The engines droned on and on as the fat-bellied plane continued on its path to a destination on the other side of the world. She was in a near stupor by now … the loud buzzing, the stuffy cabin, the narrow seats. It seemed the only defense was to slide into a state of fugue and let the hours slip away.

It took a little while before Maggie noticed the quiet little woman in the adjacent seat talking to her.

“I’m sorry, I was off in la-la land. What did you say?”


The old woman smiled. “Hard to hear with all the noise. I asked you if you’d care to have your palm read. I have some small talent in such things … and I noticed you have an interesting pattern … Has anyone ever read it?”

“Oh,” she laughed, “Years ago when I was out in San Francisco. She didn’t know what to make of it because it didn’t make sense. She said I had the Sign of the Beast — whatever that means — but it didn’t matter because it was my left hand and I’m right-handed. But she wasn’t all that clear on the other hand either, so maybe she just wasn’t a very good palm reader.” She laughed again, a bit nervously.

The old woman raised an eyebrow. Maggie wondered how she did that. Raising a single eyebrow was so expressive, but she could never get one to go up without the other. Then, she sighed. “Which hand would you like?”


Smiling, the woman answer “Your left. Of course. That is your soul. The right palm shows your life and events, but your soul … what you were given to do in this life … that is on your left.”

She looked at it for a long time then folded Maggie’s hand and wrapped her own hand around Maggie’s fist.


“Your journey is long, complicated and unclear. You have power to change yourself and others, but many things, many people will take the power from you.” She looked sad.  Maggie twitched uncomfortably.

“Do you want to see the other hand?”

She shook her head. “No, it doesn’t matter. Yours is a unique path. Your story cannot be read on your hands. Or in the stars.” Then she became quiet, as did Maggie and the long miles drifted by in a loud buzzing of engines.

Categories: Daily Prompt, Fiction, Magic, Photography

Tags: , , , , , ,

16 replies

  1. Great story…made me a feel a little blue, but I think that’s more where I’m at than caused by your writing. 🙂


    • I guess it is a little sad … but life is what it is. I don’t feel sad about my life. I don’t even feel disappointed at how my body crapped out on my so early. It happened. I do what I can with what I have. I try not to let depression get me because going down into that hole is sooo easy, but climbing back out is much harder. You’re basically doing what I do, which is keeping as busy as you can, doing what you can, and usually, eventually, it will help. It’s the only thing I know of that does help. Drugs only take you so far. Reading is still my drug of choice.

      Liked by 1 person

  2. Nice job! Good story. A guy read my grandmother’s palm (he was my dad’s care taker, nurse) and then mine. My grandmother’s palm and mine were almost identical. I paid attention to that because she did lose her vision to the flu (and my dad got a virus in his eye and nearly lost it and at the same age my dad was when he got his, I got a virus in my eye and nearly lost it) — a few other things. That kind of makes sense in that so much of who we are and what happens to us is related to genetics. She lived to be 92 and if I can live to 92 as she did, fine by me. Otherwise? Yikes…


    • Most of us like to believe there’s a logical explanation for everything, but a lot of things can’t be explained logically. We can rationalize them … hell I can rationalize anything … but that doesn’t mean I know anything. I’ve had stuff happen I can’t explain, know things I can’t have learned by any rational process. So I accept that I don’t need to explain them. A little mystery is good for the soul.

      Liked by 1 person

      • Absolutely. There’s a reason why so many of us were addicted to Nancy Drew, the Dana Boys, the Mercer Boys, Patty and jo, Detectives, the Bobbsy Twins, Trixi Belden and the rest of the teen-aged and pre-teenaged sleuths.


  3. Sort leaves you feeling uncanny. In that case just as soon not know.


  4. The palms just have a few irregularities now, but the back of the hand has a few strange spots in a brown shade, I don’t know where they come from, but it seems to be a sympton of the years that go.


  5. I had my palm read once – the woman said I would travel – and so on her advice I did.


  6. Are they the hands that could not stretch enough for the piano notes? the surface reminds me of the paths I take when I go for a walk, branching off to interesting places.


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