She knew she shouldn’t have seen that psychic in the Village; the lady in dingy shawl, on a corner outside a shady cafe. But no; Lizzy insisted. “C’mon Sam! It’ll be fun!” she whined playfully. Sam gave in. What could be the worst that could happen?
Lizzy went first. “I see-” the guazy lady muttered into her murky crystal ball, “I see, something in trouble- someone will need your assistance against all odds- dispite resistance from close ones…” Lizzy giggled.
“Your turn!” she said to me. I slowly perched myself in front of the psychic. Suddenly her face was taken by a dark shadow. She “consulted” her dingy ball.
“Well?” Sam asked. She gave her a piercing stare.
“You’re mind is not troubled! There is something amiss!” She almost laughed. But isn’t that a good thing, having a clear mind?
“Oh my child! I must help you!” she screeched, tossing a glass of some liquid over her head.
“What the heck?” Lizzy shrieked. Almost immediately Sam felt tipsy, mind fogging.
Then, when alone, the “people” came.