'As we all did rise from the shadows'  hearth'

  We rhyme and we sing till our day sets to dusk'

  In a year long forgotten, with evening blues and the sweet scent of autumn, folklores rose in harmonic unison as the the chilly highland air gathered itself to herald the cold windy night.

  A fortune teller peddled through the street, her wrinkled eyes scanning the crowds. 'A most ordinary fate', she hummed 'oh, another one...wait this one is..–' her eyes locked on a fleeting dark apparition, and for reasons incomprehensible to mortals, the sight froze her in place. The ephemeral glance showed her a little girl in black attire, the after-image sending shockwaves through her mind.

  Her minty eyes flashed with a shade of dark obsidian, for a second all stood still. Then, the mischievous wind as if to make up for its lost momentum picked itself up with renewed vigour, startling all creatures in its wake. It knocked over her silk bonnet making the fortune teller begrudgingly return from her reverie.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  Before her lean back could embark upon it's downward descent though a hand appeared before her–now restored–minty irises, stealthily picking it up .

  'Why, thank you' she started, her eyes detached themselves from the ground and made their way upward to meet the kind samaritan.

  Even those who deign to discern the mystics of the earth and sky, draw the fugacious line that is the boundary to their boundless faith, somewhere. That is the truth Madam fortune teller has kept buried deep within her heart.

  Those like her that devote their lives to peruse the delicate strings called fate, can hope to see tempestuous patterns once in a lifetime, or once every three decade if they are lucky. In any case such anomalies are not frequent happenings, not something one hopes to see more than once in a day, much less within mere seconds of each other.

  The teenage boy infront of her smiled, his eyes that seemed ad if they borrowed a piece of the sun forming crescents.

  With a jolly 'be careful granny' he bowed, and handing her the bonnet gaily skipped away, disappearing into the city throngs.

  The fortune teller smiled. 'the universe is mighty' she whispered in her homeland's tongue as the winds carried her wizened figure away.