A Psychic's Vision [Fiction]

Velma was not having a good day. She was broke and hungry.

Her circus group did not make much money the night before and she had debts to pay. Her tummy rumbled as she scratched her frizzy and unstyled red hair.

Just then a distinct "whooshing" sound announced the arrival of her raven, her co-worker in psychic readings. It swooped into the tent, its wings rustling as it dropped on the makeshift window sill.

"Found anything to eat?" Velma asked sardonically. The bird merely grunted and looked away from her.

Just then a man walked into Velma's tent, his eyes full of fear, doubt and uncertainty. He was casually dressed. A short beard and moustache framed his face, his auburn hair was unkempt as if he had been running his hands through it.

Velma smiled inwardly. Her meal ticket was here at last. She briefly pictured a fresh salsa with crispy tortilla chips and a bowl of ice cream. Her raven grunted in disdain.

Velma sat straight up in her chair, assuming a regal posture and palmed her hair. "Welcome, young man."

"Are you Miss Velma, the psychic?" The man asked.

"Yes, I am. Have a seat and show me your left palm," she said.

The man stretched out his left palm. "What do you see?" he asked, his voice shaking.

Velma hummed at the sight of the man's soft palm. "That will be sixty bucks." The man touched his breast pocket, brought some dollar bills and put them on the table. Velma smiled at him. Her mental picture was going to be a reality as soon as her raven foretells the future.

She nodded and called out to her raven. It left the window sill and perched on her shoulder, its black eyes staring intently at the man.

"What do you see, my dear?" The psychic asked. The raven cawed once, its black eyes becoming snowy and translucent. The man gasped and tried to withdraw his hand but Velma held it fast.

The raven spoke in an eerie human voice.

He seeks that which is not lost
On a journey, long and hard
He may find it
Not in the way he expects.
Heed this warning well
From a broken oath,
You lose what is found.

The man paled as the raven's words sunk in. "Is there nothing I can do to change it?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Velma shook her head and said the same thing she usually says to people who visit her tent, "The future is set, but you have the power to change your fate, if you are willing to fight for it."

The man nodded and left the tent.

"I wonder if you believe that gibberish you spew out to people every time," the croaky voice of the raven broke the silence in the tent.

Velma gasped. "How dare you? It seems I'll be the only one eating today."

"Have you tried to change your fate and search for your treasure that you think is lost?"

"Oh shut up! You and your riddles," Velma retorted and left the tent to buy some food. While she devoured her salsa and tortilla chips, she remembered the baby boy she gave up for adoption twenty-six years ago when she was a teenager. Circus life was a hard one, no child should be brought up in it.

She remembered the birthmark on his neck, slightly below his jaw. The man that visited her tent had the same mark but she shut down any emotion that might make her reach out to know him.

The wretched raven knew.

It was a gift from her mentor before the woman passed away twenty years ago. She and the raven had a hard time forming a relationship because it wanted to go with its previous owner to the afterlife. Then they reached an understanding —the raven would work with her for twenty years after which she would set it free.

Only one more day left.

How would she survive without the raven? No, she was not ready to let it go. But to break a promise to a supernatural creature was fatal.

Richard couldn't concentrate at work after his visit to the psychic. Ever since he found out he was adopted, he was determined to find his parents. One night, his friends at the bar suggested he visit a psychic to know if his parents wanted him back. Clearly, they were drunk and he dismissed the idea.

The idea nagged at him until he decided to see Velma. Hearing the raven's prediction, Richard wished he had not gone to see the psychic.

The following morning, he was making his usual hospital rounds when his pager indicated there was an emergency. He ran to the emergency ward. He was surprised to learn that there was a fire outbreak at the circus during rehearsals for their nightly shows. Several of them were burned.

The raven perched on the window sill of the hospital and watched.

Richard worked as fast as he could with other doctors. He tore off his dirty gloves, wore a set of clean ones and shoved aside the curtain around a bed.

He froze. Velma, the psychic, lay on the bed with her eyes closed. "Doctor," a nurse drew his attention. "Patient fell and broke her neck. I've administered…."

Richard was no longer listening. He drew close to Velma and touched her face. "Velma?"

Velma groaned and opened her bloodshot eyes. She smiled slightly at the sight of the young doctor, her son. "The raven...my raven," she stuttered in pain. "I-I am your mother. I gave you up for adoption when I was just a teenager. The circus life was not for you…I wanted something better…."

"Shhhh. Rest and let me look at you," Richard said in a professional voice. Inside him, there was chaos.

Despite his efforts, Velma passed away at exactly midnight. Her raven cawed and flew away.