oh really?" I implored, my tone mocking instead of politely uninterested as I had intended it to be. But, rather than being offended, Melany laughed at my acidic sarcasm.

"I know you don't believe me now but, please, hear me out."

"Go on," I said dryly.

Leaning closer to me, Melany became very serious. "You are going to be alone in a new place and strange time. But don't be afraid. You must remember that," she stressed, her voice heavy.

To say I was having difficulty staying seated was an understatement. This woman was clearly insane—certifiably crazy: travel was possible, but time travel? Yeah right. That being said, though, I did have to give it to Melany the Witch (with a capital 'w'): she was one heck of a storyteller. Against my will, the hairs on the back of my neck had stood up and goosebumps were popping up on my arms. "Is that all?" I drawled, my eyebrows arching cynically.

"Not quite," she whispered, her voice suddenly grave. "Felicia, eventually you will have to make two choices. One will change how you see yourself and the other will change how you see the world. But you won't be alone," she said after a pause, her voice now motherly. "You will meet a man who needs you more than anyone. The love you will grow to have for each other will help you both grow as people. And remember," she continued, silencing me with a finger when I opened my mouth to remind her that I didn't believe a single word that she was saying, "no matter how much you would like to come back to this moment—this time, you can't. Your life is starting over once you say 'goodbye' to me."

An eerie silence filled the room as Melany finished. Only when she leaned away from the small table between us did I realize that I had been leaning forward while she was speaking.

"You know I think you're crazy, right?" I asked, trying to fend off the strange feeling of worry that had crept into my gut.

Melany smiled sadly at me, her eyes glowing brightly in the light of her crystal ball. "I know it must sound that way and that's what really makes this hard for me. There's so much more I want to tell you…"

"But…?"

"But those aren't my secrets to share," she finished with a kind smile.

We sat in silence for a moment just looking at each other. Melany's face was a mask of loving concern while mine a mixture of disbelief and mounting confusion. I was suddenly afraid to get up and leave.

"What can I say to make you believe me?" Melany pleaded, clasping her hands under her chin.

I looked at her, analyzing her face. Normally I would have left at this point, five dollars poorer and an even bigger skeptic, so I surprised myself when I spoke. "Tell me something that only I would know," I murmured. I wasn't sure why I said that: I didn't care if she was telling me the truth or not. In a minute, I was going to leave and go home with my friends to watch movies and hang out. Nothing that she could say was going to change that.

"Alright," the Witch smiled, her eyes sparkling mischievously. She took another minute to stare deeply into my eyes. As she did, a fierce shiver ran up and down my spine. "Something that only you would know. Something that you've never told anyone, not even your friends," she said after an intense silence, her voice giving me a jolt.

"That's right," I said, determined to prove her a fake. Even though I knew she was most likely going to tell me something vague that could be interpreted a million different ways I found myself dreading what she was going to say.

Melany narrowed her eyes before she sat resolutely back in her chair. She continued to look at me for a moment longer and then a large smile exploded on her face. "Your father grew up to be a very interesting man—quite a lot like your grandfather," she began, her voice so tender and mild that I would have sworn she had known both men intimately. "I can see that your father loved you very much and misses you dearly. Souhaitez-vous l'esprit si je vous ai appelé 'mon petit lapin' au lieu de Felicia?" she spouted off in perfect French, her accent mirroring my father's down to the fond way he used to say my name.

I didn't know it, but my mouth had fallen open at some point. Melany waited, politely silent, for a few moments for my mind to connect back to my body. It took a lot of effort to find my jaw muscles and then clamp my lips back together, but I managed.

"Now do you believe me?" Melany's posture relaxed markedly as she spoke. She was leaning closer to me again, her face kind as if to tell me that she understood how confused I was.

"Only my mom would know that my dad used to call me his little bunny," I asked stupidly. "How did you—?"

"—That's something you shouldn't concern yourself with, Felicia," the Witch interrupted, though her voice was quiet and soothing. "You have more important things to worry about."

I could do nothing more than just stare, dumbfounded, across the table. "How did you know that?" I repeated, the question more to myself than Melany. My brain wasn't working properly. The room seemed to spin.

Melany's face fell as she looked at me, surveying my shocked face. She seemed to see something else there besides a brain-dead twenty-seven year old. "It's time to say goodbye, Felicia," she whispered faintly.

"Goodbye," I repeated dumbly. My lips weren't working properly anymore. And where was the smoke that was filling the room coming from? And why did I smell the ocean?

"Goodbye," Melany the Witch sighed, her voice full of love behind the sadness and longing in her tone.

And then I fell over from my seat, unconscious before I hit the floor.