We finished setting up all the stands for gathered around the campfire to welcome everyone old and new. When I looked around, I could only see one new arrival, which was a young girl sitting a small way from the group. Not wanting to seem unfriendly, I walked over to her and smiled. “Hello, it is always nice to see somebody new joining the healing fields. My name is Katrina, and I’m a reader of the rune stones. What about you?”
She reached out to shake my hand. “My name is Louise and I read tarot cards. I notice you have another tarot stall, who does that belong to?”
“This will probably sound strange, but it doesn’t belong to anyone. Well, it did but they are no longer with us in the physical sense. His name was Ben, and this is our way of remembering they were here.”
“As long as his ghost is not giving readings it is a great way to carry on his memory.”
“A ghost giving readings?” I repeated confused. Why would a ghost be doing that of all things?
Louise laughed, a musical sound. “Yeah, a dead guy, I can’t compete with that!”
I wrote this story in reaction to this week’s Sunday photo fiction.