I didn’t ask for this life; no one does. Holding knowledge of the future in my mind is a responsibility I bare heavily. It’s been a burden on my life and a curse, but a gift all the same.

It began when I was no more than 6 years old. I was a scrawny child, draped in dirty, raggedy clothes. They were the best my mother, a nomadic drifter with no family nor money, could do. I spent my days frolicking through the forest, playing pretend and gathering any eatable plants I could find. As I went about my day, I’d become entranced by a scene yet to occur. It barely felt different than other games of pretend, until the prediction came to be. I dismissed it as coincidence for as long as I could, but soon it became clear that I had an very unusual gift.

The moment I knew it for certain was when I was 14. My mother and I had just taken a long hike to reach a field of wild blueberries to forage. As we reached the near end of our journey, and the blueberry bushes were finally in our sights, a vision struck me. In it, I saw my mother fall to her knees. I saw her face pale and weak, dripping in sweat. I saw her gasping weakly for air, her lips as blue as the very berries we sought. And with one last exhale, her frail body collapsed. When the vision ended, I stopped in my tracks. My mother, who had passed a few yards ahead of me turned back in blissful curiosity, but once she saw the grim look on my face, her demeanor quickly shifted to match my own. She rushed over to hug me and whispered in a shaky voice “do not worry, my love. All will be ok” as if to reassure me and herself at the same time. I gripped her back tightly, and said with a smiled upon releasing her, “those blueberries aren’t going to eat themselves.” She returned the smile, held my hand, and we proceeded to pick blueberries until sundown. It was one of the greatest days we ever spent together. And just 3 months later, my vision came to fruition, and my mother passed away in my arms from an unknown ailment.

The pain and sadness of her loss was great, but worse was my anger and resentment over the curse I now knew was as real as her lifeless body. I feared I would have no way to remove it, but perhaps I could control it. I sought out help to harness this ability so I controlled it rather than it controlling me.

Over the next few months I found myself aimlessly wandering far and wide. I drowned my misery in liquor I stole, hoping to cloud out any visions, but they persisted nonetheless. One particular vision was quite vidid. In it, I saw luscious, red cloth draped around a rather mystical scene. Though blurry, I could make out the image of a women in the center of this tent, seated crosslegged with a large crown of twigs and feathers on her head and a black lace veil that flowed from the top of her head to the floor, shrouding her naked body. She gazed intensely at an orb in her hands. But suddenly she looked straight ahead, as if just noticing my presence. Then she reached out her arm, extending her hand to me and said in a deep, coarse voice, “I have the answers you seek, my dear.”

Though this vision gave me no clue to her location, I knew this woman, this fortune teller, could grant me the peace I so deeply desired. So I set my path and ventured forth to find the tent of the fortune teller.