She needed to get home. Not only did she now need to use the bathroom, but she wanted to go back to sleep. She was completely exhausted. The first customer in line purchased a pack of cigarettes and left quickly. The woman in front of her pulled out several slips of lottery forms. Oh, no. Memphis knew that she would take forever to choose her numbers.
“Excuse me, do you mind if I just pay for this water?”
Memphis no longer wanted the cigarettes. All she wanted was another nap. Man, what was with her? She’d been sleeping like a…like a pregnant woman. Oh, no way. She was not pregnant with Jonathan’s baby. There was no way. The universe didn’t hate her that much. She gave a homeless person a dollar whenever she could; that had to be good for something. She felt sudden pressure in her temples and a wave of panic washed over her. Then, as quickly as it came, it went away. She knew that she was not pregnant. She also knew that the winning numbers of tonight’s lottery drawing were two, seven, forty-five, thirty-two, nineteen, and eight.
“Ma’am?”
The woman ignored her.
“Ma’am,” she repeated at a higher volume. She placed her hand on the woman’s shoulder.
“Hey!” the woman exclaimed. She turned to look at Memphis, ready for a fight. She was about to yell at her, but she must have seen something in Memphis’s eyes that stopped her. She was younger than Memphis thought. She looked tired and sad.
“Miss,” she corrected herself. “I know tonight’s winning numbers. Let me just purchase these bottles of water and I will give them to you.”
The woman continued to stare at her, but she nodded her head.
Memphis reached past her and paid the cashier. She waved her hand when he silently offered her a bag, and then she turned her gaze back to the woman. She repeated the winning numbers to her, wished her luck, and floated out of the store.
It was ten o’clock when Memphis awoke from her second nap of the day. Gemma was knocking on her door.
Are you all right, love?” she inquired. She must have thought Memphis slept the whole day. “Are you sick? I saw you drank the coffee and cleaned up. Thanks for that. Would you like a cup of tea?”
The great thing about having a British roomy was that she made an excellent cup of tea.
“Sure,” Memphis responded sleepily.
She followed Gemma into the kitchen. Thankfully, the living room lamp was the only source of light in the apartment. She didn’t think she could take the harsh, bright fluorescent lighting in their post-war kitchenette.
“So, how was your day?” That must have been British for, “Surely you didn’t sleep the entire day. You had to be so busy running errands that you must have tuckered yourself out and decided to have a nap.” Gemma placed a small cup in front of her and deftly filled it will hot, brown liquid.
“Interesting,” Memphis replied. “I went to see a therapist.”
“Yes, of course you did—to treat your depression. Your breakup with Jonathan has left you feeling a greater sense of loss than you thought. This may also be tied to the fact that you don’t know who your real parents are and you were never legally adopted.”
Gemma took the same freshman psychology class and decided to make a career of it. She was pursuing her masters in cognitive therapy. She constantly treated Memphis as her in-house patient. So far, she’d been labeled as a narcissistic, co-dependent alcoholic with trust issues, and diagnosed with adult attention deficit disorder. Now she was also suffering from depression. There must be truth serum in the tea, because ordinarily Memphis would have not shared the fact that she went to any type of therapy—even physical—with Gemma.
“Um, well, sort of. I went to a hypnotherapist. Jill suggested it, to help me quit smoking. It was quite an experience. I don’t remember much, but I haven’t had a craving for a cigarette all day.” Of course she’d been sleeping most of the day, but Gemma didn’t need to know that.
“That’s brilliant! I and the upholstery are grateful! So you don’t remember anything from the session?” She bit into a digestive biscuit.
“No, I don’t. I just remember meeting Dr. Thompson and lying down blindfolded. Then I was suddenly outside of the office building. I think I might have said good-bye to the receptionist, but the doctor wasn’t there when I came out from under her trance.”
“You wore a blindfold? Now that’s strange. Hypnotherapy doesn’t usually require a blindfold; it affects the feeling of trust between the patient and the therapist.”
“That’s what I thought, but I did go down rather quickly, and it worked. I guess the end justifies the means.” She shrugged off her own suspicions.
“Well, it was lovely chatting, but I have to be off to meet a new suitor.” She gathered her service items and placed them in the sink.
“What happened to the one from last night?” Memphis inquired and took another sip of tea.
“Oh, nothing happened to him, but it’s always good to have options.” She winked. She grabbed her coat and scarf, kissed Memphis on the top of the head, and left her feeling young and boring. She also had more dishes to wash.
She decided to change the location of her loafing to the living room sofa, just to shake things up a bit. The television was still on the Public Broadcasting Network. Gemma never watched television; at least not at their apartment since she was hardly ever home.
Memphis grabbed her phone and texted Jill to tell her she was right. “The hypnosis worked after one session. The doctor was a bit strange and I couldn’t really understand her through her accent, but it still worked.”
“Hey! We have the same accent and you can understand me perfectly, unless you’ve been pretending all these years.” Jill was so funny. Her Texan drawl sounded nothing like Dr. Thompson’s musical lilt.
