The Quest part one

The Quest part one

A Story by Cherrie Palmer

Where does intuition come from


Like a greedy woman in need of a secret I grabbed my keys and headed out the door. Once down the lane, I light up, letting the Winston dance between my fingers. I find myself needing something all my own. That only I know about.
It all began a month ago. I was on a road trip and while driving I had the urge to smoke. It hit me out of the blue. What makes that odd is I don’t smoke. I also started humming a song. It was an Italian lullaby, I guess I learned it in school, but for the life of me, I can’t remember learning it. I know all the words to this song. For some reason, I only think of it when driving. No, I only think of it when smoking.  I only get this urge when I’m alone and it gives me deep satisfaction.

It is not the fact I don’t want anyone to know, but the need to have something all my own. If the discovery was made my interest for it would die. Would I have the need to replace it with something new only time could tell? 

We are wonderfully complex beings and I love the simplicity of that. I slowed to a stop, in front of a signal light and realized I didn’t know where I was. I had lost track of time. On the Southeast corner was Madame Zeal’s House of Cards. All the windows were blacked out and the oversized front door was oak trimmed with cast iron giving it an ole world flare. I was compelled to pull in.

“Well, Hello there,” I mumbled, as I opened my car door. I let my smoke fall to the ground and lightly stomped it out as I walked by. Normally I would never go into a place like this. I have an aversion to places I’ve never been. Not to mention the fact that there is no outside lighting for this building. Never the less I pulled that door wide and stepped inside.
The walls were lined with mason jars. They were filled with dried herbs and such. In the middle of the room stood a single table with two chairs. I was expecting to see a wall of beads hanging in the adjoining doorway and to my surprise there they hang. The beads sang out and began to sway. A very old woman appeared. Her tanned skin was tooled to a leathery complexion. She held a corn cob pipe in her right hand. And just like an old movie she wore a long patched skirt and matching scarf.
“You are not a seeker.” She said flatly. She took a small step forward. The puzzled look on my face made her explain. "You don't seek anyone on the next plane."

 She looked into my eyes. There was no warmth to be found in the depths of her gaze. I forced myself to blink. I had no words to offer. She repeated herself in a soft chuckle. “You are not a seeker but you have the gift. Pay me and sit quickly.”
I reached into my back pocket where I knew I had a ten dollar bill. My hand and the money slowly reached for her. She made no attempt to take the offering. Her spine straightened and she seemed to grow an inch. It was like, my money, was dirty. She nodded toward the table. I laid the money down and in unison, we both sat. It was then I realized the money was atonement and not a payment. I wasn’t sure what I was atoning for, but I had the idea she did.
“You have a follower.” She said to me. My own voice failed me and all I could do was shake my head no.
In response, she nodded yes.” Oh yes, there is no mistake you have a Shade. A man, from the ole world many years dead. I can see him clearly.”
“No, that simply isn’t so,” I said in protest as my voice cracked and my left hand trembled slightly.
“Tell me, do you talk to yourself? Yes, I can see that you do.” Again, she stared into my eyes. "In your car while driving. That is when he talks to you."

 I reached my palm toward her. So she could look upon it.
“Don’t be silly, put your hand down.” She paused and lit a pipe. She sat without moving for so long I thought she had fallen asleep. I stood to leave.
“Sit down.” She said in a manly voice. “My name is Silas, and you and I are going on a quest.” Quickly I jumped to my feet. The old woman grabbed my hand and she began to sing that song. I melted into my chair. Her eyes flew open at the same time the front door flew open and the old woman ran from the room.
I didn’t know what to do. I wanted to run after her but my own fear took hold and I ran out the door. I chucked the pack of smokes out the window and raced toward the house. I pulled under the carport and as I grabbed my purse I noticed that inside it was the pack of Winston's

© 2018 Cherrie Palmer

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Ooh.. cherrie.. you are a talented story teller...n I love the way you tell the story n...i like the way the lady reached the place...her need to have a secret hehe .... :) am in love with your way of story telling...never a dull min..

Posted 1 Week Ago

Cherrie Palmer

1 Week Ago

Thank you, this chapter still needs a little work but I'm already working on part two

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Added on March 6, 2018
Last Updated on March 7, 2018
Tags: mystery_ghost


Cherrie Palmer
Cherrie Palmer

Bull Shoals Lake, AR

I am a published poet and love poetry. I also have two books on Amazon Kindle: Obsession Starts with a smile, and a western The Knife That Knew No Mercy. Both stories are fast paced and entertaining.. more..