Vintage Misery: Part One (special preview)

I had learned a few things from smart cars salesmen, televangelists, and other hawkers of usually broken schloch. I learned to razzle dazzle to sell something that many didn’t believe existed. It did, in fact it was a thriving side of the world few could see. For most what I sold was a form of entertainment, move franchises, late night television hosted by busty goths. It was all too real for me, having inherited my family’s knowledge, a touch of my mother’s gifts.

Much like a traveling salesman I tried to hit up well to do neighborhoods. But I learned that college towns also were a boon for my business. Especially when sororities and fraternities were involved. They usually resided in old houses, and those who resided within were usually children of old money. Old money meant new money for me. But it’s the old houses that usually sell it. The older the better, the more columns on the porch, the better. Especially in the south. I love taking business to the old south.

The houses there are usually remnants from plantations, and there is enough history there to build off of to scare some idiot kids into making their parents pay for my expertise. It’s easy to wiggle in too. Pretending to be a fortune teller, ghost whisperer, etc, etc, and performing for parties was how I started. After that, I would usually have repeat customers come asking for more. Bit by bit that’s when the hauntings would start.

One such party I had gone to recently was supposed to be a bg break. One of the girls in the sorority was the daughter of a notoriously superstitious beauty tycoon. The woman was known to only do business deals under strict guidance of her horoscope and the placement of celestial bodies. She used crystals, tea readings, and all those sorts of new age bullshit to run her business, her family. And her daughter was within reach. Her daughter who was about to witness a powerful medium, a medium who could be hired. But perhaps I was getting ahead of myself.

The usual shtick was easy, I pretended to read the young women as they watched flabbergasted with big eyes surrounded by too much eyeshadow. I sometimes think to myself how I could have been one of them had my parents not dragged me across the globe. But that’s me being bitter.

“And you, young lady,” I said to one of the girls, “you are currently dealing with unrequited love.”

The girl looks scared and then near tears. “How did-”

I tilt my head a bit towards a cool breeze. “It’s towards one of our teachers.”

“I knew it,” another girl said as shittly as possible.

The lovestruck girl shook her head at me. “Can I make it work.”

I feel the cold breeze again against my ear. “No. He’s your fucking professor, he’s either gonna use you and lose you, or keep you on the side for forever until he loses everything in the ensuing scandal and you’re left to fit the bill. Get over it. Besides, there’s a boy in Delta house who has your picture in his wallet.”

The girl, through tears, sniffled and looked at me hopefully. “Who?”

The breeze went through my hair. “Something Buchanen.”

“Max?” The girl who sounded shitty said.

I checked my wristwatch. “Oh dear, look at the time laddies.” I tapped the watchface. “Times up for me.” I stood up and blew out the candles then turned on the lights.

Shitty girl jumped up. “Wait! What did you say about Max having her picture?”

“It’s in your room,” I scoff. “Go and look for yourself if you don’t believe me. Now if you want me to stay longer you’re going to have to pay me.” A cold chill runs down my spine. “And buy me some burritos for dinner.”

Shitty girl ran out to go to her room and search for that wallet. I left with my money, heading down the stairs of the hold place. It was dark already and the streetlamps were casting shadows.

“You should have stayed!” The cold wind hit the back of my head.