Our creator wraps every soul with the strings of fate. Nothing can tear them apart. No scissor to cut them loose. No blade to sever it once woven. What if you could read the woven strings in the transparent world? Luna could answer that question from the moment she reached nine. A single touch of another person would let her peer into that world. Images filled with haze and darkness, obscuring their details, as if they knew the secrets they held. Luna kept the visions to herself. With the passage of time, Luna’s visions grew in potency and in tandem her vocabulary also flourished.

Which presented her with the opportunity to explain the images seen to others. Luna would charge her classmates and friends for readings. Doing daily readings from the first period to eighth period became the only reason to show up at school. Her pockets overflowed with cash. Every other aspect of public school education fell into the abyss.

Even at that young age, Luna could comprehend how powerful her gift was. She also understood the lucrative ramifications, regardless of consequences. At sixteen, she dropped out of school to start her own business. Luna spent the next five years running around surrounding cities and boroughs establishing herself as a must see psychic. Luna tracked her vision success rate. She averaged a forty percent chance of the vision coming true. It’s enough for most to keep paying for her services. This led Luna down a path of opulence and pleasure.

One night Luna ran into the cross stitch woven tied to her fate. The event was an engagement party for Rosabella Bluestone. Without Luna, Rosabella would have never made the first move on her future husband. Rosabella brought Luna to be named one of bridesmaids and do her readings on the other guests invited. The party happened at Harmony Haven, a well-known jazz club on the lower east side of Luna’s city.

Intricate stars and planets lined the ceilings of the bar. Suspended above them, chandeliers of abstract contemporary design dazzled above. Strategically positioned, dim bulbs of recessed lighting created an ambient effect. A soft glow that reflected off the somber oak hardwood floors. The chatter of all the guests invited to the engagement party filled the room. Animated chatter intermingled with the small band commissioned for this special evening. A rhythmic cadence of love and energy pulsed between the two forces.

Luna toyed with her bourbon cocktail filled with amaro and lemon juice. Luna hated being around an excessive crowd of people. If she bumped into people and activated her visions, it would overwhelm her senses. An overflow of visions would cause her sight to mimic a kaleidoscope of psychedelic coated colors. The bar granted her that safety.

Several loud claps followed by the feedback of a mic being activated diffused the music and chatter. The two love birds which summoned the large group took to the small stage.

“We want to thank everyone for coming to celebrate this moment in our lives,” Liam, the fiancé of Rosabella, said. Rosabella grabbed the mic from Liam.

“We appreciate everyone who showed up tonight. I personally want to thank Luna! For being the catalyst for mustering the courage to speak to my fine ass future husband.” Rosabella said. The room laughed at her comment.

“So me and Liam decided maybe she could do the same for everyone willing to let her read their futures.” Rosabella continued. Rosabella scanned the room for Luna. When she spotted Luna, she pointed at her.

“The cutie in the turtleneck and plaid trousers is Luna. Give her a round of applause,” Rosabella shouted. Luna stood up from the bar and moved towards the front of the room. The guests whistled and clapped. Liam and Rosabella set up a little table for Luna to do her readings. From the table, Luna retrieved tarot cards and a board with astrological signs.

“For those interested, just form a line and she will work her magic!” Liam said. Several people lined up in front of Luna’s table. The band played a slow tempo rhythm. The pianist and bassist improvised together. Luna shuffled her deck of tarot cards while the first person in line took a seat. A blonde with curtain bangs and freckles speckled on her face.

The woman extended her hand to greet Luna. “My name’s Stephanie,” she said. Luna shook her head. “Be careful of who you shake hands with. You will exchange energy and mix unwanted energy.” Luna said. Stephanie’s hand jolted back to her side. Luna smiled at Stephanie.

“There will be a time for us to channel our energies into a perfect vision,” Luna said. Luna placed the shuffled deck onto her arcane board. She drew the first card from the top of the deck and placed it on a sun image inscribed onto the board. The first card revealed being the empress in the upright position.

“The empress could mean a lot of things: powerful fertility, a creative period of your work career or even the sharing of material wealth,” Luna said. “Place your hand on the card,” she continued. Stephanie placed her left hand on the empress tarot card. Luna guided her delicate right hand to cover Stephanie’s hand. Luna closed her eyes and she could see Stephanie holding a check with several faded zeros. She reopened her eyes and looked at Stephanie, who held with bated breath for her answer.

“It’s money. A check will steer your life in the true direction you want” Luna said.

Stephanie sat at the table with a blank face. “No way!” Stephanie said. She left the table and headed for the bar.

