The Power of 3

Chapter One

After sixteen attempts to toss a baseball in a peach basket Derek shoved the crumpled dollar bills in the pocket of his jeans. Three dollars was the balance of  a twenty his father slipped to him before heading for the county fair. It did not leave him very much to have fun.

            Shuffling his feet he left the game and headed for the food court. The scent of cotton candy, corn dogs and fried food permeated the air. Derek rubbed his nose hoping to alleviate the pang of hunger gnawing deep in his stomach.

            He watched as a heavy set man, wearing a food stained t-shirt, in a concession trailer cover a summer sausage with sour kraut and chili. Handing it to a waiting teenager the man turned to Derek. Shaking his head no, Derek turned away from the scene of food and focused on the house of glass behind the trailer.

            Derek watched as a couple mimed their way through a maze of glass covered with fingerprints. A girl about Derek's age stood by the ticket booth squeezing an orange backpack. She smiled shyly at Derek and disappeared behind the house of glass.

            Screams and shrieks rose above the clamor of carnival rides. The sound of the roller coaster cars clacked and clanged on metal tracks. Rock music blared from speakers above the Himalayan ride as passengers yelled for more. Derek slowed his pace as he approached the video arcade.

            He stepped inside the tent to find that all the games were being used by every type of person. The pinball machines were taken by players smoking cigarettes, skee ball alleys were full with hundreds of tickets spewing from the winnings shoot. Derek knew his mother would not approve of him playing games where weapons were used to kill the opponent. He could hear her utter a statement in the back of his mind.

            "I'm a God fearing Christian woman and violent games are not the answer to the problems of today's youth."

            Derek's mother, Betty Johansen, would stand her 5 foot 3 inch frame in the way of the television whenever a commercial or show depicting a violent act. She was raised and she would teach her son that only men would go to war and children should be at home minding the chores until they became old enough to kill.

            He fumbled with the thought of just once playing a shoot 'em up video game but he knew his mom would find out because God would tell her. Then he would be grounded for at least a week. He brought a comic book home from school and he had to wash his mouth out with soap. His mother didn't want to wash his eyes with the lye soap that she made in the kitchen on Saturdays because it could cause him to go blind.

            Derek sauntered away from the arcade tent and headed in the direction of the rides. He felt that he might find some tickets that were lost by a careless fair patron.

            He rubbed his head, the hair cut short to the scalp, tingled under his fingers. Derek stood just under 5 feet tall. His father said that he was going to be a big man like his grandfather which stood over 6 feet tall. Derek didn't want to get any taller. It would mean that he was becoming a man and at this point in his life he worked harder than any man in town.

            Every morning he was up before the sun rose over the barn. Derek would be in the barn sitting on the stool milking Bessie. He knew that eventually he would not have to milk this cow. It would be another cow he would have to milk. Then Derek would be in the chicken coop collecting the eggs that were laid during the night. By this time the sun was just rising over the horizon and it would be time to take the scraps from the previous days meals and feed it to the hogs. At twelve years old, Derek did everything on the farm except plowing the fields with the John Deere tractor.

            The rest of the day he would spend in the county school. He would day dream of going to college so he could learn to be important. Derek didn't care if he was a doctor or a professor. Something important. He wanted to have people do things for him. He felt older than his age.

           

 

            "Come one. Come all to see the amazing Madame Celeste. Hear about your past and learn the future. How about you young man. Let Madame Celeste tell you of things to come."

            Derek's attention was diverted from his self pity party to the barker. He stood behind a podium waving a cane above his head. The barkers hair was long and fluttered each time he moved his head.

            The barkers coarse voice echoed through Derek's head. He stared at the banner which showed a man with a concave stomach, another picture showed a large woman standing next to a man that barely reached her knee. The next picture showed a woman  hovering over a crystal ball. A bright blue light pulsed from the ball, the background full of stars.

            Derek turned to the barker as he started his spiel again. The words were the same, the tone of his voice the same. The barkers hair moved in the same manner. Derek's attention was so concentrated like he was a moth driven to the light on the back porch at his house.

            "How much for my fortune?" Derek said before he realized that he had spoken any words.

            "What cha' got kid?" The barker leaned around the podium and whispered as if anyone in the vicinity would hear.

            "One dollar." Derek lied.

            "That is the price of your fortune kid. One dollar to know the future from Madame Celeste." The barker put more emotion toward on the name. "O.K. kid your name is....?"

            "Derek Johansen!" he blurted. Derek felt a strange feeling come over him. It reminded Derek of the time his mother found out that him and some of his schoolmates found a cigarette and decided to smoke it. Derek knew he was in trouble because the hair on the nape of his neck stood on end.

            "Well kid, Derek Johansen, gimme the dollar and you can go in the tent on the end and get the future." The barker winked at Derek.

            He walked to the tent on the end. Derek could smell some type of perfume, not the kind that smelled of violets that his mother wore or even the after shave that his father wore. It was the smell of burned leaves mixed with sweet chocolate.

            Derek entered the tent and stood at the door to let his eyes adjust to the dim lighting.

            "Please. Sit down Derek Johansen." The voice cooed from somewhere in the back of the tent.

            Derek swallowed hard. He guided himself to the light from a candle on the table. He bumped into the chair before him. He slid in the seat hitting his knee on the leg of the table.

