Flash Fiction Friday: The Fortuneteller

What’s up, everybody.  I’m back with another Flash Fiction Friday piece.  This week’s piece is inspired by something I saw Wednesday night as I was scrolling my social media feeds:


How great of a writing quote is that? The quote is two sentences longer, but the meat of it in those three is going to be my new mantra.  Maybe it’ll be yours.

But yes, the part that got to me was that he wrote to “explore all the things that I’m afraid of.”

So, here’s an experimental piece about something I am, at times, afraid of: my anxiety.

At 500 words, here is…

The Fortuneteller

You’re going to fail.  You already are a failure, anyway, just by being here.  So why don’t you give up already and let the world win? Let me win for once?

You and I have been fighting for quite sometime now.  We’ve fought each other your entire life.  I’ve always been there for you, but you never listen to me.  You never, ever listen.  You don’t listen to me when I tell you the throne would be yours if you would just do what I said.  But you don’t.  You defer to your husband.  You’re the queen that isn’t the queen.  You’re the queen that is on his throne — the throne that he’s just sharing to make you look good.

You’re everything without him, and nothing with him.

You’ve told the maid to prepare a bath, but I know what you’re going to do after.  You’re going to go to your bed and wallow there.  Like you always do.  Like you always have until he made you sit up and kiss him and say, “Yes, I’ll marry you, Kharo.”

Good.  Habits are safe.  Habits are predictable.

They’re what also make you a failure in everyone’s eyes.

They won’t say it now, but one day, they will.  They’ll tell you everything without even having to tell it.  They’ll tell you about the balls and galas they attended, how you seemed so distant and cold.  How you’d always retreat into a sea of nobles.

Baths, oceans, tears… The water is your best friend, isn’t it?

The maid comes back.  The bath is ready.  She escorts you there.  She leaves you alone.

You dip your toe.  Your foot, into the warm, clear depths.  And you know, as well as I know, how the maid knows everything about you.  Your insecurities.  Your doubts your fears.   Everyone knows everything about you.  They know that you were once a common wench.  They know that Kharo made a mistake.

They know it’s your fault the kingdom is in disrepair.

So why don’t you do something about it? Why won’t you listen to me? You keep taking bath after bath, but you refuse to listen to me and to take yourself seriously.  Like everyone else does.

Yes.  I see you looking at yourself on the waters surface.  The thin, blonde lock that refused to straighten no matter how many times the maids try to curl it with the crimping iron.  The twitching lips that want to kiss your reflection back.

What will you do? Will you finally listen to me? Will you submerge yourself? Will you finally see that nothing you can do can’t change anything? That you can’t do anything, because you won’t do anything, because you can’t do anything, because you won’t do anything, because you…

No? You don’t want to do it? You won’t do it? You’re just going to ride out the rest of the future ignorant to the rest of everyone else?

Fine.  But don’t say I never warned you.

Do not ever.


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