Her comment puzzled the rest of the guests, but it did not stop them from getting readings from Luna. Luna read several people over the course of the next hour. Nothing stood out in particular. People asked the same boring questions. Will I find my true love? When can I expect a promotion from this job? Are there any messages from my dead relative? Luna didn’t mind at first,  but with every consecutive engagement, her vision became distorted.

Then a porcelain pale skinned woman with a black razor shag cut sat down at Luna’s table. She gestured a hello to Luna.

“What’s your name and what would you like to know?” Luna asked the pale woman

“Samara, my friends call me Sam or Sammy. Either or whatever works best for you. I would like to know what my dreams mean? Do you do that type of thing?” Samara asked. Luna paused for a moment. Dream interpretation was not something she ever engaged in.

“I have never tried! But if we join hands and you explain it, maybe I could find the meaning,” Luna said with cheer because this request brought curiosity to her. Samara placed both of her hands palm side up onto Luna’s arcane board.

“Close your eyes and speak with me, drown out the surrounding noise,” Luna told Samara. Luna placed her hands on Samara’s hands, then closed her eyes. The world around Luna envelopes itself in the eternal void. As Samara spoke, Luna could see the world build around her. She could see Samara chained to a seat with her arms placed upon a desk in front of her. Fresh, waxed candles surrounded her that burned neon chartreuse. She struggled into the chair. Her screams for help did not carry outwards. The feeling of impending doom rushed through her veins.

Luna walked towards Samara. Samara panic increased. With enhanced vigor, she struggled to free herself from the restraints. Samara’s lips formed words, but no sound emerged. Luna saw an endless void when she looked back. When Luna faced back towards Samara, her body hunched over. Luna took a step forward, her leg buckled as the floor’s depth increased. The candles ignited brighter. This revealed the ripples flowing outwards. The sanguine liquid that drenched Luna’s clothes. Luna backpedaled away from Samara. Samara’s body straightened up, her mouth opened wide. An arm extended out of her mouth. The sanguine liquid bubbled. Blobs of the liquid arose above the surface and gravitated towards the hand that pried out of Samara’s mouth.

Luna opened her eyes. Everyone at the party stood around her. Rosabella kneeled next to her.

“Honey, are you ok?” Rosabella asked. Luna took a moment to observe the room. Samara still sat across from her. She maintained a stoic expression, mirroring the rest of the group, while awaiting a response.

“Sorry to worry you all! I just got lost in what I was witnessing.” Luna said. Luna stood up then said, “Her dream led me down a path of metamorphosis. For those who could hear her dream, it involved feeling stuck. Chained and bound by a seat and desk. It represents her sentiment of relinquishing her energy for work that is harmful to her physical well-being.” Luna walked over to Samara and stood behind her.

“Rosabella, my tarot deck is in front of you. If I am right, when you placed the card on the table it will be the thirteen tarot death faced upright. Symbolizing, she will have a beautiful change that will reinvigorate her life.” Luna said as she pointed to the deck of cards. Everyone watched as Rosabella pulled the top card and placed it on the table. The card displayed a skeleton with a roman numeral thirteen tattooed on its face. The skeleton smiled as it held up a peace sign. A collective murmur of surprise flooded the room.

Luna leaned into Samara. “Everything will be ok” Luna said. Then she walked off to the restrooms on the second floor of the establishment. When Luna walked into an empty stall and sat down on the closed toilet seat. She coughed and covered her mouth. She examined her hands and a muddy brown mahogany soaked her palms. Her breath shook and increased in weight. She could not regain control of emotions as a storm of sadness fell from her face onto palms.

Several days later, the sunlight clawed itself through the window blinds of Luna’s apartment. It brushed against Luna’s face. To light a new day for her. A stained mahogany hand guided her curtains to a close. To block out the infestation of light that seeped through without permission. The hand reached out to touch Luna. Luna slumbered, immersed in her world of dreams. Before the decrepit hand could reach her, Luna’s phone rang. Luna fumbled about to gain her bearings. The call was from a random phone number out of state.

“Hello?” Luna’s voice struggled to project itself.

“Luna! Sorry if I woke you, I have great news,” the voice said

"Who is this?" Luna asked, opening the curtains and blinds to her room?”

“It’s Stephanie from the engagement party!” the woman said. 

“Oh right Steph, what’s the news?” Luna asked as she opened up her bedroom window and lit a cigarette for herself.

“Your fortune of me coming into money was so right! My step father died, and I was the only person on his will,” Stephanie said. 

Luna took a drag of her cigarette. “Aint, that some shit. Well, I hope the others don’t get jealous that your fortunes came so fast.” Luna said. Luna flicked the ashes outside of her window.

