The group of teens strolled down the street, chattering amongst themselves. They peered at displays in windows, observed street performers who were dancing and playing musical instruments, and remarked to each other about their intended purchases

“Hey, check this out,” Tiffani remarked, nodding toward a table that was several yards away. Seated at the table was an oddly-clad woman with a crystal ball.

“It’s a waste of money,” Angela muttered. “All these people do is give generalities and tell you what you want to hear. ‘You will meet a good-looking guy and marry him.’ That kind of thing.”

Although she hadn’t spoken loudly, the woman looked up at her and called out, “So, you’re a disbeliever?” She rose and approached the group.

Angela’s eyes widened with surprise, but quite calmly replied, “You’re right. I think you’re just out to make a few bucks.”

“We all need to eat, little one,” the woman replied with a shrug, “but I assure you, I am no phony.”

Angela scoffed and responded, “Spoken like a true phony.”

Wordlessly, the fortune teller took a firm hold of Angela’s hands. As if she’d been burned, the woman yanked her hands away, a horrified look on her face.

It was like poison, the woman thought, stunned, her eyes looking Angela up and down, trying to match what she’d seen in her mind to what was presented to her visually. Poison hidden within sweetness, like arsenic-covered powdered doughnuts. She uses her false face to hide what she is truly like, and she… what she intends to do…


“Don’t touch me again, you freak!” Angela snapped.

Throwing her shoulders back and rising to her full height, the woman shot back, “You are a terrible person. The things you plan to do… you may think you’re so smart now, but they’ll come back to haunt you in the end. You will lead to your own downfall.” The fortune teller spat on the group. “Pah! People like you make me sick, poisoning people emotionally and draining them for your own benefit. You’re a monster!”

“Calm down!” Emily cried out, pushing them away from each other. “Please, stop, you’re scaring me!”

“I…” the woman started, then halted her speech. The images that flooded her mind…

Some people’s true selves were harder to see than others, but this was the first time she’d dealt with something like this. The girl’s soul was like a garden, simply open to the elements, unprotected from hardship. Scattered about were toys and swings, as though it were a child’s playground. Though there were a few dark corners and a dead tree or two, the majority of the garden was blossoming, growing, untainted. The woman’s eyes widened in astonishment. What teenager is this, so have a soul like this? I would expect this in perhaps a young child, but by this age, there should be more darkness, more protection…

“I’m sorry about that,” the woman finally said, finding her voice again. “I tend to get rather excited at times. How about I give you all readings? For free, of course.”

Ophelia shrugged and spoke up. “I’m in.”


Gabrielle Gibson stretched out on the sofa. Her grandmother sighed impatiently and scolded, “Gabby, we may not be living in the nicest of houses, but that’s no reason to forget your manners. Don’t sprawl on the couch like that; it’s unladylike.” As Gabrielle obediently sat up, her grandmother chuckled and murmured, “Your grandfather would laugh if he heard me fussing you for being unladylike.”

“Hey, Gran, how come you don’t talk about my other grandparents?” Gabrielle asked. “I mean, besides telling me their names?”

Her grandmother smiled sadly and replied, “Because I didn’t know them very well, sweetheart. I only spoke to your other grandmother a few times before I was married and didn’t see her but once or twice after that, and as for your other grandfather…” Here, she chuckled a little. “Well, I can tell you who she was married to, but not who the father of your dad was. There’s a few likely possibilities.”

“So, you guys weren’t all that much different,” Gabrielle mused. “You weren’t married to Grandpa and got knocked up, and then your husband found out.”


“At the risk of sounding like a hypocrite, I had an excuse. I was unhappily married, being forced to pop out child after child. I barely cared about them, I’m sorry to say, because I didn’t really feel as if they were mine, but rather, just something I was permitted to have. And when your mother came along, well! She was the one thing that was truly mine and not something that my husband allowed me to have. I even gave her a name to differentiate her from my ‘children by obligation.’ But she-- your other grandmother-- she had no excuses. She was happily married to a good man who loved her as much as your grandfather loved me. And yet…” Gran sighed and shrugged. “She may have been older than I, but definitely not wiser.”

“Wait, back up,” Gabrielle spoke up. “You said you didn’t really care for your other children?”

“That’s right. The way I saw it, if I lost one, what did it really matter? In a year’s time, I would just have another, and so it would continued until I grew old. But your mother… she was the last remaining tie I had to my past, to what I knew by that time were better days that I had foolishly given up. I lavished enough love on her for ten children. She grew up knowing that she was very important to me, perhaps even the most important thing in my life. That’s why I encouraged her to have you, to prevent her from ending up like me.”

“Wait, what?”