There were still too many unanswered questions in her life. Maybe that’s what caused her to stop.
The lone sign in the windows of dark purple curtains, simply read “Psychic”. She was sure she’d been down this way before, but she never took notice of it.
According to her watch, it was only 9:27pm.
Could she get her life’s answers here? Not for the first time today, she went against her better judgement and tried the door.
Oddly, the first thing which got her attention upon entering the single darkened room was the abnormal clock on the left hand wall. It seemed blurred at the edges, almost smoky.
Now truly focused on it, she noticed the date displayed was correct, the time however, was too fast. It indicated 9:57pm.
She felt deep down as if the unusually loud ticks were matching her quickened heart rate. Maybe that’s why it was too fast she thought to herself.
The soft rattling of beads and jewelry tore her back to reality. The veiled woman was seated at a small round table with her back to the right wall. Her heavily tattooed and ringed right hand gesturing to the chair across from her.
And so the reading began. Questions of the dead and life itself were asked and vaguely answered. After some time, the veiled woman fell silent once more.
“As payment, let me ask you now something in return” she croaked. If possible, the face under the veil had gotten even darker. As if the light of the candles couldn’t penetrate it anymore.
“Would you rather I tell you how or when you will die?“. The ticking of the clock now seemed impossibly loud in the silence.
Surely everyone’s thought about it. But faced with the idea of knowing either, would you still want to know?
If it were to be painful, would you try and cheat destiny and end it another way on your own terms? If it were to be soon, would you make the most of the remaining time, or only dread it’s unavoidable approach?
Seemingly without thinking, in a low voice she answered “when”.
The veiled woman raised her left arm and pointed to the clock across the room.
Every emotion and instinct fought her not to do it, for she knew what awaited, and yet she turned. It’s edges were solid now, the date correct, it’s ticks still in rhythm with her. Not having to look at her watch, she knew the time would be right as well. 9:57pm.
She hadn’t heard the knife being drawn, only it’s cold steel now biting at her neck.
The clock ceased ticking.