fortune

Don't ask, don't tell.

        She made her way quietly down the dank alley towards a dismally lit tavern, her cloak whispering around her body. The alley reeked of vomit and stale urine; hanging in the still air on a starless night.
        An old gypsy sat slumped against the wall near the tavern's entrance; a stick of incense burned at the gypsy's left, its glowing red tip the only color present and its wispy smoke fighting valiantly against the alley's putrid stench. A crystal ball sat to the gypsy's right, next to that was a small tin with a few coins in it. The gypsy's gold earrings tangled with dirty, brittle white hair.
        As she walked by, the gypsy's gnarled fingers grabbed onto her cloak with a loud report from many bangles circling a boney wrist. Reflexively she twisted and knelt down, bringing her face close to the gypsy's emaciated face and her knife to the gypsy's throat.
        "Your hands- I smell death on your hands. The red on your hands will stain your soul- dark as pitch. Dark as the night sky. A black soul! Black!"
        "Shut up..."
        "You must stop now! Before it consumes you! Your heart will wither and die! You'll ne-"
        She pulled back and stood up in one fluid motion as the gypsy slumped forward, chin to chest.
        "I hate gypsies."
        Light spilled into the dirty cobbled alleyway as she pulled the tavern door open. She walked into the tavern as the gypsy's blood added a tangy fresh touch to the well established smells of the alley. A small black cat slipped into the tavern behind her, its shadow tail flicking on the alley's opposite wall, right before the door swung shut, casting the alley into darkness once again.