“Classy,” I chuckled, approaching the door to see if anyone was in.
I was only halfway up the walkway when the sign in the window flashed on, blinking the word “open.” Goosebumps climbed up my arms. I rubbed them away.
The cold suddenly felt colder, and the compulsion to step inside the trailer and find what I needed in there grew by the second. My hand wrapped around the scratched bronze doorknob, excited energy bouncing around my chest.
A thick incense smoke hit me immediately, and I coughed. The same twinkling fairy lights from the porch dangled from the ceiling. They were prettier in here, transforming the dark interior of the trailer and giving it a magical glow.
Tapestries covered the white walls with colorful mandalas and strings of beads. Shelves were stocked with polished shells, crystals, jewelry, and expensive lotions.
I shuffled inside, my head swiveling as I took in the surprisingly lovely place.
Soft meditation music played from speakers I couldn’t see. Otherwise, it was silent.
I browsed the jewelry for a few minutes, waiting to see if someone would emerge. Maybe they turned the sign on by mistake? I wasn’t planning to buy anything, I just had this feeling that I needed…something.
A shelf on the far wall caught my eye, a series of framed pictures and newspaper clippings drawing me across the room. Sepia photographs of stern men holding farm tools gathered dust next to a newspaper clipping about the sale of the O’Henry homestead, and the founding of the town.
Another clipping had a blurry image of what someone claimed was a ghost on the bayou. I recognized the name of the newspaper, having driven past the headquarters on a side street. No grocery store, but somehow they had their own local newspaper. Who was even reading newspapers anymore?
There were pages and pages of sightings out on the bayou—Texas Bigfoot, spirits of long dead natives, chupacabra. I squinted at a black and white image of a dead cow, my nose wrinkling.
Well, when you lived in a town this small, you needed something to keep it interesting.
My gaze travelled back up to a picture of three men posed in front of a barn. One scowled darkly, his thick beard obscuring the shape of his face. The others were less shaggy, their bright smiles unusual for such an old picture. I stopped on one of the men, leaning closer to stare at the unexpectedly familiar face.
Why did I recognize a man from more than half a century ago?
“People love tragedy.”
“Huh?” I turned around, not surprised to see a tiny old woman in a silky floral shawl. Her neck and wrists were adorned with beads and her grey hair was braided into a thick rope that rested on her shoulder.
Somehow, her eyes didn’t match her appearance, too sharp in her otherwise soft and tired face.
“Port O’Henry has a sad history. Lots of pain and suffering. People love it. That collection is almost more popular than me.”
“People are twisted,” I responded, taking a step forward and smiling politely. “Your sign said you were open. I hope I’m not intruding.”
The woman smiled back and it was friendly, if not a little calculating. “Of course not. I’ve been expecting you, Tara.”
Cold swept through the room, creeping over my skin like frost across the ground.
The woman cackled, catching me off guard. “You should see your face.” She shook her head, beads clinking as she did. “I have an arrangement with one of the rental agents. He gives me a list of names whenever there are new renters and I slip him a few bills. The tourists love it.”
I exhaled, my palm still firmly planted over my heart in a scandalized gesture. “Is that legal?”
She shrugged. “Would you like a reading? The first one is always free.”
What did I have to lose? At the very least, it would be entertaining. “Sure, why not?”
“Let me introduce myself.” She bowed dramatically. “I am Madame Celine. Come, make yourself comfortable.” Celine disappeared behind a curtain of beads, waving for me to follow.
The scent of incense was cloying back here, making my eyes burn. A series of red lights shone onto a round table in the middle of the narrow room. Two overstuffed green recliners were placed across from each other on either side.
Shelves and tables lined every wall, decorated with crystals and statues of weird combinations of human and animal forms. There was one of a naked man with a wolf’s head. I stared for a moment too long, trying not to think of that horrible vision of Jay.
Celine followed my line of sight and smiled slyly. “Theloup garou. Some believe he lives out on the bayou.”
“What’s with all the bayou ghost stories?” I settled into one of the chairs as she did the same.