1.3 – Player 4 – LaWanda


She knew with certainty that dark times were coming.

It kept her distracted from her work. The woman, a plump red head in a horrible eighties suit looked at her. “LaWanda?” Paulette DeMorrisey leaned forward. She had paid sixty bucks for a half hour reading. “Are you okay?”

LaWanda shook her head. Shit, what the fuck was wrong with her? Unlike others, she did have feelings and jives about certain things. She was good at the tarot deck, accurate enough to be eerie. She could sense people’s emotions and knew when someone was lying to her. LaWanda always put salt around the doors and windows of her apartment and smudged it for good measure. It normally kept the evil out.

Now she could sense it wanting to come in. “I’m sorry,” she said. LaWanda was surprised by the tremor in her voice. Normally when she opened herself up, she would sense another person very easily. Paulette was easy, too. She was a regular, came almost every week.

When she had opened herself up this time, however, all she had seen was darkness. “I’m sorry,” she said again. “I don’t feel at all well, all of a sudden? Next two readings on the house?”

Paulette nodded and LaWanda was touched by the genuine concern she saw in the other woman’s eyes. “You just get yourself some rest. I hear there’s a nasty flu bug going around.”

LaWanda took Paulette’s hand in hers. “Thank you.”

She reminded herself to smile as she saw Paulette out, but she almost pushed her through the exit. A mantra ran through her head. Get out, get out, while theres still time. Get out, get out.

LaWanda didn’t know if this was meant of her or for Paulette, but protectiveness ran through her. She needed to get her client out the door. LaWanda knew that much. Thanking Paulette again, she closed the door firmly behind her.

Fuck, she needed a cigarette.

She went into her small kitchen and took a pack of cigarettes from the door. With a shaking hand, she lit the match. The sulphur was acrid in the air and reminded her of brimstone. Touching the tip of the match against the cigarette, LaWanda took a grateful puff of smoke into her lungs. She released it.

“Fuck.” She said. Her voice sounded loud in her kitchen. Flicking a bit of ash into the sink, she went to the small kitchen window and looked outside. She had a lovely view of the street. She often stood at the window and watched people coming and going.

She knew that danger lay out there-and that it would be coming here.

What part she played in it, she didn’t know. However, the darkness would come in time. Taking another drag off her cigarette, she flicked more ash into the sink and went to the cupboards.  Opening one of her upper cabinets, she took out a box of salt. She flicked open the lid and threw her cigarette into the sink, letting water run on it for a moment. Shaking the box, LaWanda nodded. It would be enough.

She didn’t know when the darkness was coming, only that it would come soon. It was best to take the precautionary safe guards. She would run salt over the barrier of the front door. Then she would do the doors and windows of her apartment. Some smudge stick wouldn’t hurt either.

If darkness was coming, LaWanda thought, it was best to be prepared for it. Looking up into her cabinet, she saw what she was looking for right away. Putting down the salt, she took down a bottle of vodka.

She would have need of it later.




About Jamieson Wolf

Jamieson an award winning, number-one bestselling author. He writes in many different genres. Learn more at www.jamiesonwolf.com
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