Lori and the Fortune Teller

Today you look in your pantry and find mostly condiments and seasoning and that you’re low on actual main courses, which means you have to head over to the Ham Panther to pick something up, though you’re not sure what.
You hop on your bike as usual and arrive at the stale-looking grocery store, wishing you didn’t have to be there.
Weaving through the aisles aimlessly, you eventually stand pondering whether to buy the chicken or the beef flavored ramen when Lori happens to enter the same aisle as you.
She smiles as she sees you and walks up to you.

Lori: Ah, the feast of kings.
	It’s one of my favorite foods, actually.
Lori: Oh yeah, mine too. Especially if you add extra seasoning and veggies, that’s SO good.
	Yeah, it’s great. You wouldn’t think something as cheap as a pack of chewing gum would be that satisfying.
Lori: Oh man, now I’m getting hungry. For ramen, thanks to you.
	Oops, sorry.

Lori awkwardly shuffles her feet and looks at the floor as if trying to think of something.
Lori: Hey, you wanna go to the Supernatural Lovers’ Club meeting today? I was just on my way there.
	The what?
Lori: Oh, I guess you haven’t heard of them. They’re basically everybody in town who’s into ghosts and cryptids and stuff.
	Ah, I guess that’s kinda obvious, now that you explain it.
Lori: Yeah, it’s kinda in their name, haha.
	…You say they’re… having a meeting?
Lori: Oh yeah, The Possum Springs Historical Society helps them, I guess they think it’s okay to indulge them.
‘Cause dead people are history, right?
	Haha, right.
Lori: So they hold their annual meeting in front of the Historical Society’s headquarters. You’ll love it there.
	Oh yeah?
Lori: It’s a spooky old house, called the Shreigeist House.
	Seriously? That sounds exactly like a portmanteau of “shriek” and “poltergeist”.
Lori: I know, right? Like some kind of bad goth metal band name.
It’s beautiful and it’s old and it’s creepy. I love it.
	So what do they do?
Lori: They’ve got some tents and stuff. They sell books, give out pamphlets, display their findings, that sort of thing.
Then they all get together and discuss all the cool ghost stuff they did the previous year.
	You don’t have to be a member to attend?
Lori: Nope! It’s all free.
	Okay, that sounds good, actually. Haven’t got anything else to do.
Lori: Great!
But seriously, I need to eat something fast.
	Too bad they don’t give you hot water for your ramen like they do in Nihon.
Lori: Yeah, let’s see what they’ve got in the deli section.

You quickly visit the deli and Stan gives you a cheery greeting, and grab a couple of ham and cheese sandwiches and a couple of bottles of iced tea to eat before heading out to the Shreigeist House.
You get on your bike, but then you remember that Lori is coming with you.
	Do you know how to sit in the back of one of these?
Lori eyes it nervously.
Lori: Oh gosh, I dunno. I’ve seen it in movies, but I’ve never actually tried it.
Do you have an extra helmet?
You realize that you don’t have one.
	…Maybe we’d better walk.
Lori: Th-that’s fine, sorry.
You get off the bike and walk alongside her, pushing your bike along.
Lori: Just follow me, I’ve gone there lots of times.
You travel a fairly lonely road with trees to either side, and you realize that it’s not far from the road you take every day.
	Looks like this place isn’t too far from mine!
Lori: Oh cool! Yeah, we’re headed to the part of town where the old rich people houses were all built back in the day.

Lori eventually points out the house up ahead. It’s a tall, slim house in a stark Neo-Gothic style in the middle of a field with a few ghastly-looking dead trees around it.
It definitely looks haunted.
There are signs of life, however, and a small crowd is in its front yard, moving from one tiny booth to another.
Lori: We’re here! Isn’t it cool?
I wish I could live here and stare out into the night sky as passersby see me and run away terrified.
	Your tattered silken dress flowing in the wind?
Lori: Exactly.

