Ex. 1 ( Fortune Teller )

“Oh why not.” I thought. My outstretched arm drew back a deep purple colored curtain and as I stepped forward I was suddenly plunged into a blacker black than the night that had surrounded me. As my eyes slowly adjusted to the dim light, I took in my surroundings. Old candles with wax dripping down table legs were scattered about the tent. Every surface was covered with intricate cloth, all dyed in passionate colors like red, blue and purple. Almost everything sparkled and shimmered in the flickering light, along with the fluorescent stars and moons that covered the tent’s ceiling. A thick fog-like musk hung heavily in the air, as a result to the harsh smelling incense smoking around the room, and in the far left corner sat a woman, half hidden in the shadows.
She had a long flowing blue skirt that was cinched on the side. It had intricate patterns made with beads that swirled in spirals and then took sharp turns all the way to the floor. The rest of her body was enveloped in a large black moth-eaten shawl with small pieces of tin on the sides that jangled softly every time she drew breath. Out of all this feast for the eyes, what caught me most was her face. Her skin was wise and weathered, what seemed like centuries of sorrow resided in her gnarled skin, and her eyes were an extremely pale watery blue that gave the appearance of her having no pupils at all. Her hair was mostly grey and frazzled but whispers of a soft brown color still remained in some spots, and her nose and chin jutted out of her face sharply, although there was still something beautiful about her.
She held out her arm to me and the gold bangles on her wrist hung loosely from her as if she were only a skeleton. Her long bony fingers curled, beckoning me closer.
“Come here child.” She purred in a raspy voice “what’s troubling you?”
I hesitated for a moment but not wanting to be rude and turn my back to the lady, I slowly walked over to the old wicker chair and sunk into it. It creaked softly fighting against my weight. The old lady repeated her question.
“Nothing” I answered quietly.
“ Yes” she said peering at me questioningly. “There is something deep in your mind, a scar on your heart. Your face tells me nothing but your soul speaks louder than I do child.” she said knowingly now. Her hands reached out to me and I flinched when they grasped mine in a startlingly firm grip. She flipped my hands over palm side up and ignoring the dried blood on them, gracefully felt over the creases in my skin. Her fingers glided over mine swiftly like ghosts. Her skin was cold and frail feeling. My heart began to beat faster.
“Yes, your lifeline is short. Your mind is not healthy.” she said.
“Oh how do you know? You don’t have a clue about me.” I said suddenly getting defensive. I quickly rose and pulled my hands away from being entwined with hers. “Coming here was a bad idea.” I thought aloud.
“Oh but I do.” The old lady chuckled, her voice crackling like fire.
“You do what?” I shot back
“ I know about you and I know what you have gone through tonight. It’s there in your eyes child! Your not good at hiding your feelings.”
I felt stung, like I had just been insulted. Or slapped. “You know nothing about me.” I stammered. I turned around and headed for the exit.
She called softly to me. “Only you can write your destiny, not I nor anyone else can. You decide what you become.”
I stopped with my back turned to her, my eyes closed. She had hit me, what she had said was not just the crazy rambling of an insane old woman, it meant something.
“Remember that child.” she warned.
I reached for the curtains and left.