soon be over, be brave” In Greek)
She pulled her hand away from my lips and I was in too much pain to say anything apart from cry. Then she repeated the same words once more to the dragon ring and placed it to her own palm letting it once again taste blood. At least this time it was hers. Unlike me she smiled at the pain as though welcoming it and pressed it tightly to my own bleeding hand.
“It has been a pleasure Electus!" (Means “Chosen” In Latin)
These were the last words I heard until my mother’s voice woke me up. I opened my eyes to the room my sister and I shared in my grandparent’s guest house. I first thought it was all a dream as I looked down at my hand for a cut in my skin but it wasn't there. I later found out that my parents, along with a number of fairground staff had found me curled up asleep near the tool shed. There was no sight of a gypsy woman and nor had there been one working the fair that year. I tried to tell my parents but without proof they put it all down to a nightmare.
I, too, had been convinced until the day I saw her again.
It was on my seventh birthday, we had all gone out to an American themed diner where they served burger and chips (Or fries as it was on the menu), which was a favourite of mine. Afterwards we all walked along the shore to get some ice cream, spotting one made with traditional Cornish clotted cream. I pointed it out as though the colourful ice cream van was a beacon drawing me in.
I walked right up to the open window already knowing the flavour I wanted, when I noticed something familiar. The man that served me had the same deadly red tint in his eyes as the gypsy in my dream. I tried to shake it off but the red kept getting deeper and deeper until it soon looked as though his eyes would overflow with blood. I stepped back before giving him my order, when my father’s voice came up behind me making me jump.
“Whoa, hey kiddo, what flavour are you getting?” I didn't answer as my dad walked past me giving the man three orders for himself, my sister and my mum.
“Honey what you having?...Come on make your mind up.” My dad was getting impatient as he could see a line forming behind me. I still couldn't speak. Why couldn't he see what I was seeing? He turned to give me a look that translated to if I don't pick soon I wouldn't be getting one so I mouthed a silent “Chocolate” and he frowned at my strange behaviour. He passed me mine with his hands full and walked towards my family who had sat down on a nearby bench. I was about to follow when the man from the van shouted “Hey Guv you forgot your change” in a thick Essex accent.
“Oh Honey could you grab that for me.” I froze knowing I would have to explain myself if I refused. Maybe I was just seeing things. That had to be it, no one else in the line looked freaked. People moved out of my way to let me pass as I reached up my hand to receive the money but the man grabbed my hand forcefully and my eyes met the gypsy woman's face, the one that had haunted my dreams for weeks. Her eyes were bleeding and the blood dripped down onto people's ice creams that lay in the holders. Customers still took them and licked away at them as though nothing was there. Nobody seemed to notice this mad looking woman as she was pulling me closer to the window. They were just going around me as though I was a traffic cone in the road.
“Now you will see...7....7....7…7” she kept repeating the number over and over as she let go of my hand. I fell back and an elderly couple helped me off the floor, picking up the change that the crazy gypsy had dropped around me. I looked back and the ice cream man's face smiled back at me, saying “Are you all right love?”
I couldn't understand what had just happened and my parents just thought my tears were from when I had fallen and lost my ice cream. But from that day on I would see things that