Your spot a bike rack near the entrance and chain yours up, as Lori excitedly jogs into the event area without waiting for you.
You hurry after her, surrounded by about a dozen or so awnings and tables filled with ghost-related miscellany.
You see books like “Ghosts of Possum Springs” and “Ghost Sightings in Bright Harbor” and exhibits of what ectoplasm may be made of, as well as handmade wooden dolls labeled “Little Joe”.
	So… what do you want to do first?
Lori: Oh man, lemme think…
Oh yeah! There’s this fortune teller that’s here every year, I’ve always wanted to see her!
	Really? They still have those?
Lori: Oh, totally. I guess it’s kind of a quaint, niche kind of thing these days, but there’s still people who do it.
I mean, most of ‘em do it over the phone nowadays, but there’s nothing quite visiting them in the flesh.
She used to have an “office”, I guess you could call it, like just past my neighborhood, but I guess she’s in semi-retirement now?
	What, she actually had a permanent place of business?
Lori: Yeah, they exist. But I guess they don’t always rake in the cash, huh?
But I think she enjoys doing it, so she’s kinda always here every year. Like, they expect her to be there.
So, you up to it?
	I guess so.
You only have to walk a couple of feet and you can see the fortune teller’s tent just ahead.
	Do you believe in this stuff?
Lori: Not really. I mean, I believe in an afterlife and all that, but most of these fortune tellers are fake. Props and special effects and all that.
	So why do you want to talk to one?
Lori: It’s fun! Knowing how they do it makes it entertaining. There’s a whole psychological element to it that I like. They also pay attention to what you’re wearing, and stuff like what food stains are on your shirt, and they’re really good at guessing your life story.
It goes way back. Like, did you know that Arthur Conan Dove was really into it? Like, he totally believed it?
	The guy who invented Sherlock Hound? Why would he believe in fortune telling?
Lori: Nobody knows! But he completely believed in ghosts and everything. Goes to show that even the smartest people can be fooled by someone just as clever.
Some people believe that some sort of supernatural being, like a ghost speaking beyond the grave or a spirit, can solve all their problems. Even someone who ought to know otherwise.
I *wish* I could call on a ghost to solve my problems.
…Sorry, I get excited about this stuff.
	No problem.
The tent is made up of fabrics of deep purple and blue, decorated with sparkling silver stars. Just next to it is a hand-painted sign, with curly, elaborate lettering that spells “Madame Spectre” with a outstretched palm underneath.
Surely that’s not her real name.
Inside the tent is an elderly vixen with gleaming green eyes- they’re in fact the first thing you see entering, as if there was a spotlight on them, and there probably was.
There must have been some sort of fancy motion-activated dimming light somewhere, because the light slowly increases and makes the fortune-teller’s face more visible.
Lori leans over and whispers in your ear.
Lori: Ooh, nice effect…
With an intense gaze befitting her occupation, the woman speaks with a creaky and low voice.
Madame Spectre: Welcome, weary travelers, and learn what you must!
It’s all a bit hokey, but you’re thankful she didn’t opt to put on a fake accent, at least.
She’s somewhat haggard with wrinkles around her eyes, but she’s strangely beautiful in her own way, if you’re into that sort of thing. You imagine that she once was the most desirable girl in her peer group.
Madame Spectre: Ah, I sense a blossoming relationship between you two, yes?
You blush involuntarily, probably giving her the answer she was looking for.
Lori: N-no, w-we’re just friends…
Madame Spectre: Call it what you will, lass, I insist that you have something special. However, that isn’t what you’re here for.
Your “friend” wonders what to expect. He is somewhat new in town, yes?
Lori whispers again.
Lori: …She probably hasn’t seen you before. Small towns are like that- everyone knows everybody.
The fortune teller raises an eyebrow.
Madame Spectre: You are skeptical, yes?
Lori giggles.
Lori: Yeah, you caught us.
Madame Spectre: Please, sit, and doubt no longer!
You obey and sit cross-legged on a pair of thick faux-velvet cushions. The scent of incense nearby reaches your nostrils.
The woman raises her hands, tipped with bright red nails, and shifts her gaze towards the crystal ball sitting on the table, shoulders held high and fingers delicately caressing the air around the sphere.
You resist giving a dismissive snort.
The fortune teller turns her eyes to yours, seeming to stare into your soul, as they say.
She’s good.
Madame Spectre: You have many questions about your new life. Where are you going? Will your friends stay with you? Will your feelings for each other change? Do you deserve your newfound happiness?
You swallow nervously.
	…You guessed right.
Madame Spectre: Madame Spectre does not guess!
Lori: Aw, I didn’t realize you felt that way. Rest assured, I’m sticking with you!
Madame Spectre: You, however, are certain of who you are and where you’re headed in life. But you are also fascinated by death and the unknown, which is why you came here.
Lori: That’s what you’re supposed to do, right? Reveal the secrets of that stuff?
Madame Spectre: Indeed.
Lori: So… are there any real ghosts in Possum Springs?
Madame Spectre: There have been many tragic and mysterious deaths in this town. Some of them have left a lingering presence.
	…That’s a little ambiguous, don’t you think?
Madame Spectre: Surely you know the lasting effects the dead can hold over the living?
	Well yeah, but…
Madame Spectre: Ah, it’s becoming clear to me now… you have experienced death in your family, have you not?
You’re starting to feel a little invaded.
	Alright, I’ll give you that much.
Madame Spectre: And it had effected you greatly.
	…That’s something you can say about anyone.
Lori: Oh don’t be mad, (player), it’s her job.
Madame Spectre: It is my duty!
You’re starting to feel a little impatient, but you don’t want to be rude, so you try to tamp down your annoyance.
Madame Spectre: Forgive my insensitivity, it was not intentional. I just tell what the crystal ball shows me.
Lori: I didn’t know someone in your family died. Who was it?
	Can we talk about it later…?
Lori: Oh, sorry, sorry!
Madame Spectre: Another time perhaps.
Lori: Okay, but, uh… you didn’t really answer my question about ghosts.
Madame Spectre: It depends on what you mean by “ghosts”.
We can say that we are “haunted” by memories of the past. Death alters our lives forever, sometimes changing one’s course completely, separating ourselves from some, reuniting others, and even crossing new paths with new people.
But obviously you’re being more literal than that.
Look around you! Everyone here believes in ghosts. They all have stories to tell of things they can’t explain, presences they’ve felt, feelings of dread and horror.
What is a ghost but the remainder of someone’s lost life? It could very well be a wandering soul departed from the mortal plane…
Or it could be an image of the energies of our bodies reflected off the mirrors of the physical realm, embedded in the walls, and in the bricks, and in the trees.
Lori seems enraptured.
Madame Spectre: Either way, we find ourselves striving to understand them.
	…But do we have anything like that here in Possum Springs?
Madame Spectre: Of course.
Her lids lower, almost shutting, her vision seeming to become unfocused.
Madame Spectre: The whole town in engulfed by the presence of death. Perhaps not individuals, but it holds a power over everyone.
Lori: Damn.
Madame Spectre: But it needn’t be this way. There have been too many sacrifices made.
	Sacrifices?
She seems to stare into space.
Madame Spectre: The poor needn’t die to feed the rich! The dead have no money.
	…What?
Madame Spectre: The entrance is closed now, it cannot be fed any longer.
You’re starting to feel uncomfortable, especially now that her head is loosely rolling around her shoulders.
Madame Spectre: …The cycle has ended.
Lori stares at her, enchanted. The fortune teller blinks and straightens herself.
Madame Spectre: …Mmmgh… I’m sorry, I was receiving feedback from the vibrations of this place, and I became it’s mouthpiece.
	…So you’re done?
Madame Spectre: Yes, I’m finished. I’m sorry you don’t believe me.
That will be five dollars.
You grumble quietly to yourself, and almost reach for your wallet, but Lori gestures to you and pulls out a bill instead.
Lori: Thank you, that was very, very interesting!
Madame Spectre: Did I at least give you food for thought?
Lori: Yes, yes you did. Thank you.
	Sorry if I seem grouchy, I was just caught off guard.
You both stand up and exit the tent.