            His focused on the candlelight reflecting on the crystal ball. He could see an upside down version of Madame Celeste sitting across from him. Her face obscured by a rose covered veil that flowed over her shoulders. She spoke softly, pausing on her every word.

            "Derek, please lay your hands on the table."

            Madame Celeste placed her hands on top of his upturned hands. They felt cool and light as a soft autumn breeze blowing through the fields of corn at his parents farm. She caressed his long fingers with a light stroke.

            "Derek, you wish to know more of your life." She paused breathing deeply. "Be not afraid for I speak only the truth."

            He cleared his throat. Shifting his weight in the folding chair he pulled his hands away from her touch. Madame Celeste increased the pressure against him.

            "Be not afraid for the night is upon you. The light in your eyes has and shall guide you." She stopped speaking. "You come from a strong family. Your mother is devoted to her God. She teaches you to be faithful and believe in yourself. Your father is  a strong man that procreates with his hands. He gives you strength and a purpose in life." She paused.

            Derek's body expanded. His mind became enlarged and his concentration on the spoken words intensified.

            "Ask and you shall be given the path you are to follow."

            "What will I be when I am a grown up?" Derek asked.

            The air in the tent stilled. Sounds of the midway faded in the darkness of the tent. The aroma of roses permeated the air. The earth beneath Derek's feet seemed miles away. The crystal ball grew in brightness. Steams of light projected from the center reaching all corners of the tent. Derek felt uneasy.

            "Your journey begins tonight in search of the lost ones. Derek, you will find the spirit with the key." Madame Celeste's breath was released with a mist. "You will be assisted by a fair maiden and a man of power. They will guide you on your trek offering assistance in the fight against the man who watches."  Her voice just a sigh above a whisper. "You shall search for the lost ones. They are yearning for the life that was taken by the man that watches. He is a strong force of iniquity. He is among the living that takes life from the weak and devastated."

            The movement of air began to increase in the tent. The candlelight flickered from light to dark. Sounds of the midway filter through the canvas and reached Derek. The temperature of the room rose with each breath Derek inhaled. He could taste the dust as it swirled and twirled within the small confines of the tent.

            "Depart on your quest. Begin your travel. Allow the light in your eyes be your guide. Go forth and achieve your blessing of assistance from your guides. They will give you the answer you seek." Madame Celeste closed her eyes and dropped her chin to her chest.

            The flame of the candle erupted into a fireball reaching the canvas ceiling of the tent. Small flares exploded beneath the table. Smoke billowed from the sawdust flooring around Derek's feet.

            The crystal ball vibrated with a force that shook the table. The ground beneath Derek's feet rumbled. Madame Celeste released his hands. He fell to the floor covered in sawdust. He inhaled the smoke covered dust causing his lungs to protest.

            Derek awaked from his stupor to see Madame Celeste skim across the floor to the back of the tent and then she vanished in a shimmer of bright light.

            He stared at the spot where she disappeared not believing what he witnessed. Derek looked around the tent watching the flames engulfing everything in sight. Smoke thickened with each second. He ground his hands in the sawdust and crawled for the entrance. His squinted with the sting of smoke in his eyes. As he reached the flap in the tent that was his escape route he was stopped by a mountain of flesh.

            A woman, the size of a Tampa Bay Buccaneer linebacker, stood her ground blocking his way out. She looked down at Derek with eyes outlined in bright blue eye shadow. The floral print dress hung loosely over her mammoth frame.

            "What have you done to my tent you little heathen?" The pyramid of a women shrieked.

            "I didn't do nothing!" Derek exclaimed.

            "Hank, get the fire hose and start putting this out while I deal with this delinquent." The woman pulled Derek by the nape of his neck into the fading sunlight.

            He wriggled under the grip of the fat woman holding his prisoner. Her fingers dug deep into the flesh of his neck that he could feel the blood supply being cut off to his brain. Derek's eyes began to flutter with the lack of blood and oxygen. He looked at the poster above his head to the picture of the psychic.

            The picture was no longer the same. The woman behind the crystal ball was now replaced with the woman retaining him. She sat behind a table with planets circling her massive head. No veil covered her thinning reddish hair.  The same dress that stood before him was the same one in the poster. The name listed under the picture was Madame Maggie. Derek stared in disbelief. He could not understand what was happening at this point in his life.

            This large woman named Madame Maggie, loosened her grip on his neck as she was looking for a place to store him for safe keeping and strict punishment. He wormed himself loose of her immense grip. Their eyes connected. Derek saw fear in her deep brown irises. He turned from her frightful stare and headed for the midway.

            He lost himself in the throngs of people heading for the burning tent. Over the dim of noise he could hear Madame Maggie's shrill voice yelling for someone to stop him. He bolted  between the Zipper and the Himalayan rides. Crouching below the exit  platform he saw the barker and Madame Maggie run by the front of the ride. He stayed in this position for the footsteps to die down. In the distance he could hear the volunteer fire department siren shrieking across the sky.

            Derek felt movement behind him. Turning to the right he saw something that startled him. It was the adrenaline coursing through his body that made him jump to his feet. Derek's head hit the metal frame work of the ride causing him to slip into unconsciousness.  

 

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