The Gift

Short story about deception and fraud and a young woman's change of heart.

She had the gift. Her mother had it, just as her mother before her had had it.

Anastasia Savant moved steadily through her tiny shop. Gingerly plucking each small brown jar from its assigned place, she smiled sadly at the labels. She knew they were filled with plain vinegar, cooking oil or tinted water. Placing each jar, bought in bulk via eBay, into the sturdy cardboard box, she sighed.

The scratched toy crystal ball and over-sized tarot cards purchased from the now defunct magic shop in Dallas, found themselves within the confines of the box as well. The brightly colored pictures on the cards seemed to mock her. Anastasia closed her eyes tightly before continuing her task.

The Ouija boards, books depicting stories of voodoo and witches and the dozens upon dozens of fake leather drawstring bags containing snippets of dog hair quickly followed their companions. Anastasia had always been grateful to her terrier, dubbed Magic, for cooperating in his appointments with her long silver-handled scissors. Unbeknownst to the pup, his locks were to be used in deceptive spells and conjurings.

Closing the box, Anastasia turned and watched the neon sign in the front window flash red. Off, on. Off, on. Palm Reader. Palm Reader. Palm Reader. The sign had been her biggest expense; even the online palm reading course had been cheaper.

Staring into the hypnotizing flashes against the darkening sky beyond, Anastasia's thoughts turned to her gift. What had it truly cost her? Money? No, not much. Relationships? Possibly. Peace of mind? Definitely.

Hefting the box into fleshy arms, Anastasia juggled the bulk as she opened the heavy wooden door leading to the back alleyway. Standing on tiptoe, she watched contentedly as the box toppled into the dark recesses of the massive green Dumpster.

Wiping her grimy hands on her colorful silken robes, she grinned brightly at the memories of her last customer. A little old lady, slightly hunchbacked and sporting a bluish-gray fifties-style hairdo had entered the shop earlier that very afternoon. The elderly woman was grieving the death of her husband whom had passed just days before. She had so many questions. Was Bentley okay? Was Bentley at peace? What future was she going to have without the love of her life by her side?

Anastasia had taken her tarot cards and placed them one by one on the long wooden table. She opened her red ruby lips, ready to spout her routine mumbo-jumbo when the widow began to cry. Opening her pocketbook, Bentley's wife extracted a pile of cash.

"This is ten thousand dollars, Miss Anastasia," she had explained. "Our life savings. I can get more if you need it. Please, help me find comfort."

Stepping back into the shop and locking the alley door behind her, Anastasia picked up her shoulder bag and scooped her keys off the chipped dark blue counter.

She could see the woman's crumbling image in her mind's eye. She could see her own manicured fingertips shoving the money pile back toward the woman. She couldn't take that much cash. She couldn't take that amount of advantage.

Anastasia revealed herself as a fraud; a hoax; a complete liar.

The customer had left in a huff, swearing she would find someone; anyone who would tell her what she wanted to hear. Anastasia had no doubt the lady would discover that person soon. She didn't have to be psychic to figure that out.

She was tired. Tired of the gift. Tired of the gift of deceit; tired of the gift of trickery, tired of the gift of scam.

Walking out to the porch, she flipped the switch that cut power to the blinking neon sign and pried the wooden sign boasting her name from the bright orange front door.

She could now return to normalcy; return to being ordinary Jenny Ray.

As the fog rolled in and the wind whipped her colorful silken robes around long legs, the ordinary woman dreamed of an ordinary job and an ordinary life. She knew ordinary was on the horizon. She wasn't quite sure HOW she knew; perhaps it was a gift?

Author's Note

Please give an overall review on this short story. Thank you!

Reviews

[roarke]

Strong sentences well timed. More can be told about the client and about the ordinary Jenny Ray, without bogging down the pace and concept of the story. Let this one simmer and come back to it. Ask questions of your characters. Yep, strong writing.

[MelissaAndres]

Thank you, Roarke. You have given me something to ponder. Although this is a short story I could possibly, one day, turn it into something longer. You never know! I appreciate you reading.

[roarke]

This is like flash fiction length these days. Short stories no matter what their length can have dense imagery, memorable characters, and complex plots. Match the right narrative voice to the genre. Mostly, have lots of fun writing it and your readers will have lots of fun reading it.

[MelissaAndres]

Oh, I have lots of fun writing just about anything. Of course I would love to please every single person who reads my ramblings but I know that's not always the case. I try to take everything with a grain of salt. I used to get upset but have come to realize that I know what I write isn't going to be everyone's cup of tea.

[Samuel Dickens]

Quite interesting, and a new slant on the meaning of "gift." In this story, perhaps the ability to pry one's self from a dirty but lucrative rut really is a gift. Many couldn't do it. A conscience can be a wonderful thing.

[MelissaAndres]

Yup, in this one, generation after generation lied and cheated the public at large but finally someone stepped up and did the right thing! All it takes is one person to change things. Hey, I gotta run for a little while. Not sure if I will be back today but I definitely will be tomorrow. Thanks for all your wonderful comments, once again! :)