the fortune teller

“My sources say no.”

She sighed and looked into the deep blue pupil of the fortune teller. She was desperate. She needed another answer. Without another answer, there were no other questions. There was nothing left to discover. Nothing left to show for it. Nothing left to know.

The answer lay flat in front of her with all of the other options suspended in time and space, waiting for some force to turn the tables. Nothing came. Nothing would change the outcome. Nothing would shake the prophet to its senses. Nothing would tilt the planned pretenses.

The fortune teller, cloaked in black, confident and expressionless. Practicing the magic of fiction as fact, with no need for empathy. Trading the future for the past, with a symbol of infinity tattooed on a shoulder blade. The part of the game that can cause you to lose before you get a chance to win. Everything floating in the pit of a sterile stomach. Everything at the tip of the iceberg. Everything scratching at the surface of the mind. Everything behind the eye of the blind.

She tightened her grip and grinded her teeth. She couldn’t accept it. Her father had taught her a few lessons before his plane went down. He used to tell her to keep a machete in case she didn’t like the path she was on. He’d tell her that nothing could stand in her way if she wasn’t set on a particular direction. And here she was stuck on the words of the psychic with nowhere to go and nothing to say. Nothing in the places where she’d lost her way.

The clairvoyant appeared to have a handful of faces, all looking in different directions across the void. All of them with different minds and taking sides, but with a common understanding of fate. You can live and die by the rules when you make them up. Everything can be predicted. Everything can be planned. Everything can be held in the palm of your hand.

She suddenly exploded forward with love and fear, violently shaking the fortune teller, tears streaming from her eyes. With everything spinning and bubbling to the surface, she knew she had nothing to lose - nothing to gain and nothing to lose. Nothing in chance that would let her choose.

“Better not tell you now,” the fortune teller whispered.

She hurled the plastic sphere into the canyon. She finally knew the answer that could stop all of the questions. There was only one way to predict the future, only one way out. Nothing would stand in the way. Nothing would break the fall.  Nothing that she couldn’t kill. Nothing wouldn’t keep the icosahedron still.

She stepped over the edge.

There was nothing.