364. The fortune teller
© Bruce Goodman 9 October 2014
Keith was at the fair ground.
GET YOUR FORTUNE TOLD!
What fun! thought Keith. I shall try.
He paid the money. A woman with a long head scarf and dangling ear rings sat at a table before a crystal ball.
“Hello,” she said. “Take a seat.”
“Hello,” said Keith. “I’ve come to have my fortune told.”
The woman gazed into the ball.
“Dimja aqua alu metra,” she said, floating the palm of her hand over the ball. “Kleva don harif dante. You are to have a fabulous future. Wealth and wonderful health and prosperity are just around the corner.”
Keith snorted loudly. He could see she was reading it off a chart on the wall. The writing was refracted on an angle by the globe. “You will soon meet someone in your life who will play a major part in your happiness.”
“How exciting!” said Keith trying to stifle a guffaw.
“I want you,” said the woman, “on the next full moon, to go outside and dance naked while reciting this chant. It will bring you luck.”
She handed Keith a print-out of a chant in a foreign language.
“It will bring you luck. It will bring you luck.” It was like a mantra.
Keith left. The visit had been worth every cent! When he’d had a few drinks, the retelling was Keith’s party piece.
“Dimja aqua alu metra. It will bring you luck,” chanted Keith, waving his hand aimlessly in the air. Except, usually there wasn’t a full moon and he kept his clothes on.