Silence stretched between us for the rest of the drive, an unspoken agreement hanging in the air. Jack gripped the wheel, squinting through the shattered glass. I kept glancing nervously out the cracked window, half expecting the blur of black to materialize from the trees, to emerge from the storm and finish what it had started. But it never returned. As we drew closer to the city lights, the traffic thickened, the buzz of other cars a comforting counterpoint to the silence in our own. I watched as Jack’s knuckles slowly unclenched, the white fading from his skin as the tension drained away. We were both relieved to be surrounded by the hum of civilization once more.
People.
I saw a person. I was certain of it. It was dark and stormy, yes, the rain lashing against the windshield, blurring any remaining light. But when I looked back, I had seen him. A tall, phantom figure who seemed to vanish into the swirling gray of the storm.
My skin crawled, the memory still vivid. What human possessed the strength to stop a speeding car, to hurl it against the guardrail like a toy? It was impossible.
“We’re here.”
Jack’s voice snapped me back. I wiped the condensation from the window with my sleeve, finally taking in the campus I had chosen for the next four years.
As we arrived, the sun emerged, chasing away the last remnants of the storm. The University of Vermont stretched before us, breathtaking in its beauty. Lush green lawns dotted with vibrant flowers shimmered in the sunlight. Buildings adorned with “Welcome to Catamount Country!” banners bustled with activity, a vibrant mix of excited students and anxious parents.
“Wow, this campus is huge!” I said, looking around. “It’s really… nice.”
Jack returned my smile, his eyes twinkling with amusement, and continued driving. He navigated us through campus, past the dorms, and down the hill.
“Where are you taking me?” I asked, curiosity piquing my interest. “Shouldn’t we be finding someone to fix your car? Reporting what happened?” I mean, the damage wasn’t exactly subtle, judging by the looks we were getting.
He grimaced. “It’ll wait. Five more minutes isn’t going to change what happened.”
Still reeling from the accident, I wasn’t sure what to expect, but I leaned back and let Jack lead the way. He drove down the hill and came to a stop in front of a bustling crowd.
“What are we doing here?” I asked, eager to join the swarm of people, my hand unconsciously tugging on my seatbelt.
His eyes crinkled at the corners with a gleam, and he leaned in close, pointing past me. “Just look.”
This wasn’t your average college town street. It was a vibrant red brick street teeming with life. Shops and restaurants lined the sidewalks, and the air was alive with the sounds of laughter, music, and lively conversation. Families strolled hand-in-hand, runners jogged past, and dog walkers chatted amongst themselves with their furry companions in tow – it was a scene of pure energy and joy. Even street performers entertained the crowds, adding to the lively atmosphere. At the very top of the street, a white church stood proudly, drawing tourists who vied for the perfect photo opportunity. I was so captivated by the vibrant scene unfolding before me that I almost didn’t notice something was missing.
“Where are all the cars?” I practically yelled in Jack’s ear.
He pushed away from me and stuck a finger in his ear, giving me a mock-serious look. Apparently, my enthusiasm had been a bit too much for him.
“See that?” he said, grinning. “That’s Church Street. You gotta walk it to really get it. Let’s go.” He held out his hand to help me scramble over the center console.
I nodded eagerly and grabbed his hand. The avenue was a symphony of sights and sounds – bustling crowds, the aroma of delicious food wafting in the air, and the lively chatter of people enjoying the day. As Jack and I strolled down the red brick path, he bought me an ice cream cone from a Ben and Jerry’s stand, and we window-shopped, immersing ourselves in the vibrant atmosphere of all that Burlington had to offer.
We passed by a variety of vendors – some selling food, others displaying intricate jewelry, and a few offering locally grown produce. One young man stopped us, handing out flyers with a friendly smile. When I lifted my hand to wave back, he playfully caught hold of it and slipped a flyer into my palm.
“I know, I know, another flyer,” he said, winking. “But trust me, this one’s worth it.”
I glanced down at the flyer – an ad for the Champlain Valley Fair. Before I could really make sense of it, Jack’s arm slid around my shoulders, gently steering me away.
“Ugh, the fair’s coming up,” he groaned, more to me than anyone else. “End of August, every year. Just before school. Music, rides, all that. And I’m stuck working. Total bummer.”
Jack worked as a medical scribe at the university hospital. Over these last few years, whenever I’d call him, he’d be up at odd hours of the night, either just starting a shift or just getting off a shift. Either way, the fair sounded like fun. It would’ve been nice if I had someone to go with.
