He locked his silver bicycle to a lamp post across the street from The Woo Woo Store on the corner of Main Street and Ravenstone Way. It was the local “metaphysical” shop, specialising in incense, crystals and other nonsensical gewgaws. But, according to its out-of-date website, the shop also carried books on “supernatural phenomena” and, in particular, “local myths and legends”.
The door chimes tinkled as Milo entered the store, the scent of sage overwhelming his senses.
“Welcome,” said a serene female voice.
Milo stepped round a rotating display of dreamcatchers and spotted a rosy-cheeked woman with curly unnaturally red hair. She was threading a beaded necklace behind a glass counter filled with fairy figurines. Her blue-velvet dress wouldn’t have looked out of place in the Renaissance.
Milo smirked at the crystal ball by the cash register. His late mother had had a deep appreciation for mystics, auras and the like, much to his father’s chagrin. Milo wasn’t really one to be taken in by any of this stuff. Still, he remembered that his mother had found it comforting when she was sick.
“Hi, I’m loo—” Milo tripped over a heavy gnome statue.
“Are you here for a tarot or astrological reading?” asked the woman.
More like astro-illogical. “Uh, no, I was looking for something specific.”
She smiled coyly, taking in Milo’s khaki trousers and tucked-in sweater. “In the market for a love potion, perhaps?”
His cheeks reddened. “I’m looking for a book, actually. On legends from the Big Crater Valley.”
She raised a hand to her temple, her bracelets tinkling, as if she were divining his thoughts from the ether. “I know just what you need.”
Because I just told you?
The woman sashayed out from behind the counter and led him to a haphazardly organised bookshelf at the back of the shop. Running her ring-adorned fingers over the spines, she pulled out a well-read volume and handed it to Milo.
“Sticky Secrets by P. J. Barry,” he read. “Is there anything about monsters in here?”
“Monsters?” she said, alarmed.
“My, uh, friend thinks she saw something weird in Black Hole Lake.” Milo rolled his eyes to show that he, of course, would never consider such nonsense.
“I see.” Lips pursed, the woman located a book titled North American Cryptozoology.
Lucy’s obsession. Great. Milo deflated.
He followed her to the cash register and paid for the two books, which she put into a paper bag adorned with stars.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t like a reading?” She gestured to a sign on the wall behind her: “Marietta Corbin, Fortune Teller. $10 for 10 minutes. CASH ONLY”. “You look like you could use some insight.”
“Oh, no,” he laughed. “I mean, no offence, but none of this stuff is real, is it?”
“Everything is real,” Ms Corbin replied, “though perhaps not in the way you think it is.” She leaned in. “You know,” she pressed, “some people do it just for fun.”
Fun? Milo couldn’t remember the last time he’d had any. He glanced around. Nobody else was in the shop. “Yeah, okay,” he acquiesced. “Why not?”
He followed her to a table covered in a black-lace cloth. Ms Corbin handed him a deck of cards, the backs of which featured strange glyphs made of shapes, swirls and dots.
“What do these symbols mean?” Milo asked while she shuffled.
“I made all these cards myself,” Ms Corbin replied. “The symbols are just a Sticky Pines thing.” She took the deck and dealt three cards face up on the table. “Intriguing,” she mused.
The first card showed a picture of two rabbits standing on either side of a river. The second was a half-shaded moon with a smiling face. The third depicted a pyramid being demolished by a bolt of lightning, golden bricks tumbling down its sides.
Milo balked.
“That’s not a bad card necessarily,” Ms Corbin assured him.
Not necessarily?
She studied the spread, her fingers hovering over the images. Finally, she spoke. “You will soon learn that nothing is what it seems. Relationships, old and new, will be tested. What once was hidden will be revealed.” She gripped Milo’s hand. “You are in for a big shift in perspective, young man. Your world will be forever altered. Some degree of destruction is necessary.” Her gaze intensified. “You must learn who to trust. Your choices will determine who you are to become. Change is coming, whether you’re ready or not.” Then she released him.
Milo picked up the pyramid card and examined it, horrified. I thought this was supposed to be fun?
“That will be ten dollars,” said Ms Corbin sweetly.
He handed her a ten-dollar bill and quickly gathered his things and headed for the door. “That was…” He tripped on the gnome statue again. “Thanks.”
“It was nice to meet you, Milo Fisher,” she called after him.
“Yeah, you too,” he replied, even though it hadn’t been.
He opened the front door and ran smack into a not-so-little old lady.
“The Other Mrs Stricks,” he gasped.
The older woman towered over him, her wild grey hair sticking out from under her beret. She and her wife (the school English teacher) had been among those who had disappeared during that unfortunate Nucralose-related business.
“Watch your way, boy.” The Other Mrs Stricks straightened her pink woolly shawl. “You never know what’s round the bend, do you?”
“Yes, ma’am,” said Milo. “I mean, no, ma’am. Sorry, ma’am.” He stepped aside and let her enter the store, the door closing behind her with a jingle.
Milo looked down at his hand and realised he was still holding that awful pyramid card. Well, I’m definitely not going back in there. Pocketing the item, he raced to his bike, jiggled the lock open, then hopped on and headed home. It wasn’t until he was halfway down Main Street that he realised something that made him stop pedalling: he’d never introduced himself to Marietta Corbin.
So how did she know my name?
Ghosts in the Machines
“What do you know about
