Original Writing Showcase Dec. 2013 | Page 6

The lights dimmed, everyone's eyes closed and the moderator started the meditation. My window of escape slammed shut with a bang when the people on both sides of me grabbed my hands. Evidently creating a closed circle was part of the ritual. Although the meditation was quite relaxing and did ease a headache that was turning into a thundering roar, I was ready to be out of there. Again, my great escape was foiled when the so called psychic looked straight at me motivating everyone's eyes to follow. "How is your headache? Better I hope. Your terra strata series will be very successful. Continue working on it." Our resident guest announced to me and the whole free world now knew that I was working on a series of paintings I called "Terra Strata". 'Really', I thought, 'that wasn't so bad. Not all that personal.' A certain amount of relief spread over me. Little did I know how short lived that relief was because in the next few minutes she let me have it with both barrels. It toppled my world and never again would it be the same. Chloe held her gaze as she enlightened me with her guidance. "Your guides want me to tell you that it's time to own who you are. Your true work as a channel for universal knowledge is about to begin. They are asking that you listen and write down the messages they are giving you for you will soon be sharing them with the world." As her last words rang through the room, I felt more exposed and venerable than if I had been striped of all my clothes and forced to belly dance in the middle of the circle. I glanced at a few of the people, only to discover that their eyes were frozen on me and their mouths were gaping. I looked at my friend, Carol, and she had a smirky smile on her face. 'I wonder how psychics do in prison,' I thought as I was very close to strangling her. Soon the attention toward me waned when our guest psychic turned to someone else, advising her on whether she should sleep with Tom, Dick or Harry. I sat quietly throughout the rest of the hour with my eyes glued on my shoes, lost in my internal turmoil. As everyone was getting to their feet, I was out