Illusion

Becky Owens sat on her bench, throwing bread crumbs to the doves and ravens that flew around her feet. The fall chill hadn’t quite hit the air yet. Secretly, she was hoping for what they called an ‘Indian summer’; it was one of those weather phenomena that made the fall months an extension of summer. She watched as a few of the men setting up tents and street booths for the carnival wiped their brows. More than a few of them pulled off their shirts, wearing only black or white wife beaters. She smiled as they waved at her.

“It’s always good to see you boys!” Becky called. “When are you bringing my prince home?”

They laughed, the youngest of the men looked at her with questioning chocolate eyes. No one told him her story, but they would soon enough. Becky didn’t bother being embarrassed about waiting on a man that no one believed existed. She knew. Her prince would return, and they would be happy. If he didn’t, she would die waiting.

She finished her bag of crumbs off before she threw the brown paper in the trash next to her bench. She walked over to the booths that were already up and running. The fortune teller Madam Forte invited her to sit down for a reading.

“I see you every year, yet I never get a chance to really talk to you,” Madam Forte spoke with a drawl. Her voice was softer, less forced, than it usually was with her clients. She always tried to rest her ‘show’ voice for as long as she could.

“I know my future,” Becky said with a smile, “but I’d be honored to sit with you for a moment.”

“Do you?” The woman’s gypsy chains jingled as she repositioned herself in her chair. “How can you be so sure?”

“A promise like that means the world,” Becky retorted with a raised brow. She almost dared the fortune teller to try to tell her she was wrong.

“He will come,” Forte said. “You won’t survive his arrival, but he will come.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Becky questioned. How could she not survive her prince’s arrival? If he comes for her she’ll gladly survive off whatever is available. She could finally forget about being…

“You will die, Rebecca, just like your sister, but you will not die alone.” The look on her face was stern. This time, Madam Forte challenged Becky’s objections.

“I don’t think you know what you’re talking about, Forte. If you did you certainly wouldn’t be traveling with this carnival.” Becky rolled her eyes.

Madam Forte laughed as she nodded in agreement. “I may not know what I’m talking about, but you don’t know what you’re really waiting on, Becky Owens.”

“Stop speaking in circles!” Becky growled. She usually didn’t get upset, never really got too angry, but this fortune teller was making her lose her mind. She couldn’t take much more of her lies.

Forte opened her mouth to defend her predictions but thought better of it. She shook her head before she regained the smile that faltered under Becky’s anger. “I am sorry, Ms. Owens. Offence is not something I meant to give.”

“And another thing, my sister is not dead. She just left.” Becky stated before she realized the gypsy woman wasn’t fighting.

“That’s just an opinion,” Forte explained. “I should have kept it to myself.”

Part of the big tent rose in the background of the fortune teller’s booth. She didn’t seem to noticed as the red and white stripes hypnotized Becky. The local bird lady sat before the gypsy woman in a daze, taking slow deep breaths.

“I have to go,” Becky whispered. She coughed then repeated herself in a stronger voice.

“Are you alright,” Forte asked.

Becky Owens shook her head as she rushed to her feet. The sudden movements made her head spin in circles. She grabbed the edge of the table, trying to force her body into a more stable state, but it didn’t work.

“Becky!” Forte screamed as the woman on the other side of her table began to tumble over.

~~~

He hid in the shadows that the afternoon cast off the tents the workers slowly pulled into place. His mask wasn’t in place yet. Breathing was difficult behind those soulless eyes, and it was much easier to see without the stupid plastic anyways. The sight before him sent chills down his spine.

He watched the woman, who he kept an eye on from her childhood, collapse in front of the street booth. She was having a simple panic attack, although no one else seemed to know that or her history with them.

“Elsie!” The little blonde girl cried. Her breathing grew rapid as tears filled her eyes. She crumbled to her knees as she screamed the name over and over again. He watched from his little spot just inside the wooded area of the park. Her breathing grew slower until her eyelids began to blink as if they couldn’t hold themselves open any longer.

As the first sob left her lips he went to her. He lifted her off the ground, brushed her off, and asked if she was lost. He made sure she looked everywhere, but she still couldn’t hear her sister’s screams. Elsie was gone, and this girl, Rebecca, would soon be his too.

He smiled to himself as the police officer checked Becky Owens’ pulse. They would find that she was alright, and he would come for her soon enough. Just as he promised.