She replied, “LOL.”
The Universe Now was on again. The bespectacled host was in the middle of another discussion on birth charts and how the Moon affected people.
“The Moon enters a different sign about every 2.5 days, so tracking these changes is one of the best ways I know to understand the energies of the signs and how they work for you personally. The Moon is the archetypal symbol of our emotional body, our self-image, what we need, and where we feel security. In one month, we go through every possible emotion, sometimes withdrawing to reflect upon what our emotions are telling us, and sometimes projecting those emotions outwards.”
He continued to explain that the multi-lunar complexes were very different from Earth’s one moon, Mars’s two, and Pluto’s three; he was discussing the effects of a newly discovered planet. It was discovered by one of Jonathan’s old classmates. Memphis was impressed. The show wasn’t just about horoscopes.
“It’s conceivable that their lunar effects are different, possibly stronger, in relation to the Sun, since the Sun is distant and visually smaller than many of those moons. Looking at the gas giants Jupiter and Saturn, might their moons’ numbers and comparatively tiny size make their effects less consequential than our relatively larger and single Moon? For an example of a lunar cycle different than ours and similar to our Stellaluna example—except the moons are different sizes—Charon, Pluto’s principal moon, is much larger than our moon is, relative to Pluto. Also similar to Stellaluna, with the Sun being very faint, Charon could have a stronger lunar effect than our moon. Charon has a very long lunar cycle,” he explained.
“The outer planets are very important when it comes to looking at a person’s chart.” He began to draw on a portable chalkboard. He drew several circles and divided them into thirds. “Water signs indicate psychic ability.” He created a list of the chart’s angles and the planets occupying the water signs. “Cancer in the fourth house, Scorpio in the eighth house, and Pisces in the twelfth; these signs and houses all deal with deep psychological levels of a person’s personality.
“If the water signs don’t dominate the chart, then the planets will be in the water houses. The eighth house rules all occult matters and the twelfth rules the subliminal. But
having prominent water signs or houses is not enough to assume extraordinary psychic or intuitive talents exist. What matters is the natural planetary rulers of the water signs; if they encompass most of the chart, they show more psychic awareness and intuitive ability than just the water signs.”
He created another list titled “The Natural Planetary Rulers.” “Neptune unveils what is hidden; it rules Pisces and the twelfth house. It’s connected to seeing beyond the material world. It rules the imagination and stimulates a tendency toward fantasy and daydreaming.”
He turned to face the camera. His blue eyes were piercing, and Memphis shivered. For some strange reason it felt as if he were looking directly at her.
“If you have Neptune in your twelfth house you may show the ability to clearly visualize events with great detail. Now, if it’s linked to the Moon in your chart, it shows a special capacity to transcend normal limitations. Because the Moon is a personal planet and rules the senses when it is attached to Neptune, the visions receive emotional magnification, giving them the strength to leave the material world and enter another plane. The visions are elevated and become the material world’s future. What is at first a part of the imagination becomes reality with this mental projection power. Some people experience this only during their childhood, but for others it remains dormant until activated. Some people believe that psychic abilities can be activated or enhanced through the study and practice of meditation and hypnosis.”
Hypnosis? So it wasn’t just for weight loss and smoking. Memphis bit her bottom lip; this was quite a coincidence.
“The next planet is Pluto. It probes and rules Scorpio and the eighth house. It goes below the surface and gives you the understanding of powerful thoughts. Thoughts are actually tangible. If practiced often, one can construct a thought and make it come into being, overcoming the laws of the material world and entering the surface, changing the working machine.”
Memphis had been watching for a few minutes when it hit her: he was completely spot on when it came to Jonathan’s reading! She tried to recall what he said about the actor with the same birth date. He had a great deal of secrets—another side to his personality. Well, that was an understatement. Jonathan was leading a completely different life from the one he created so carefully on his public calendar. She took more of an interest in the show. She listened intently to the host, Virgil. She repeated his name softly as she grabbed a pad and pen from the end table beside the sofa.
On Gemma’s Hello Kitty stationery pad, she began to take notes on how to complete your own birth chart. This time she would do one on herself. With her birthday falling on December 12, she was a “fire sign.” Memphis wrote the letters smaller than usual. She wished she had invisible ink. It was almost embarrassing writing down terms such as love sign compatibility and zodiac color, but after the incident with Jonathan, she needed all the information she could get to avoid pushing another lover out of the closet. As the show ended, Virgil supplied the audience with his e-mail address for inquires and personal chart readings. She probably couldn’t afford him; she would have to go this alone. She just needed her birth time to begin.
She turned off the television as the credits rolled. She went to her room and took out a box from under her bed. It was made of cherry wood and had the letter “M” inscribed in ivory. It was the only thing besides her looks that she could confidently say her parents gave her. She opened the gold latch and took out a necklace, a stack of papers, and a rock. She sighed; her legacy was a rock.
