Author's note: alrighty, another chapter. This gets done in between all my uni work, so bear with me if updates are a little sparse. Basically, I hope you're all enjoying it, even if there's not much of a plot going on.
In my head, you are a wonderful person, open hearted, kind, compassionate. In my head, you are many things; an artist, a writer, a businessman, or woman, a teacher, a retail worker, an aged carer, a parent, a sibling, a friend. You are important to someone and someone is important to you.
You have a history, interwoven with the lives of everyone you have ever known. You have a future, whether it is one you have planned out before you, or not. You have a place in the world, carved out by your own hand, cut precisely so that you fit in it perfectly; you and nobody else.
I wonder about you though. I hope you are everything I have hoped that you would be and that I have not written all of this story out merely so that you may look at it and laugh with malice. There are many things at which you may laugh, and I shall continue to provide you with more.
For example, I have another childhood story. My family and I went to a carnival when I was 9 years old. It was one of the most exciting things of my life; there were lights, there were rides, there was noise, and people and a million different directions to run in. There was the smell of food, wafting over the head of the crowd, filling your nostrils and making your stomach grumble and your mouth water. Lights and the moon glinted off the surface of water, for the carnival was being held next to a river, and in all, the night, clear and warm, was perfect and indeed, beautiful.
Neither Frannie nor I held the hands of my parents; we felt too old for such foolishness, even though both mother and father begged us to take their hands. We were big girls; I was 9 and Frannie was 11, and both of us felt childish holding our parents' hands. Besides, there were younger kids in hordes, running free without being held to the side of their parents. It may have been our first time at a carnival, but excitement overrode any fear we might have had. The only time we touched our parents was to tug them in a particular direction.
And tug them in many a direction we did. We took them on the giant slide, onto the dodge 'em cars, and coerced them into buying us our first corndogs, which, incidentally, made both Frannie and I sick later in the night. There were so many things to see, booths which you had to shoot ducks, or knock over cans, or push a ball into a grinning clown's mouth, all to win a range of prizes. We did them all that night. We didn't walk away with much, but that didn't matter to us; the fun was in the game, not the prize.
But then we arrived at a final booth, right at the end of the corridor of stalls and stands, in the darkest corner of the carnival. There, the lights did not reach and most of the booth was sheathed in shadow; it radiated eeriness. "Madame Scarlet's Fortunes: come and get your cards read," said the small sign which hung haphazardly at the front of the stall. The gothic script was hardly the most attractive thing, but neither Frannie nor I were even half worried about that, we were far too entranced by the woman sitting within the small tent. She had her legs crossed and her eyes were closed, a deck of tarot cards and a crystal ball in front of her.
"Come in, come in ladies. Come sit with me. I shall tell you anything you wish to know about your future," the woman said in a soft voice, her eyes still closed. Our parents were at the next stall over, talking to the man behind the low counter, so Frannie and I, perplexed and curious about this woman so strangely sitting on the floor, went in and sat down. The woman opened her eyes and smiled, teeth so white in the darkness, and the creases around her eyes deeper than any I have seen since.
"I am Madame Scarlet," she said, reaching out and taking one of mine and one of Frannie's hands in each of hers. Gently, she tugged and we took this as a sign to be seated. So we sat opposite her on a small rug and waited. We all breathed in the smoking incense, but no one spoke a word; it was so quiet, in fact, that we could hear daddy's voice next door, talking to the man about parrots. Daddy always did like birds. I could hear Frannie breathing, quick inhalations and shaky exhalations. I nudged her with my elbow. I still remember everything so clearly from that night; it's strange how some memories stay so clear, even after years have passed.
"So," Madame Scarlet began, breaking the silence, "you wish to have me tell you your futures?"
Unsure what to say, Frannie and I nodded, glancing at the other to make sure that we were going to be doing this together. I was terrified of being without our parents, but Frannie's presence calmed me, even if she was slightly panicked.
"Hmm," she said, squinting and waving her hands, which by now had let go of ours, in front of her, over the form of Frannie, "dark yellow, orange, pale pink. You, my dear, are loving and sensitive, outgoing, but prone to stress. You try to learn everything at once, as though you are afraid of tomorrow. That is what your aura tells me."
