Scrivenings of the King-Beyond-The-Wall

New Orleans #5

As someone who liked to fancy himself taking control of his own destiny, the idea of going to a fortune teller to tell me about my future was laughable. I didn’t need someone named Madame Whatever-the-Fonk telling me that I was destined for great things because of the way the palm lines on my hands branch out. And why did all fortune tellers seem to have really seedy old houses or shops in the worst parts of town? I mean, this isn’t Wichita for God’s sake.

This particular fortune teller looked much like what I expected; an elderly woman that looked like she was two cats short of officially being classified as a cat lady by the United States Government. She read my cards and came up with a surprising fortune:

Greatness you won't have
but rather great tragedy—
Don't count your chickens


______________________________

(143 words)


Form: Haibun  

Prompt: Set your story in an oracle or a fortune teller’s parlor.