EDITOR:
MIRIAM BELLE
CREATIVE CONSULTANTS:
MIRIAM BELLE & SIMPLY_CYN
AUTHOR'S NOTE:
"I'm reposting 'The Gift' here before I post the new version of it this fall. I suppose I'd for the original version to be here for people to compare and contrast with the new one. Some sections of the story were lost and I had to rewrite them from memory, so if it's a little different... well, then it's a little different. The narrative is very raw. This story was a total learning experience if ever I had one. I wrote this story just after I joined the site back 2004. Enjoy!"
*
SUNDAY
"Why are we doing this again?" Daniel asked, his sunglasses reflecting the bright morning sunlight as he and his best friend Jessie cruised the coastal highway in.
"For fun, man," Jesse smiled and reclined back, feeling good as he maneuvered the rolling curves of the blacktop. His white 1987 Firebird roared along, it's throaty engine echoing off the hillside.
"It's all bullshit you know," he replied.
"So what?"
"So, why pay for bullshit?"
Jesse frowned. "Didn't you ever see 'Mallrats'?"
"Yeah, so?"
"Okay, the psychic in that movie did her readings topless. Maybe this one will too."
"She had a three fucking nipples," Daniel laughed, "You know what the odds are of finding a topless psychic?"
"Pretty thin," Jesse nodded, "But imagine if we did."
"Shit," Daniel rolled his blue eyes, "She'll probably look like Irene Ryan with titties bouncing off her shins."
"There's an image," Jesse commented as they pulled off the highway and entered the small town of Derridge. The place was a good example of upper-middle class America, and according to the informational sign at the base of the off ramp, the population was just over one thousand. It was a tourism-based economy for sure as they cruised down Main Street, surrounded by souvenir shops, bait shops, cafΓ©'s and one small theater. The salty air was thick here, a reminder that the ocean breached the mainland only a half mile away. The citizens of the town went about their business, cheerful and almost oblivious to the two newcomers.
"Not one single Negro" Jesse muttered, "Nothing but vanilla."
"What do you expect?" Daniel asked. "Not everyone has a year-round tan like you. You think they're racists?"
Jesse's deep, dark eyes gleamed with amusement. "No. It just means all the black folk are too smart to live this close to the water."
"Bite me," Daniel said as he watched the storefronts pass by.
"There it is," he said, pointing to a small brick building nestled between the theater and a bookstore called "The Book Worm." The bold pink neon of the sign mounted to the building told the universe that "Madame Helena's World of the Supernatural" was open for business. It took them five minutes to find a decent spot to park, and they ended up walking from the far end of the street back to their destination. As they crossed the street, Jesse became aware of people looking at them.
He was dressed in his usual work boots, loose fitting jeans and red t-shirt. He always wore red, as it just seemed to compliment his mocha colored skin better than any other color. Daniel was in his khakis and sweatshirt, the anger tiger mascot of their high school tearing across the chest and leaping out. They didn't look too out of the ordinary in his opinion, and yet it seemed everyone was taking notice. Being strangers to them and all, he guessed he couldn't blame them. Or maybe it was just they didn't get much color in their town on a regular basis. Either way, their not-so-subtle appraisal of them made him feel uneasy.
"You get the feeling we're being watched?" he asked Daniel.
"They just can't figure out what a smart black man like you is doing so close to the water," he smirked.
"Smart ass."
They reached the glass door and Jesse opened it, the jingle of a bell heralding their entrance.
Upon stepping inside Madame Helena's World of the Supernatural, they were bombarded by a wave of Egyptian incense. It invaded their nostrils relentlessly and made Daniel feel lightheaded as they walked in. Jessie waved his hands around and coughed as they looked through the smoky atmosphere of the shop. The walls were cluttered with all kinds of psychic paraphernalia and trinkets, from assorted sizes of crystal ball to healing crystals to voodoo dolls and finally to dream catchers, hanging by the hundred from the acoustic tiled ceiling. Blue and red lighting set the mood for the establishment, turning Jessie's dark skin purple as they looked around.
"Holy shit," he coughed.
"I know," Daniel chuckled as he picked up a voodoo doll from one of the many display tables. He pulled and tugged at the small, burlap arms.
"Check this out," Jesse leaned in over the display counter, his shaved head reflecting blue light. A statue of a naked woman sporting the biggest pair of breasts he had ever seen hugging some dragon-like monster sat prominently on display. He commented, "She had nice titties, but the whole bestiality thing is too much."
Daniel looked at the statue. "Wow, she must have back problems."
"It's got theme, I'll give it that," Jesse said as he looked around the shop.
"So where's your topless, three-nippled psychic?" Daniel muttered.
"I don't do readings topless," a withered voice from the far corner of the shop spoke up, old and frail yet with a power that made them both jump, "And as to a third nipple, well, that's none of your business really."
From out of her hiding place came an ancient, hunched over woman. Her hair was snow white, hanging in long strands from her skull to the middle of her back. The lines of her face were cut deep while her eyes seemed to regard them with a mild curiosity from their cavernous sockets. Her lips were wrinkled and dry, behind which sat uneven and discolored teeth. Her clothes were simple, neutral colors and seemed to be better suited for life in the Middle Ages. Jesse recalled a dream he had suffered all his childhood, about a witch chasing him on a broomstick, trying to eat him.
It was as if his nightmare had found substance and crossed over into the real world. He forced a smile on his face.
"Madame Helena, I presume?" Daniel offered his hand amiably.
"Presume nothing here," she raised an overgrown brow and looked at him coolly, "Although you already assume too much about that which you know nothing."
"Ma'am?" Jesse asked.
"Presumption and assumption go hand in hand, young one," she smiled at him, concentrating for a moment on him as though she saw something that surprised her. She added, "You're a smart one."
"We were wondering if you could-" Jesse began, but was cut off.