My sister and I exchanged looks. Frannie was certainly stressed frequently, and outgoing definitely described her personality. I raised my eyebrow. That was interesting. I remember being amazed at her description of Frannie, but also terrified of what she may say about me, for her eyes were now trained on my small form, squinted so much they looked almost shut. A frown furrowed the woman's brow.
"Fascinating," she said. "An aura of lavender, lots of dark blue, a hint of emerald, bright yellow, and two reds. Fascinating indeed. A daydreamer with a loving, passionate nature who will do anything to survive. But who is also terrified of the future. You make an interesting combination, my dear. Also, your aura overflows with colour. You are a complicated little being, more so than most. How old might you be?"
"I'm 9," I said, not sure exactly what she meant by all that she was saying. I understood some of it, but most flew over my head. However, the words stayed with me, and I can say that I understand them now. I can also say that she was right, in all aspects. I'm sure that you would agree with Madame Scarlet, from what you have learned of me so far.
The woman in question had now begun to play with her tarot cards. She shuffled them, paused, then shuffled them again, the cards flitting in and out of the deck in her old hands. She hummed something to herself, a mysterious melody which sent shivers down my spine; I felt as though I was listening to a tune from ages long forgotten, when people worshipped winds and forests, mountains and lakes, fire and wildlife. As the song seemed to reach a crescendo, she stopped, putting the tarot cards in a newly shuffled pile directly before her.
The silence stretched between the three of us, seated cross legged in that tiny tent reeking of incense. I could hear Frannie's watch ticking away the time, seconds of our lives, vanishing, never able to be retrieved. And then Madame Scarlet took up the card at the top of the deck, turning it over and putting it to her left.
"The Moon. A cyclical change from the wild to the domesticated and back again. The feminine. Powerful dreams. Those are the important elements of your past, my dear," she said, looking at me as though she was trying to discover who I was. I had no idea what that meant at the time; to me, she was talking nonsense - intriguing and mystical nonsense, but nonsense nonetheless. But thinking back, it made a lot of sense. The feminine referred to my grandmother who was a powerful influence on my young life, the dreams referred to the ones I had after she died, ones I do not quite recall in detail, but I shall never forget the feelings of terror and loneliness of. The cyclical element is more mysterious to me. I believe it has something to do with mood swings I used to have, and in truth, have not entirely grown out of. Those things determined who I became as I grew older.
"Page of Pentacles," that was the second card and the one pertaining to my present. "Appearance of prosperity, one who delights in material things, nature and the body. Perseverance. Trust. A studious nature. Achievement," that is what Madame Scarlet next said, soft voice drifting through the tent. Another truth. When I was 9 years old, I was hardworking, especially in school, and my results were a reflection of that study. I was the top student of the class when I was 9, an achievement I shall forever be proud of. Also, being a child, I was still very hands on, and I loved being outdoors getting dirty in the mud or in the park. Often I would come home with grass stains on my clothes, much to the consternation of my mother who had to clean them.
"The final card. The future," Madame Scarlet said, turning over the third card and placing it on the far right of her body - our left. Frannie and I craned our necks to see it; if any card was going to intrigue us, it was this one, the one fortelling my future. "Ace of Wands. A new venture. An opportunity which should be greeted with enthusiasm. A burst of creativity. Take advantage of these things when they appear to you, my dear. They will lead you on a great path."
In all honesty, reader, I was disappointed by these last words. I wanted more certainty; yes, even then I craved it. Her words were simply too vague to make me happy. I understood that what she was saying was good, that I would have a good future, but only if I heeded the signs and took advantage of them. I couldn't understand how I could take advantage of them if I hadn't the slightest clue of what they were. Since then, I've adopted the mantra "whatever will be, will be," and it has thus far served me well. I trust in God to lead me on the right path.