A flicker of movement in my periphery caught my eye. I stuffed the flyer into my back pocket and grabbed Jack’s hand, nearly sending his ice cream cone tumbling.
“Come on,” I tugged him toward a small stall tucked in a corner of the street.
“You’ve got to be kidding me… ” Jack moaned as he read the sign above the stand.
“I’m serious! I’ve never done it. Why not now?”
“Fine, fine. Go for it. I’ll be over here with my ice cream,” Jack said, waving me off with a playful roll of his eyes.
I walked up to the stand and placed five dollars in Auntie Gina’s fortune-telling jar. An old woman with matted gray hair and thick, circular glasses peered at me over the rim of her glasses, her gaze sharp and appraising. It was almost as if she were sizing up her competition.
“Hello,” I said tentatively.
She grumbled some incoherent words, and for a moment, I wondered if this psychic reading was all just a scam.
Of course it’s a scam… you can’t actually predict someone’s future…
Jack’s “I told you so” already echoed in my head as I turned to leave. Then, a grip. Her hand, surprisingly strong, clamped around my right wrist.
My palm faced up, exposed. Her eyes, narrowed and intense, traced the lines of my hand. Her fingertips, cold and insistent, followed every crease, every curve. It felt like hours, an eternity of scrutiny. Then, a pressure. Her fingers dug into my palm, and a low, almost inaudible hum vibrated from her lips. A language I didn’t understand, a sound that crawled under my skin.
The humming stopped as abruptly as it began. Her hand lifted, but her eyes held mine, unwavering. Her finger, hovering just above my skin, sent a shiver down my spine, a cold trail of dread.
“Power,” she said, her voice a shocking sound like thunder rumbling. “Romance. Adventure…” she trailed off, a shadow of fear clouding her eyes.
“And…?” I prompted, my voice barely a whisper.
The woman stared straight into my eyes, the look of fear now replaced by a chilling dread. “Death,” she announced, the word hanging heavy in the air.
Death?
I’m nineteen years old. I shouldn’t have to worry about that until I’m much older than nineteen!
“There’s no way. I think you read my palm wrong,” I said, pushing my hand back toward her.
A flinch, like I’d struck her. Her eyes, once bright, went flat, a deadness settling over them. “Just… go,” she breathed, the words barely audible. “Stay away from the darkness… for as long as you can.” She pressed a hand to her chest, as if holding herself together.
“No, ma’am, you’ve got it wrong. I’m sure you do!” I continued to protest, but she kept backing away from me.
I was about to raise my voice a little louder when an arm rested across my shoulders, gently reminding me I was still in public.
“And we’re done here,” Jack declared, steering me away from the fortune teller’s stand. “What were you gonna do? Demand a refund?”
“She said I was going to die!” I gasped into Jack’s ear.
Jack recoiled, shooting me a look of annoyance as he cupped his ear with his hand. Jack’s poor ear. It had endured a rough day, and it was mostly my fault.
“Everyone is going to die one day. That’s hardly a shock,” Jack said glibly, but his tone held a surprising lightheartedness to it.
“She… she wouldn’t even come near me. Like I was cursed or something. She just stared, like if I touched her, she’d drop dead next…”
“Yeah, I saw,” Jack said with a knowing glint in his eyes. “She’s playing you hard. Got you hooked. Don’t let the wrinkles fool you. She’s a pro at this.”
“I don’t know…” I bit my lip. “It was… too real. The fear, I mean. People don’t just fake that.” I trailed off, thinking. “Why was she so terrified to touch me?”
“Could be she saw a close call? We were pretty close to… well, you know.” Jack looked at me, a flicker of something in his eyes. “But hey, I’m watching out for you. I’d know if anything was wrong.”
He smiled reassuringly and put his arm around my shoulder again. “You don’t need some fortune-teller when you’ve got me.”
“You’re right…” I sighed, taking comfort in his reassurance and trying to let go of that gnawing feeling in the pit of my stomach.
I couldn’t believe I’d been so foolish to pay five dollars to get rattled by a scam artist who called herself a fortune teller. What was worse was that I let her get into my head. Jack, with his usual easygoing charm, was already moving on, his eyes scanning the lively street scene for his next meal.
“Oh, and one last thing,” he whispered, his voice soft and comforting. It pulled me from my thoughts. I looked up at him, and he gave me a sly wink. “I won’t let anything bad happen to you.”
Author HC Harris 