Elsie and the Fortune Teller
  by
                      Lora Craig-Gaddis

  Note:  This story is intended to be printed out and read to children.  
The illustrations are line drawings for kids to color in themselves. 

Elsie was on her knees in the dirt, bent over the carrot patch.  She carefully dug around one of the bundles of feathery leaves and lifted out the root. She added it to the growing pile of carrots in her basket.

Suddenly with a WHOMP something heavy landed on her back almost knocking her flat!  She dropped her trowel and caught herself quickly against the ground with the palm of her hands.  A little black face peered over her shoulder and long whiskers tickled her cheek.

“Watcha doing?”

“Blessed Be, Pooka!” the witch cried.  “Will you cut that out?” but the cat just purred a chuckle and kneaded her back with his paws.

“You seem jumpy. Need a message?”

Elsie rolled her eyes.  “No, I ….OUCH!  Watch the claws!”

Pooka leaped off her back, instantly contrite.  “Sorry,” he mumbled.  “I forgot.”  He rubbed against her in apology.  Then his head swiveled around as he heard the garden gate open.  “It’s Nathan!”  

For a moment, he completely forgot one of the cardinal rules: that a well-behaved cat always waits for the human to approach HIM.  Pooka galloped gleefully towards the dark haired boy and threw himself against his legs.

There was a loud caw from overhead as Elsie’s big black crow dropped from the sky and landed on the boy’s shoulder.  Nathan was unfazed.  He adored Edgar and the feeling was mutual.

“Hey, Elsie!”  He plopped down next to her and set a covered dish on the ground.  “My grandmother sent you some of her corn chowder.  She hopes you’re feeling better.”

“I’m fine. It was just a cold.” She flashed him a smile and added, “I’ll still enjoy the chowder though!  Thank her for me?”

Nathan shrugged his shoulders and Edgar squawked in protest.  “Sure,” said Nathan.  “No problem.  I’m glad you’re better though.  The village will be glad to see you back too.”

  It was an innocent enough statement, but something in Nathan’s voice made Elsie give him a sharp look.   “Is everything okay in the village?” she asked.  Pooka sat and wrapped his tail around his body, listening closely.

He shrugged again.  “Well, sort of.” 

This was too much shrugging for Edgar.  He launched himself off the boy’s shoulder, glided over to a nearby apple tree and began poking among the fallen fruit.

“Sorry, Edgar,” laughed Nathan.  The crow just gave him a dirty look.

Nathan pulled one of the carrots out of the ground, brushed it off and began chewing on it.  Pooka and Elsie waited. Finally Nathan spoke again:  “There’s this girl that’s set up a tent on Market Night.  She gives folks tarot readings and has this crystal ball and says she’s a witch.” 

Elsie cocked her head to one side and looked at him quizzically.  “So what’s the problem?” she asked.

The boy shook his head.  “Elsie, this girl’s not a witch!”

“How do you…”

 “Listen,” he said.  “You’re a witch and she’s nothing like you!  For one thing, she only tells people bad stuff.”

Elsie’s eyebrows shot up.  “Oh?”  Then she frowned.  “My stars!  That’s not good.”

“She’s scaring people and causing trouble!” the boy exclaimed.  “Elsie, you need to do something!”  

The next Market Day, Elsie settled her hat on her head, her basket over her arm, and headed for the Village.  Pooka trotted alongside.

“What are you going to do?” he asked eagerly.  “Turn her into a frog?”

“Don’t be silly!” snorted the witch.

“Are you going to make her break out in spots?”

“Of course not!”

“Are you going to punch her in the nose?”

Elsie stopped in her tracks.  “Pooka!”

He hung his head.  “Just asking.”

She resumed walking and he resumed trotting alongside.

“So what ARE you going to do?”

“I’m going to get my fortune told,” she smiled.

  The tent was easy to spot, even through fruit and vegetable stands, past the flower lady’s cart, the fishmonger and the woman selling handmade quilts.  It’s deep purple canvas sides and top were covered with silver stars and moons.  Just outside, a brass incense burner on a tall tripod poured forth billows of smoke and a large sign painted in red showed a hand, some astrology symbols and the words “Psychic Readings”.

When they entered, it took their eyes a few minutes to adjust after the bright fall sunlight outside. Through a haze of incense smoke, dozens of candles flickered, reflecting dancing images on rows and piles of books.  Charts covered the walls – astrology charts, palmistry charts, charts on herbs and numerology, charts of runes and moons and constellation charts.  They were everywhere!

In the center of the room was a draped table holding more books and candles.  In the center was a large crystal ball flanked on one side by a deck of cards and, on the other, some sort of skull.

“Oooh!  Spooky!” grinned the cat.

“Hush!” the witch told him.

From behind a curtain, a thin, pale girl with a vague, ethereal expression emerged.  A crescent moon and star diadem encircled her head and the long, blond hair that streamed down her back. Long, crystal earrings dangled like Christmas trees down to her shoulders.  She wore a flowing white tunic covered with a velvet blue cloak with many pockets.  Around her waist were chains and cords holding charms and talismans.  Thick strands of amber beads, shiny medallions and heavy amulets wreathed her slim neck.  Pooka wondered how she managed to hold her head up.

“I am the Lady Esmerelda, witch and seer!” she announced.   She waved a hand that had rings stacked along each finger and gestured in the direction of the table. 

There were two chairs.  Elsie sat in one and Esmerelda floated toward the other.  In doing so, she accidentally stepped on Pooka’s tail.  “Ouch!” he yelled.  Esmerelda glanced down.  “Oh, what a cute little dog,” she murmured.

Elsie and Pooka just looked at each other in astonishment!