Frannie and I had looked at each other that night in the tent, as though we were sharing important secrets with one another. I could see in her eyes that she was desperate to have her cards read too. Madame Scarlet had not yet picked up the cards off the floor to begin her second reading, and instead was regarding us from the other side of the rug as the two of us looked at her, shivered and then looked again at each other. Unfortunately, Frannie was not to get her cards read. Our parents, frantic that they'd lost sight of us for a moment found us with Madame Scarlet and bursting in, dragged us from the tent, yelling, the adrenaline not yet faded from their blood. They kept harping on about the "demonic arts" and how we should have known better than to have gone into a booth like that, that people like that woman, Madame Scarlet, were sinning against God. Frannie and I had both just rolled our eyes. Parents could be such killjoys.
That night stayed with me. I believed the words for a long time afterwards, but have since disregarded them. I've grown cynical in such matters; many a time predictions are so vaguely worded that they could apply to anyone, and any situation. I believe this is the case the majority of the time. Perhaps Madame Scarlet was genuinely able to read my cards and able to see my aura, but I was 9 years old - I cannot be sure. Should I meet her now, I perhaps would have a better idea, but I highly doubt that she and I shall ever cross paths again. However, the memory still lingers and here I have recorded it, so that it may live on, even when my mind has deteriorated.
I do not know what your stance is on things like this, dear friend, but I am on the fence. I cannot say that I do believe because it has never been proven to work for me, but neither an I say that I disbelieve, for the same reason. As I said, I was 9 years old, hardly old enough to make fair judgements on such things. At the time I would have advocated that yes Madame Scarlet was right and that everything she said is correct, but that would have been the naivety of a child speaking; we always believe the best in people when we are young, don't we?
Do I believe that clairvoyants sin against God? No, in truth, I do not. Perhaps they try to discover things that are better left unknown, and in fact, how can anyone truly tell the future? So many pathways are available, who is to say that you are going to take a particular one? But no, I do not believe it is a sin against Christianity. My parents staunchly believe that they do, but as we have already established, I do not share many of my parents' views. Frannie on the other hand, stands behind our parents wholeheartedly. I remember the one time I tried to discuss the night with her, a few days afterwards, she refused to talk about it. I pushed her to and she snapped at me, changing from bored and disinterested to furious in a matter of seconds.
"You heard mom and dad, they're dark arts. Believing Madame Scarlet will send you straight to hell, you know that. Geez, Quinn, why are we even talking about this?"
That was the long and short of our conversation. I wasn't allowed a chance to settle my mind. But as goes the mind of a child, it was soon forgotten, pushed aside by other days and worries and dreams. Well, I lie when I say forgotten, it was more like it was pushed aside for the moment. It rises to memory every so often, but I do not dwell on it. I suppose I have brought it up this time because I've reached a point in my life where the future looms and decisions must be made. Remembering something which I genuinely thought was predicting my future only seems natural. It hasn't helped inform my decision, or clarify the murky water into which I will be diving after this coming year, but it reminds me that whatever may happen, life will carry on.
That seems to be a mantra of many people, most notably, the poet Robert Frost, whose most famous quote is:
In three words I can sum up everything
I've learned about life: it goes on.
Whatever may happen, no matter how terrible it may be, the sun does not stop shining, the world does not stop turning and the ocean does not stop caressing the shore. That is an appropriate attitude to take with life; one must realise that the world doesn't revolve around you and that sometimes the hardest, bravest and most courageous thing you could possibly do is pick yourself up off the floor and persevere. No body else can do that for you. That's something I have learnt in my 17 years on Earth.
When everybody, including your own family turns against you, you must do what you can to survive. Only the strong will get off their knees and hold their head high, despite everything that people might think and say about you. I had to keep going for the sake of myself. It was during that time that I also discovered who were the people who truly cared about me. Surprisingly, they weren't the ones I thought they were going to be; those Cheerios who so often claimed that they "had my back" turned and scattered at the first sign of me losing my status as head Cheerio. It was the Glee kids who came through for me when I needed them the most. Those same people that I made fun of, ridiculed and tortured were the same ones who offered me support and somewhere to live. I can't begin to explain to you how much that hurt, knowing that I was so cruel to them, but they were more than willing to forgive me when I was in trouble.
What can I say, dear reader? Your lowest moments are the ones in which you find out who loves you. I wouldn't be here without those friends.
A/N: I don't actually know anything about tarot cards or auras, so if I'm totally wrong with what I've said, please forgive me.