“Don’t worry, everyone else’s fortunes came true already. I was actually the last person! Let me add you to our group chat so everyone can talk to you,” Stephanie said. The phone call disconnected. Luna took several more drags of her cigarette. Her phone began to ping and vibrate. She browsed through Stephanie’s new group chat.

Noah Cooper: I met the love of my life for sure last night.

Anita Collins: Get this. She said my soul would bloom in two. I took a pregnancy test and now I am expecting.

Henry Richardson: My boss finally acknowledges my sixty-hour work weeks. He’s giving me the promotion I have been waiting for.

Zara Khan: I went to the doctor just yesterday because Luna said I need to worry about my health. An ovarian cyst was developing. Thank god we caught it early.

Luna scratched her head as she sought to calculate the success rate of that night. Twenty reads and so far nineteen of the twenty resulted in readings coming true.

“What the … a hundred percent accuracy,” Luna murmured to herself. She exited her bedroom and entered the living room.

“Dude, put some pants on!” Luna’s roommate Claude said. Luna looked over at him in the living room, working on his latest painting. An image of a girl sitting hunched over, her eyes filled a green shade only found within a witch’s kettle. The girl’s black disheveled hair sticking out in every direction possible in this dimension. Flowers protruded out of her abdominal region. Rusted chains resting upon her lap.

“I have pants on, hence the underwear,” Luna jested as she charged her way over to the kitchen to make a bowl of cereal. 

“Hilarious Luna,” Claude said while he continued with his latest work.

“What happened to the last piece you were working on?” Luna said. The cupboards clashed with each other while she prepared her glorious meal.

“It lacked soul, so I threw it out. I dreamt of this new piece a few days ago,” Claude said.

Luna hovered over Claude  with spoonfuls of cereal in her mouth. The familiarity of the image brought her back to the engagement party. The intricate paint strokes bled out of the canvas. Which fell onto the beige tarp beneath Claude. Luna heard various snaps. Her attention refocused on Claude.

“Brain still booting?” Claude said.

“Nothing a little nicotine and coffee can’t fix, but I see my personality influence on this artwork. We can do a seventy thirty cut.” Luna said with dribbles of the starch cereal bits falling down her face.

“A cut? ninety ten split, but your ten will go directly to dinner. And back up your way too close.” Claude nudged her with his elbow. 

“Which is it, the messy eating or the half naked part?” Luna questioned.

“Both. Anaya is coming soon. I don’t want an awkward situation.” Claude said.

“More awkward than me finding you two on the couch half drunk and…” Luna said

“Yes! Please stop, it’s embarrassing” Claude said. Claude checked his watch. As Claude continued to add more flare to the painting, he asked, “It’s 12:30 pm. Why are you up?”

Luna darted back into her room. “Well, I am going to the shop. I have a full schedule today of readings and follow-ups.” Luna yelled. Luna grabbed a collection of clothes and tossed them into the living room and created an outfit of the bundle mess. Claude just watched as various articles of clothing found new homes across the room.

Claude asked, "You're not showering?" with a hint of concern.

“No need, it hasn’t been forty hours yet,” Luna said. Claude’s face scrunched up and his body shivered at the thought.

“Dude gross,” Claude replied.

“Don’t worry, the funk adds to the mysticism. I feel the juices flowing when I don’t take a shower.” Luna said.

“That’s called sweat, Loon” Claude said.

Luna playfully echoed Claude’s statement before she completed her outfit. She grabbed the pile of clothes in the center of the room and threw them into her room. Luna grabbed her messenger bag and her bike, ready to set off to her shop.

“You can keep my ten percent fee if you pick up the other clothes, gotta go!” Luna bolted out the door without leaving room for Claude to respond.

The metropolis pulsed with energy as the day’s zenith unfolded. Traffic choked every corner, while caffeinated go-getters thronged every block. Luna blazed through the congested streets, carving her own path. Within a mere fifteen minutes, she arrived at her shop, her mind consumed by thoughts of Claude’s painting, which stirred within her.

She lowered her steel gate coated in graffiti tags and artwork of her, which were the handiwork of Claude’s friends. Luna entered her shop. It was a discreet hole in the wall, overlooked unless one had the address. The small place suited her work atmosphere. Luna pressed the light switch, but they denied her request today. Luna lit candles that were scattered across the room. A delivery man came with several packages. She placed them on the table that sat in the middle of the shop and opened each one. One package contained a leather-bound book with several symbols littered about. A sword, pentacle, wands, and cup placed in each corner. Roman numeral numbers etched in circular clock style.