She started sifting through the papers for her birth certificate when she realized that the one she had wouldn’t be accurate. They never found her parents, so they never knew her actual place of birth. The certificate that they found with her just had her name and birth date. What a strange thing to leave with a six-year-old. But then again, who would abandon a child in the first place? Her race nor her nationality was listed on her birth certificate. People often assumed she was Hispanic because of her long, curly hair and olive skin, but she didn’t speak Spanish. She had a bit of an accent until her foster mother steadily slapped her round vowels off her tongue.
Only in college, when a professor offered to complete DNA testing for her, did she discover that she was actually black. She never based her identity on her race, but her boyfriend at the time did; he enjoyed telling racist jokes whenever he drank too much. They broke up shortly after she received her test results.
She never really looked through the stack of papers that lay in the box. The last time she opened this box was right after her eighteenth birthday. Strangely, her foster parents were instructed to give her the box once she became an adult; it was her first and last Christmas gift from them. She hoped to find pictures or clues as to who her parents were and who she was, but instead she was greeted with these papers, a necklace with a creepy eye as a charm, and a rock. She’d gathered up her disappointment and the objects and returned them to their container. From that moment on, she was determined to create her own identity. She wouldn’t sit around and wait for someone to give her a piece of paper telling her who she was.
Looking through the stack of papers, she noticed that a few of them had drawings and symbols that she hadn’t noticed before; her memory was clouded by teen angst. They were actually very good. The style resembled ancient drawings found in Egyptian pyramids. She wondered if they were hieroglyphics. She placed them to the side; she would review them later. She was getting tired again and wanted to find her birth certificate to see if it had information to help her create her birth chart. Just as she thought of the word “chart,” a folded sheet of paper fell out of the pile. It wasn’t actually paper; it was more like papyrus. The grainy texture felt scratchy against her fingertips as she opened it. She glanced at the clock; it was a quarter to midnight. Yup, it was officially the strangest day of her life.
The folded sheet of paper was a natal chart. On the corner was her name written in calligraphy; unfortunately, her surname was smudged. This chart seemed a bit more intricate and colorful than Virgil’s normal nodes and cusps. There were animal caricatures and even hieroglyphics. She would need professional assistance to decode this, but she may learn something about her roots from this sheet. Who created a natal chart for a newborn? What a strange gift; maybe her parents didn’t have a baby shower registry.
She wanted to kick herself for waiting so long to look in the box again. Maybe she hadn’t been ready to find out the truth. Well, now she was. She went to her desk and turned on her laptop. She tried to find out more information about her chart, but none of the charts on the websites resembled the intricate details on hers. She decided to e-mail Virgil and request his services. He probably would never get back to her, but at least she would try.
She sent the e-mail, then yawned and turned off her computer. She looked at the time; it was already well into the next day. She got under her sheets. Hopefully today everything would return to normal. No more random and unusual events, she thought as she closed her eyes.
Chapter 6
Memphis woke up before her alarm went off. She felt great. She just needed a day of napping. She grabbed her running shoes; she would attempt another go at the park. She stepped into the sunshine. The Gods smiled at her newly regained strength. She ran three laps around the park and decided to run back to her apartment.
Just a few more blocks and then I’ll come back around, she thought as she passed the entrance to her apartment building. She lived by Central Park but never ran or walked over there. Hitting two parks in one day would definitely be a good beginning to this new health kick of hers. She ran down 85 Street, then onto Museum Mile. She cut through a parade of dog walkers and ran into the park. She felt free and weightless—as light as a feather.
“Light as a feather, light as a feather, light as a feather,” she chanted to herself between deep, even breaths.
She looked up at the trees, not paying attention to the other runners on the path and not caring about the glare from the sun. The tree
s were brightly colored, paying homage to autumn. Though it was the end of October, the leaves hadn’t begun to fall yet. The wind blew and she noticed one leaf beginning to fall, separating from the others. It was its time.
She stopped and walked toward the falling foliage. She felt bad that it had to go on this journey alone. She could empathize. She’d had to do it all her life. She walked faster; she wanted to be there when it reached the ground, to keep it company before she would have to leave. The descent was slow and graceful. Memphis wished she could go through life with such grace. She continued to watch the leaf’s dance. She wished she could join it, to be as light as the leaf.
“Light as a leaf, light as a leaf. Let us meet,” she chanted.
She kept her gaze on the golden flake. She was so entranced that she didn’t notice she was no longer walking, but floating toward the leaf. She met it midair and kept it at eye level, and together they fell.
She was floating. The leaf wouldn’t be alone; they would do this together.
“Mommy!” She heard a child’s voice. “Look at the lady!” the child called out.
Memphis broke her trance to look behind her—or rather, below her—to see a little girl pointing in the air. She was pointing at her—she was in the air! Her stomach flipped and she felt as if she weighed a ton.
“Heavy,” she whispered.
And with that, she fell to the ground.
“Oof!” She let out a gust of air. She was concentrating on the pain in her derriere when she suddenly noticed the little girl in front of her.
Written in the Sky* Rise of the Wadjet Witch Page 4
