Cassandra (standard:fantasy, 1600 words)
Author: GXD	Added: Oct 16 2008	Views/Reads: 3386/2127	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Not every clairvoyant has the insight of a Chinese fortune cookie. Cassandra, of course, is the exception.

CASSANDRA 

"One friend will contribute to your happiness," she told me, "and you
know who that is."  She humped her shoulders and looked deeply into the 
crystal ball. 

Marcia had promised me a legacy from an unknown relative.  The legacy
showed up, all right: fifty-five thousand shares of stock from a 
company that went broke a decade ago, and a tax bill resembling the 
Gross National Product.  How often she had told me, "your outlook for 
the future is optimistic.  Be persistent and you will win." 

"Look Harry, you are bound to have good luck during this year.  The
result of your plans will be satisfactory.  Your cares will lessen if 
they are faced cheerfully."  I listened with only half an ear.  The 
last time she predicted, "You will embark on a business venture" not a 
word was said about the sacrifice that might entail.  It took two 
fingers from my left hand, and a third of an ear.  I could already 
sense her next prediction: a dark-haired woman will come into your 
life.  Marcia was a frizzy blonde. 

"A dark-haired woman will come into your life," she said, "a vixen with
no scruples. Better keep your money out of her hands."  I wondered what 
money she was talking about.  The $13.37 I had in the bank, or the 
$7.50 burning a hole in my pocket.  So far, nobody had strung me up by 
my thumbs.  When the IRS left, we were still friends, of a sort.  Only 
they had my assets now.  Naturally I was concerned about the money that 
had to be kept out of this dark-haired woman's hands.  I began to get 
up. 

"Don't go right now," appealed Marcia, "I've got a lot more to tell you.
 Stay a while."  Maybe she didn't want me to meet that dark-haired 
woman.   Frizzy blondes can be jealous, too. 

Marcia turned back to the crystal ball and crowded so close it looked as
if she was trying to climb inside.  Was she looking for the vixen, or 
was it the money? 

"I found it!" she cried. 

"That's my money!  You predicted it," I shouted.  "You told me to follow
my destiny!" 

"I see the money inside a cabinet," she whispered, "only it's too dark
to make out if it's locked.  Don't make a noise.  Do you have a match?" 


I dug in three coat pockets before I found one. "Strike it!" she hissed
and took a deep breath.  When the match flared up, I peered through the 
crystal ball into a room with a file cabinet in the corner.  A scratchy 
wood desk, an old chair, wall calendars, dusty window blinds, that sort 
of thing.  A man was bent over one file drawer, but I couldn't see what 
was in it.  Just as he turned away, the match went out.  Was it all 
just an image?  Had she been projecting it? 

"The money is in the third drawer," she declared.  "You will have gold
pieces by the bushel." 

Migod, I thought, she really found it! . . . Only, where was the office
we saw?  In which building?  On which floor?  I only hoped it wasn't in 
some other city.  I caught her just before she hit the couch, 
exhausted.  The crystal ball rolled onto the carpet. 

Pats and kisses couldn't rouse her.  As usual, it took the smell of
brewing coffee wake her up.  I opened the curtains to shed a little 
light on the subject.  Her sitting-room was delightful -- ornate 
furniture, with curlicues embossed in the delicate frame of her 
love-seat.  Millions of coffee beans were buried in her clear-plastic 
coffee table.  A coffee-tree, red with berries, stood in one corner.  
Little porcelain dishes full of bright beads and crystals stood here 
and there.  In one corner lay a cloth doll without a head. 

Marcia and I had been kidding around with the occult since we were teen
agers.  In those days, some things were more fascinating than sex and 
drugs.  Witchcraft for example.  Crystal gazing, palm reading, magic, 


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