The Fortune Teller
A Tale of the Intimate Way
I.
The fortune teller never forgot when he was sold.
He didn’t remember a lot from that time. He remembered being hungry. He remembered being cold. He remembered clinging to his mother as she spoke to the old fortune teller. Money was exchanged.
And his mother and his sister left him with the old man.
He tried to follow his mother, but the old man hit him across his head with his stick, knocking the boy down, and then tied him up. They waited as the boy cried. Years later he remembered the tears. He remembered wailing until his throat was hoarse.
The man’s hair and beard were matted, and it seemed he shaped it all as various odd spikes, some kind of halo, all around his head. It seemed he used mud to shape his hair.
They stayed where they were for two days. The first day the old man gave him water, but nothing else. The next day he asked the boy if he wanted some food. The boy said yes. And he gave him some bread. The boy gobbled it down. The old man asked if he wanted some cheese. The boy said yes. And he gave him some cheese. And more water. But he remained tied up.