haven’t seen anything,” I protest. “What shadow? What sphere?”
There something covered with a handkerchief sitting on the little table. The gypsy pulls the cloth away, revealing a crystal ball. Her hands begin to dance rhythmically above the ball, almost caressing it, though she never touches it. The branches of the strange woman’s hands are studded with rings. Inside the crystal something begins to move, and smoke comes spiraling up, tracing elongated shapes that linger for an instant before vanishing. A face appears, perfectly visible. A chill passes through my whole body.
“I knew it,” says the gypsy, with a smile. “You can feel it.”
It’s all so absurd, so unreal. I know this is happening, but I keep hoping that if I deny it it will go away. The madness will disappear, like in a bad dream, and I’ll go back to the real world.
“I don’t feel anything,” I say, trying to sound convincing.
“You are the chosen one...”
I feel a chill again, strong enough to shake my entire body.
“I’m just cold.”
I say it resolutely, trying to convince myself, too.
“No, not cold, no. It’s something very dark, evil... only a few people can see it. Let me see your hand.”
“For what? No!” I try to pull away, but my right hand is already trapped between the woman’s rough hands of unsanded wood.
“You’ve slipped into the Sphere without permission.”
“What sphere?”
“You see?” The gypsy points at the crystal ball, but I don’t see anything. I try to move my hand but she holds it tighter. “The membrane is torn.”
“I don’t see anything. I have to go, really.”
“More and more are disappearing,” she whispers. “No one knows where they go. Only you.”
“I don’t know anything!” I yank my hand away and stand up, ready to get out of there any way I can.
“You know it. You’ve come in through the torn place.”
“I didn’t tear anything, I didn’t do anything, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I have to go. They’re waiting for me.”
“So it is,” says the woman, placing her hands over the crystal ball again, “someone’s waiting for you. But you can’t go anywhere. Not until you finish your mission.”
I’m dying of fear. This is really more than I can take. My feet and hands have gone to sleep. I open my mouth so I can beg her to let me go, but my muscles won’t budge.
“You’ve come to put things in order, but that’s just one of your missions.”
“What are you saying? Let me go, please!”
“Whether you go is up to you. I told you already: you can’t do it until you finish your task.”
“What task? Leave me alone!”
“Ask for whatever you want, whatever you need, you’re the one who was sent.”
The gypsy strokes my head gently with her rough hand, and for some reason beyond imagining, I find it soothing.
“I need to sleep .” My words come out in a wail.
“Why?!” the woman screeches in surprise. They all look at me like I’ve just said the strangest thing in the world.
“I’m very tired. I need to sleep.”
My house is gone and the hotel is in ruins. I truly have nowhere to go.
“Can I stay here?”
The woman shrugs.
“Can I have something warm to put on?”
Still stroking my head with one hand, the gypsy uses the other to take off her shawl and give it to me. She leaves, along with the others. The musicians begin to play a slow, soft melody. I rest my head on my arms on the table and fall fast asleep.
5
––––––––
T he bright morning light forces my eyes open. It takes me a few minutes to figure out where I am. I sit up and slowly turn my head from side to side, my neck aching from having slept sitting up. The bandstand is empty, with just a few cigarette butts left lying on the ground. The flower-embroidered shawl that I slept under last night is hanging over the wooden railing, flapping in the wind.
I look out at the beach. The tide is out, revealing a stretch of endless sand. To my
There something covered with a handkerchief sitting on the little table. The gypsy pulls the cloth away, revealing a crystal ball. Her hands begin to dance rhythmically above the ball, almost caressing it, though she never touches it. The branches of the strange woman’s hands are studded with rings. Inside the crystal something begins to move, and smoke comes spiraling up, tracing elongated shapes that linger for an instant before vanishing. A face appears, perfectly visible. A chill passes through my whole body.
“I knew it,” says the gypsy, with a smile. “You can feel it.”
It’s all so absurd, so unreal. I know this is happening, but I keep hoping that if I deny it it will go away. The madness will disappear, like in a bad dream, and I’ll go back to the real world.
“I don’t feel anything,” I say, trying to sound convincing.
“You are the chosen one...”
I feel a chill again, strong enough to shake my entire body.
“I’m just cold.”
I say it resolutely, trying to convince myself, too.
“No, not cold, no. It’s something very dark, evil... only a few people can see it. Let me see your hand.”
“For what? No!” I try to pull away, but my right hand is already trapped between the woman’s rough hands of unsanded wood.
“You’ve slipped into the Sphere without permission.”
“What sphere?”
“You see?” The gypsy points at the crystal ball, but I don’t see anything. I try to move my hand but she holds it tighter. “The membrane is torn.”
“I don’t see anything. I have to go, really.”
“More and more are disappearing,” she whispers. “No one knows where they go. Only you.”
“I don’t know anything!” I yank my hand away and stand up, ready to get out of there any way I can.
“You know it. You’ve come in through the torn place.”
“I didn’t tear anything, I didn’t do anything, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I have to go. They’re waiting for me.”
“So it is,” says the woman, placing her hands over the crystal ball again, “someone’s waiting for you. But you can’t go anywhere. Not until you finish your mission.”
I’m dying of fear. This is really more than I can take. My feet and hands have gone to sleep. I open my mouth so I can beg her to let me go, but my muscles won’t budge.
“You’ve come to put things in order, but that’s just one of your missions.”
“What are you saying? Let me go, please!”
“Whether you go is up to you. I told you already: you can’t do it until you finish your task.”
“What task? Leave me alone!”
“Ask for whatever you want, whatever you need, you’re the one who was sent.”
The gypsy strokes my head gently with her rough hand, and for some reason beyond imagining, I find it soothing.
“I need to sleep .” My words come out in a wail.
“Why?!” the woman screeches in surprise. They all look at me like I’ve just said the strangest thing in the world.
“I’m very tired. I need to sleep.”
My house is gone and the hotel is in ruins. I truly have nowhere to go.
“Can I stay here?”
The woman shrugs.
“Can I have something warm to put on?”
Still stroking my head with one hand, the gypsy uses the other to take off her shawl and give it to me. She leaves, along with the others. The musicians begin to play a slow, soft melody. I rest my head on my arms on the table and fall fast asleep.
5
––––––––
T he bright morning light forces my eyes open. It takes me a few minutes to figure out where I am. I sit up and slowly turn my head from side to side, my neck aching from having slept sitting up. The bandstand is empty, with just a few cigarette butts left lying on the ground. The flower-embroidered shawl that I slept under last night is hanging over the wooden railing, flapping in the wind.
I look out at the beach. The tide is out, revealing a stretch of endless sand. To my
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