In Which I meet The Magician

Recounting both the true and fictional accounts of the experiences of a tarot reader and medium: the effusive Madame Riteuar.
As told to Leenna Naidoo.

In Which I meet m_The Magician b

I could tell from the moment I first saw him that there was something…different about this Northerner.

His energy was strange—a strange observation in itself, for I am not one given to noticing such vibes in the first place. He didn’t so such make my skin crawl (that had been the lady in the early morning reading) but he did make it prickle ever so slightly. Still, it seemed he intended no harm, nor did I feel in danger; so I bravely indicated he sit, handed him the cards, and told him to shuffle.

The reading itself was good, with The Magician being very significant and well aspected. The more I read for him, the more I liked him. He, too, seemed relieved to have met a kindred spirit. So there we were bonding over the cards, with that nice little feeling spreading around the shop that only results from a good reading for a good person. He must have felt it too. He was certainly more relaxed than before, so much so, that even after his reading, he stayed a little longer for a chat.

He mentioned that he was a reader too. Inevitably, we fell into that conversation any two readers have: comparison of methods and other little quirks we consider unique to our own style and practice.

I must admit that I was very comfortable talking and laughing with this Magician by now. We were really relating to each other, something that’s not always easy to do for people with our tendencies. We could have been two old friends catching up over a cup of tea; only with his strange energy now more prominent, but not unpleasantly so. And yes, before you say anything else, I did think he was quite handsome. And I was enjoying it. It’s not everyday that a reader gets a visit from a magician, much less an attractive one.

So it came as quite a shock when he casually mentioned that he could shape-shift, and often did.

Into a wolf, no less.

I remembered staring at him quite dumbfounded and wide-eyed for a what seemed a long time. It wasn’t what I’d been expecting. This claim seemed much more far-fetched than my colleague’s (Mr H’s) claim that he’d missed his turn at the shop only because he’d been exhausted by his levitation exercise.

There stood The Magician, looking incredibly akin to the tarot-card which had struck me the most during his reading—Merlin, covered in feathers; a wolf at his heel…

His expression had changed, his face closing down to what it had been when he’d first walked in. I knew what he was thinking. How could I not? Yet, I could not speak.

He thought I didn’t believe him. He thought he’d been mistaken in trusting me with his strange confidence. He thought that I thought he was either quite crazed, or lying like mad trying to impress someone else ‘in the business’.

He quickly took his leave, along with his strange energy. And still I could not speak, even though I desperately wanted to. Although, it probably won’t have matter much. What I would have said was something like: “Oh!” or “My word!”, which probably would have had very much the same outcome to his leave-taking.

But what I wanted him to understand was something much more different. And…well…

I wished he would have stayed just a little longer, then I might have said what I wanted to say. Which probably would have gone something like this:
“Gosh! I can’t believe it! I can’t believe that I believe you! I know, now that you’ve told me in this totally everyday manner, that you do regularly shape-shift into a wolf! That explains everything—your strange vibe, the resemblance to the card, the fact that The Magician was so significant! Gosh! You’ve changed my whole reality in one fell swoop—with one unusual but very casual sentence. Gosh!” And so on.

Then I would have invited him to tea to learn more about it and his amazing magical experiences. Because there was absolutely one thing that had been clear to me from the first instance of our meeting: he was a good man. He meant me (or anyone else for that matter) no harm; unlike those wife-beaters (yes, we know who you are). Besides, it’s always nice to meet someone who doesn’t look at you like you’ve just been run over by a carriage every time you mention something vaguely odd happened to you.

And then, instead of him disappearing like that–never to be seen by me again—we might have been good friends helping each other through some magical experiences, like good friends should.

Oh, well. Sometimes you see it coming, sometimes you don’t.

eBook Winners

Two winners this week!

Laurel Gabrielle Feasey wins last week’s eBook giveaway of Kieron’s Tale and How Not To Meet The Man of Your Dreams.

ComfyReads wins a prize too: eBooks of How Not To Meet The Man of Your Dreams and The Bear.

I’ll be contacting you within the week.

Tarot Reading Giveaway

Unfortunately, there is winner for this last draw.

Thank you for being a part of The Big Blog Birthday Bash.


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