Carolyn Burns hates her husband; not that James abuses her, he is simply fat, greasy, reeking of cigarettes and beer. She often dreams of his demise.
Carolyn’s life is mundane, she works as a Secretary at Traveler’s Insurance Company, the same hours, the same people, the same walls.
One afternoon Carolyn exits the bus at her regular Main Street stop, which she has done for ten years. She notices a shop called The Psychedelic Goddess, a place she has never noticed before.
Carolyn feels drawn towards it.
Inside the shop Carolyn is overwhelmed by the scents of sandlewood incense and honeysuckle. There are dream catchers on the wall, all around there are shelves with little bottles. A young lady with long black hair stands behind the counter, “I’m Heather, I can help you.” She has a pink bandana around her head, wearing a long tie-dye dress of pink, yellow, purple and green.
“Did you just open up?” Carolyn asks.
Heather’s voice is sweet like music, “We’ve been here for years. It takes a while for people to notice us, some never do.”
“What do you sell?”
“Tea, herbal remedies, dream catchers, wishes.”
Carolyn repeats, “Wishes?”
“Anything you like. You want something or you wouldn’t be here.” Heather intertwines her well-manicured fingers, resting her hands on the counter.
“I.”
“No judgements here. You want something. We can grant it.” Heather turns away opening a draw, taking out some papers, placing them down on the counter.
“What’s that?”
“Your husband, James, is going to have a terrible accident in about five minutes after you sign this form. Electrocuted.”
Heather shakes her head, “Dreadful. Fortunately, he has a life insurance policy making you a very rich woman.” Sliding the papers towards her, placing a pen on top, “Or you can live your same boring life and die early from a heart attack.” Heather lifts her eyes, “Fifteen years from now.”
Carolyn feels a push towards the counter, lifting the pen signing all the places Heather directs her to.
“There.” Heather smiles with a contented nod of her head, “It’s done.” Moving her chin, “Take out your cell phone now, saves time.”
Carolyn does, not two minutes later it rings. The voice on the other end is James’ boss telling her the sad news. James has been electrocuted. The boss expresses his deep condolences.
Carolyn hangs up the phone.
“Now, you owe us a favor. We may not ask you this year, or next year, or in ten years, but one day we will ask.”
“Who are you?”
“Once we were gods worshipped on Olympus, Valhalla. The age of gods ended, mankind became corrupt and greedy, no longer needing us. Yet we went on. So now, we make deals.”
“And you are?”
“Hecate.” Heather folds up the contract, “As soon as you walk out the door you will forget me, this place. We will not forget you, however. You will remember us when the time comes. Until then, go in peace.”
Bio
Catherine Cahill was born in East Hartford, Connecticut. She worked for various agencies of The State of Connecticut for thirty-one years, retiring in 2017. Since retiring, she has trained in Mixed Martial Arts: Krav Maga, Muay Thai Kickboxing and Jui-jitsu. When she is not training, Catherine spends time on her other passion, writing stories.
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