The clasp that held the book closed refused to open. Luna fidgeted with the lock but just like the lights, it denied her request today. A frantic knock on her shop  entry door echoed across the small shop. Luna noticed the familiar woman. It was Samara. Her eyes carried unforeseen baggage. Luna hurried over to her. The muddy mahogany hand reappeared with its long black nails of an unkept witch, it unlatched the lock of the bounded book before vanishing once more.

“Samara? What are you doing here? Luna asked.

“Luna, thank God you’re here. I need to talk to you,” Samara exclaimed as she walked into the store, leaving Luna bewildered by her unexpected presence. Luna harbored happiness in the depths of her mind. One of her readings was off. Samara took a seat near the table with all the opened packages. 

“Can you examine me and use your starboard, maybe your cards or something?” Samara said.

“I mean sure Samara, but you look…” Luna said

“Frightened? I haven’t slept in days since the engagement party. I have been having experiences that have driven me to not sleep. If I close my eyes, its…” Samara said. Samara fondled her own skin, then said, “Crawling closer and closer to me.”

Luna stepped back to her desk and noticed the leather-bound book opened. Luna flipped through the pages at a rapid pace. There was nothing on the pages. Just swords engraved into each corner of the pages. Luna placed the book back down on the desk.

“You want some tea? It will calm your nerves,” Luna asked Samara. She then grabbed a pen and handed it over to Samara. 

“How about you write about your experience? Our thoughts and imagery we hold within our mind are toxic to our body,” Luna said. Luna handed a fresh journal and laid it beside the new one that she had just received in the mail.

Samara stuttered and said “Yeah good idea” 

Luna strode into the back of her store, where a quaint kitchen awaited her every day. There she brewed a tea of chamomile and lavender together for Samara. Simultaneously brewed a pot of coffee for herself. The mixture of earthy tones battled each other for dominance over the kitchen space. The coffee was victorious by the end of the robust brew. Luna traveled back to the front of the store to see Samara engrossed in a fervent writing session. Page after page, Samara’s hand moved with unyielding speed. Ordinary hands are not designed for such speed.

As Luna approached Samara, Luna realized Samara was writing in the leather-bound book from the mail.

“Samara, that’s the wrong book,” Luna said when she sat the lavender and chamomile tea in front of her. Samara kept writing and ignored the comment made by Luna. Her body contorted into a hunch position as she unleashed a second torrent of cursive scripts on the page. The ink from the pen bled into the sheets beneath the page, merging and creating lasting imprints. Luna snapped her fingers in front of Samara’s face, then she placed the pen down.

“Why did you snap at me? I am a good girl. I did as you asked!” Samara said. Her eyes hollow discs. She looked through Luna as if she was talking to someone else. Luna glanced behind her. Nothing existed other than the pathway to the kitchen.

“Luna, you got the tea already? It smells amazing. Your advice really helped my mind feels hollow and pure now like it should be!” Samara said. Samara sipped on the tea. Luna nodded and took the journal from Samara’s side of the table. Luna examined the writings, and they had nothing coherent. Random words jotted across. Different languages: Latin, Spanish, French. With each set of four words penned, the language would shift to one of the three alternatives.

“I want to do a different type of reading if that is good with you Samara,” said Luna.

“All for it, please! I hear you’re getting better at your craft,” Samara chuckled.

Luna rose from her chair and grabbed a crystal ball and positioned it in the center of the table. She relocated the tea and coffee cups to a separate table. To block the outside light, Luna pulled down a black sheet over the door. She lit several more candles in the shop. The candles flickered a soft amber glow. Luna sat back down.

“Place your hand on the ball, close your eyes and focus on my words,” Luna said.

Samara’s hand reached out, then grabbed Luna’s arm.

“It’s here,” Samara said.

In a split second of the shock Luna blinked and she was no longer in her shop. She stood opposite Samara, facing the site of the first vision. The candles flickered from red to the neon chartreuse. The floor liquified, Luna could feel the dampness seep into her shoes and crawl up her legs. Luna and Samara, bound by handcuffs to each other. Rusted chains formed around Samara’s body, and squeezed on her, pushing out her breath. She struggled, her breath agitated until a single pop inundated the liminal space.

Luna blinked once more, and the space returned to her shop. She saw Samara’s head cocked back, blood dripping from the side of her neck with raw, cracked bone tissue. A fossilized ivory reptilian structure head had its jaws locked around Samara’s neck. Several humanlike red hands with elongated nails compressed her body so she would not topple over. Luna’s eyes widened. She wanted to scream. Luna locked eyes with the strange abstract beast. Samara’s body shook and from her abdominal region another hand of this creature pushed itself out. Holding a single white orchid. Luna extended her hand to grab the orchid. The monster removed its teeth from Samara to utter one word, one question “Societas?”