As you walk away, you’re both silent for a moment.
	…I gotta say, that was some display.
Lori: Aw, don’t be so disappointed, she just made educated guesses about your family.
	…I wish you had heard that from me first.
Lori: Sorry, sorry, I never thought…
…Well you weren’t exactly being super nice!
	Yeah, that’s my fault, sorry.
Lori: Do you want to talk about it…?
You think for a bit.
	Might as well, I guess.
	It was my dad. He died a few years ago.
Lori: Oh crap, sorry.
	No, it’s okay, really. I barely knew him. He actually left me the house.
Lori: That’s actually kinda cool.
	Yeah.
Lori: I know how it is. My mom died when I was younger. Do you miss him at all?
	Hmm. Not really. Weirdly enough.
Lori: Why not?
	I barely knew anything about him. It’s hard to grieve somebody you almost never met.
Lori: Yeah, I guess that makes sense. Sorta sad, though.
	Sad how?
Lori: It’s sort of sad, in a weird way, that his death didn’t make *you* sad.
	I dunno, in a bizarre way, I’m lucky? Nobody in my life who’s died is somebody I’ll ever miss.
Lori: That’s somehow both a bummer and a blessing.
	Do you ever miss your mom?
Lori: Totally. She was always supportive of me wanting to make movies, and never complained about all the dark stuff I’m into.
	I envy you. We should all have parents who accept you.
Lori: Oh crap, don’t tell me your mom didn’t…
	No. I’m glad I got away from her.
Lori: Ouch. Sorry I brought it up.
You decide to change the subject.
	So what was all that about death being all over town?
Lori: No idea, really.
It’s like… it’s like…
…Things’ll be fine. There’s gonna be new jobs, better pay.
The younger generation won’t have to support the greed of old fogies.
	What? How do you know?
Lori: …Huh? Oh, I dunno. Just a feeling, I guess.
And I get the feeling you won’t lose your friends, either.
	…Do you think so?
	What about us? Was she right at all?
Her eyelids lower and she smiles softly, and reaches out to hold your hand.
With that answer you smile back, and you both walk to the next booth to see what else the meeting has to offer.