Meeting a Fortune Teller

There are deep creases in palm of the harried hag’s hand Her wizen face is wrinkled, freckled, there is a brown spot on her cheek. She has a surreal expression; her voice is gravelly and ethereal. her tent seems mystical, with embroidered crushed velvet table cloth taro cards are next to her left hand, she lifts a palm over her hard runes there is a beautiful purple crystal ball in the center of her work table I feel her mystical powers, and my hands begin shaking like autumn leaves An energy I do not recognize begins zapping lightning bolts around the room The hag smiles, there is no fear in her, I can see this is her normal.