Ouroboros – Cycle 3 Excerpt

I’ve had an insanely productive week! I finished writing Cycle 2,3, and 4 of the “Ouroboros” novel and I’m almost done the final cycle. 94 pages and 38,457 words later; I’m estimating another 20 pages or 15,000 words until the first draft is completed! 🙂 So stoked!

This is an excerpt from Cycle 3.  Each cycle is from a different characters point of view.  The focal point character in this cycle is Miss Ambrosia Skye, a fortune teller who has a business out of her apartment.

To hear tracks from the Ouroboros - Original Score go to: http://soundcloud.com/greyspade

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Chapter 1

The sign outside her apartment door read:

MISS AMBROSIA SKYE – TAROT READINGS – PALMISTRY – ASTROLOGY

The superintendant hadn’t told her to take it down, but it had only been up a month or so. The interior of the apartment was decked out in New Age décor.  She had numerous books on Tarot, spiritual healing, angels, the afterlife, and communicating with departed souls; to name a few.  She was sitting at her kitchen table with a spread of Tarot cards in between her and her immediate clients, Mr. and Mrs. Everett.  Mrs. Everett was really engaged and interested in the reading, but it was overtly obvious that Mr. Everett was only there because she was.

Miss Ambrosia Skye drew a card from the deck and put it down on the table.

She stared at it, intently. “Hmm,” She bit her lower lip for added effect.

“What?” Mrs. Everett straightened in her seat, coming closer Skye and her cards.

“I just drew the Tower card,” Skye said in a purposely ambiguous tone.

“Is that a bad thing?”

“Well,” Skye paused, taking in how alertly Mrs. Everett was drinking in her every word and gesture, and how disinterested Mr. Everett looked, slumped back in his chair. “The Tower card is very similar to the Death Card–“

Mrs. Everett gasped.

Skye continued: “–In that it’s a card of destructive and creative power.  Just like a building that is condemned and must be torn down to make way for something new, so too is the purpose of the Tower card.  Is there something old, something that you’re holding onto that you need to let go of before you can move on?”

“That’s funny, isn’t it, David!  The kitchen.”

Trying to hide her surprise, Skye inquired: “Your kitchen?”

“Yes.  I’ve wanted to knock out the kitchen wall for years and make it open to the living room so that it’s more of an open concept thing.  David always thought it was too expensive, but if the cards are telling you . . .”

“The cards speak of change, and renewal.  It’s a fair bet that once you deal with the obstacle represented by the Tower card that emotional and financial wellbeing will flood back into your home.”

“See, David?” Mrs. Everett started in a condescending tone. “I told you it was the kitchen.  Didn’t I tell you?”

Mr. Everett just rolled his eyes.

*                 *                 *

After the tarot reading had finished, and Mr. and Mrs Everett had both said their goodbyes and gone-although Mr. Everett’s goodbye was more of a nod than a goodbye-Skye put on a pot of tea and got ready for her friend Casie James.

“Well, that was fast,” Casie laughed, taking a seat at the kitchen table of dual purposes.  “I see you even have a sign over your door.  Have you gotten a lot of customers?”

“You wouldn’t believe how many,” Skye smirked as she sipped her tea. “I put the sign up, paid for a few classy looking ads in the paper, and-“ She clapped her hands together loudly.
It jolted Casie somewhat.

“I’ve had fourteen people just this last week.  I’ve made almost fourteen hundred dollars, tax-free.”

“You charge a hundred dollars a visit?”

“I tell them that because I’m opening my house to them there’s an extra fee to come here to my home.”

“And they pay it?”

“So far,” Skye took another loud slurp of her tea. “Oh, I also started a website.”

“A website?”

“Yah, it’s really easy.  I just started with a free blog, customized it just enough so it looked legit, and then bought a domain name for about twelve bucks.”

“I just don’t understand how you can keep promoting a farce, when you don’t believe and know it’s a farce.  Other people trust you with major decisions in their lives, and you’re misleading them.”

“Casie, I don’t tell them anything they don’t already know or haven’t already thought of.  This is more of a psychological exercise.  I give vague open ended readings and they insert their own desired outcomes.  It’s exactly what they wanted to hear, they just wanted someone else to tell them.  To validate them.”

“I still think it’s wrong.”

“Fourteen hundred dollars in a week can’t be wrong?  That’s the kind of money I’d make in a month working at our old job, right?” She laughed. “I don’t understand how you can still work there.

“Well, it’s honest work.”

“Serving uptight assholes coffee isn’t honest work.  It’s soul crushing, mind numbing labour that further promotes an ideology of stuffy, elitism.  If I had to spend another second hearing assholes complaining about how their foam isn’t stiff enough, or their extra-hot latte is too extra-hot-” She exhaled and shook her head, remembering the epic shittiness of the customer service industry. “I’m helping these people.  They come to me and I give them a sense of contentment with the decisions they have already made.  My services are therapeutic.”

“I don’t know,” Casie pursed her lips to one side.

“Well, agree to disagree,” Skye smiled.  “Another glass of tea?”

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