Rise of the Wadjet Witch - By Juliet C. Obodo Page 0,1
she forgave her. “Well, this poor woman—a teacher—her body was found in a warehouse in Brooklyn.”
“Oh no, really?”
“Yes. I’m not surprised about the Brooklyn part. That’s why I never leave Manhattan.” She popped a piece of samosa into her mouth.
“I don’t think crossing the bridge will kill you.”
“Well, this woman’s corpse would beg to differ.” She leaned in closer. “But listen, the real story is that there were no other marks on her besides a stab wound right between the eyes.”
Memphis shivered. “Why are you covering a murder?”
“Well, with the expansion we hired more reporters who have been pitching more interesting stories. See how that works? More money, more stories.”
“Thanks for breaking it down for me,” Memphis replied dryly.
“Anyway, we don’t want all the juice from our spirituality and positivity to dry up, so we decided to supplement it with some scary stuff. The scary stuff will push our readers to seek more positivity. The bosses want to see even more growth, and what sells better than sex and violence? Speaking of sex, the new reporter who pitched the story is a real cutie. He’s the kind of guy you should date. Not some tacky old fart.”
“Jonathan is thirty-three.”
“Like I said, old fart. This guy is pretty smart. He was able to put a New Age spin on the story because she was stabbed where her ‘Third Eye’ is located. I’ll introduce you to him when you come and meet me for lunch next week.”
“Third Eye? I thought people only had two. Did she grow a third one while taking the L train over to Williamsburg?”
“No,” Jill replied, brushing off her sarcasm. “We all have one, no matter what borough you live in. It sits in the middle of your forehead; it’s the most important chakra.”
“What’s a chakra?” Memphis suppressed the urge to make a joke that involved the Queen of Funk.
“Memphis, how do you not know what a chakra is?” Jill asked, incredulous.
“What do you want from me? I’m a scientist.”
“Chakras are the most basic forms of energy; the Third Eye is one of them. There are seven energy centers that fuel our consciousness.”
Jill went on about energy and how it was harnessed within the body. Memphis tended to zone out when Jill went into an in-depth discussion about anything New Agey, but this actually sparked her interest. How was it tied to a dead woman? She had a point about sex and violence. She continued to listen to Jill’s pseudo-scientific babble. “Chakras, or energy centers, function as pumps or valves, regulating the flow of energy to our system—body and mind. The chakras can reflect decisions we make and how we choose to respond to our environment; we can open and close them at will. They are very powerful, especially the Third Eye. It’s the psychic center of all of your senses. The chakras represent not only particular parts of your physical body, but also particular parts of your consciousness. There are seven levels of consciousness, and each category can be associated with a particular chakra.”
“So this is a spiritual belief system?” Memphis inquired. She was a fan of facts and having the data to support them.
“No, it’s not just a belief. It’s true. When your consciousness is affected, you feel it in the chakra associated with that part of your consciousness. You also feel it in the parts of the physical body associated with that chakra. Where you are affected depends on what is affecting you. If it is long and strong, then it can manifest on the physical level.” Her long lashes nearly touched her eyebrows as she expressed wonder at the thought that such a thing was possible.
Memphis continued to listen intently. Jill never took this much interest in something that didn’t have a designer label.
“So, when you feel any tension in your consciousness, you feel it in the chakra that’s associated with the part of your consciousness experiencing the stress. But it depends on where and why you feel the stress.”
“Does that mean the victim’s stress manifested itself on her forehead?” Memphis asked innocently.
Jill rolled her eyes before throwing a piece of naan at her.
“No, but really, poor girl.” Memphis sighed.
“I know,” Jill agreed. “To have to die in Brooklyn.”
This time Memphis rolled her eyes.
“So, enough talk of death; I have a bunch of interviews tomorrow. Speaking of, would you be interested in writing horoscopes, or maybe a few articles? It would be great to have a real astronomer on staff. No other newspaper has