But now Esmerelda was shuffling the deck of tarot cards.  Elsie thought this was strange. Usually the person getting the reading shuffles the deck – but far be it from her to tell another psychic how to do her business.  She waited in silence.

Finally Esmerelda laid down a card.  She leaned close to the table and studied it intently.  After a few moments, she raised her head and said: “The five of clubs and it is reversed!  This is very bad.  Wait one moment while I consult my resources.  We must be very sure of having an exact interpretation.”  The girl reached down and pulled up a book.  She took quite a while thumbing through it and finding the exact page she was looking for.  She took even longer to read it.  Then she set it aside and picked up another book.  The procedure was the same.  Finally she pronounced, “Just as I thought!  You work very hard, but the money you deserve is not coming in.”

Elsie thought to herself, “Well, business has been a bit slow lately, but then too I was down with that cold for a week.”  She started to say something, but Esmerelda was shuffling the cards again.  After what seemed like forever, she laid down another and gave this one the same close scrutiny that she had the first.

“This is indeed serious,” she said and reached for her book again.  She flipped the pages til finding the right one and spent several minutes reading.  Then she picked up another book …and then a third. 

Pooka shifted position.  His bottom was getting numb from sitting.

Finally, Esmerelda looked up and fixed Elsie with a pitying expression.

“You are a frail creature, my dear,” she intoned.  “I’m afraid you will soon suffer a long period of illness.”

Elsie frowned.  “I’m usually in excellent health.”

Esmerelda shook her head and her earrings tinkled.  “I see illness,” she repeated solemnly.

“Well, I was under the weather a week ago, but I’m better now,”

The girl glared at her and snapped, “Then you will suffer a relapse!  In fact, see that?”  Her bracelets rattled as the tip of one finger poking out of a column of rings impatiently tapped one of the cards.  “It’s the Death card!  You will be very, very sick and even at the Door of Death!”  She composed her face in a suitably tragic expression.

“But it was just a cold!” protested Elsie.  Then she glanced more closely at the card the girl was indicating.  “Wait a minute,” she sighed.  “ That’s not the Death card.  That’s the Hermit.”

“It most certainly is too…”  Esmerelda’s voice trailed off as a look of uncertainty crossed her face.  “Er, just a moment,” she muttered.  Reaching into one of pockets of her robes, she pulled out a pair of thick glasses and settled them on her face. 

“I’m ever so slightly near-sighted,” she confided airily.  “I usually don’t wear these.  For one thing, they don’t suit my image.”

“You mean “Esoteric Dingbat”?” muttered Pooka under his breath.

“Pooka!” Elsie hissed.

 Esmerelda was intently peering at the card in question.  “Oh dear,” she murmured.  “It appears I was mistaken.  This is indeed the Hermit card.”  The girl removed her glasses and tucked them away again.  “Just one moment while I look this up,” and she fumbled for her book.  Elsie laid a hand on her arm and said gently, “No.  Really!  It’s alright.”

Esmerelda looked crestfallen.  Her whole body slumped.  “I’m sorry,” she said.  “You’re right.  I’m a failure.”

Elsie suddenly felt sorry for her.

“Don’t mind Pooka,” she said.

“Oh no, I’m afraid your little dog is actually correct.  I am, indeed, as he so inelegantly phrased it, an esoteric dingbat.”  Esmerelda hung her head and Elsie shot a glare at Pooka.  He blinked back at her as though to say, “See?  I told you so.”

Elsie patted her hand.  “No you aren’t.  You’re just in the wrong job.  Why are you doing this?”

The girl sighed.    “My entire family consists of witches – quite gifted ones in fact.  I was raised in the tradition.  Naturally, they expect me to follow in their hallowed footsteps. But the truth is, I simply have no aptitude for this!  I don’t even enjoy it!  It’s depressing.” 

Tears welled up in her eyes.  “If only I knew what to do!”

“Well, what do you LIKE to do?” asked Elsie.

The girl waved her hands at the stacks of books.  “Read.  Research. The Glory of the Written Word! As you can see, I love books – all books!  But how can a person make a living by reading?”  She sniffed loudly and wiped her nose on a corner of her cloak.  Elsie handed her a handkerchief.

“I have an idea,” she said.

A few weeks later, Elsie and Pooka mounted the steps to the library.  They approached the front desk and Elsie handed over the books she had finished to the gray haired librarian.  Miss Epstein put them in a cart to be put back on the shelves, then, as the little witch was turning away, she said, “Oh Elsie! Wait!”

“Yes?”

“I just wanted to tell you, dear, that I can’t thank you enough for referring that new assistant to me.  I’m really getting too old to do this alone and she’s perfect for the job!” 

Suddenly, Elsie heard someone say, “Gee, thanks Ezzie!  I get it now!” 

Across the room, she saw a thin girl in a crisp white shirt and gray tweed skirt next to a boy bent over his homework.   Her hair was pulled back in a tidy, blond bun.  As Esmerelda glanced up through her glasses, she instantly recognized Elsie.  She rushed over and hugged her.

“Oh, Elsie!  My dearest friend!” she cried.  “Thank you from the very depths of my soul!  This is absolutely the most optimum manner of employment in the world!  How clever of you to think of it!”

Esmerelda suddenly glanced down at Pooka.  She took off her glasses and cleaned them on her skirt. Replacing the glasses on her nose, she peered down again.

“Why, Elsie, whatever became of your little dog?”

But before the witch could explain, Esmerelda spotted an elderly man entering the library. “Oh, there’s Professor Duncan!” she exclaimed.  “I promised to assist him in his research on the botany of the Manaus Region of Brazil.  Will you excuse me?”  and she hurried off muttering, “Such a fascinating subject – all those unique species of plants…”

Pooka shook his head.  “I still think she’s a dingbat,” he whispered to Elsie. 

Elsie just smiled.

The end

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