“That will be $20,” the old fortuneteller woman said. “Will you pay with cash or card?”
“How about nothing,” Raymond replied, “Seeing as how that was a dumb fortune.”
The fortuneteller paused. “Normally, I charge ahead of time to avoid this very situation. But you are handsome and I thought you kind. I can see now I was wrong.”
“You can see now?” Raymond chided. “But you’re supposed to be psychic. Shouldn’t you have seen this coming?” He stood up and began to walk out of the door.
“Young man, if you do not pay, you will pay,” she warned. “Madame Mina always collects.”
He didn’t even pause to reply, just kept smiling as he walked out the door. Outside it was a beautiful day: clear skies, comfortable weather, and crowded streets. Time to head to work for some easy money, he thought.
Later that day...
"Please help me!" Raymond yelled to some tourists. He was dressed in a 3-piece suit, painted gold, and had been standing on the corner of Bourbon Street, New Orleans for a while now. He'd been experiencing something weird lately and he needed someone, anyone, to talk to. Two tourists, a young couple by the looks of it, turned to face him and once more Raymond felt his body lock into place. It was instantaneous. He could breathe and blink but his muscles failed to budge.
"What's that, babe?" the woman asked.
"It's supposed to be one of those 'living statues'," the man replied. "People dress up in old-timey clothes, paint themselves marble- or gold-colored, and pose while people take pictures. Let's get moving, though. They usually ask for 'donations' like the costumed people up in New York we saw last week." The two people moved on, drinks in hand, and once they turned Raymond could move again.
He dropped his outstretched hand and moved to wipe the sweat from his brow. He was scared now. How was he supposed to ask for help if he froze in place the second people saw him? Again, his muscles locked up and he saw out of the corner of his eye people moving around the street in his direction. As soon as they passed, he was free to move again. This is real bad, he thought. He decided to move off the street for now. It took another two minutes to go twenty feet behind the closest building, due to random glances from people.
Finally unobserved, Raymond cupped his hands into his face. He wanted to cry. He wanted to hide. He heard movement up ahead and ducked further into the alleyway. The movement pursued him and Raymond ran faster.
"Freeze!" someone yelled behind him. And he did. Raymond felt his arms and legs seize up as he was running. "New Orleans Police. Put your hands in the air!" He wanted to comply, but he couldn't. Oh no, he thought, this was about to get much worse. "I said to put your hands in the air! What are you doing skulking around behind here?"
He couldn't respond. His lips wouldn't part and he could barely get any noise out from his throat. He heard footsteps approach from behind. A firm grip formed around his right wrist and Raymond felt another hand shove him against the building wall. When the cop tried to pull his arm down, likely to cuff his hands, his arm didn't budge.
"What the hell?" the cop asked. "Son, do not resist." But Raymond couldn't move or respond. The cop tried to move his arm down again but it didn't move an inch. The cop pressed a boot behind Raymond's right knee to lower him to the ground but it was like pushing against the building in front of him. He was stuck in the same running-man position from when the cop had spotted him. Raymond heard a walkie-talkie chirp. "This is Officer Wayland requesting back-up. I've got a suspicious character and need more manpower. Sorry, chief, womanpower. Sorry, people power? Officers. I need more officers to my location behind Bourbon Street."
There was a pause before a response came through. "Officer Wayland, hold your position. We're sending a unit your way."
A second. Raymond only needed the cop to look away for a second and he could say something. But what? Something like: officer, please, I'm having a rough day? Or, I need you to close your eyes while I speak? No, he was pretty sure that he'd be cut off from his own body the second he got the cop's attention. The cop again tried to wrench his arm down but it failed to budge. There was a flash of blue lights from farther back in the alley and Raymond felt his body ease up. The officer must have looked over to the patrol car that just pulled up. Raymond took his opportunity and moved his arm down. He tried to turn as well but that caught the cop’s attention again, and once more he froze in place.
“Hey,” the cop said, gripping Raymond’s lowered wrist again, “No funny business, now.” Cuffs cinched around Raymond’s wrists and the cop pulled him from against the wall to face the patrol car.
“What do you have there, Wayland?” another officer asked. This one was tall, heavy set, and had a buzz cut. Raymond realized he hadn’t yet been able to see Officer Wayland.
“Caught this guy running around back here,” Officer Wayland replied. “Froze up like a literal statue when I finally spotted him. Hasn’t said a word, and actively resisted arrest. Well, that’s not exactly true. Passively resisted? Look, the guy’s super strong. Wouldn’t budge an inch when I first tried to cuff him. Doubt you’d be able to get him where you wanted yourself, Parker, and you’re twice my size.”
“We can’t exactly book someone for being suspicious, Wayland.” Officer Parker said, and it sounded as if he’d told Officer Wayland this exact thing before. “Lad wants to run around pretending to be a statue, let him be a statue. Now, catch a costumed perp leaving the scene of a robbery with a bag full of jewelry, and that’s another story.” Officer Parker paused. “Do you have a bag of jewelry on you, Officer Wayland.”
“No. No, sir.” Officer Wayland replied. “Should I let him go?”
“Yes, rookie,” Officer Parker said. “Uncuff him and resume your patrol. It’s a gorgeous day outside and you want to spend half of it trying to book someone on grounds of being weird. Drunk and weird, now that’s a booking. Come on.” Officer Parker got back in his car and pulled away. Raymond felt the cuffs loosen.
“Keep out of trouble, son.” Officer Wayland said. He removed the cuffs from Raymond’s wrists and waited for him to start walking away. “Fine, keep up your charade. Don’t expect me to tip you for being a decent statue actor.” Raymond heard booted footsteps walking away behind him and a few seconds later he could move.
His heart was pounding. That was close, he thought. If they’d tried to book him, his “passive resistance” could have made the other officers aggressive real quick. Even worse, if they’d ran his finger prints they’d have seen his record: one breaking and entering and one attempted burglary, for which he’d served two years. They’d likely guess he was casing another place to rob, and that could put him away for much longer.
He had to get to the bottom of this, whatever this was, and that hag fortuneteller seemed a good place to start. Could she really do magic? Was any of that Voodoo stuff real? Maybe it was something janky in that tea she’d offered. Raymond looked around for anymore onlookers and began heading back towards Madame Mina’s Marvelous Mystics.
It took another two hours just to go a mile. He’d get a few blocks and then feel his body freeze as he heard some people approach. Sometimes they would stare a while, take a few pictures, or try to get him to speak. One group of teens even took a particularly long time, trying to get him to laugh or get angry, as if he was one of those Queen’s Guards at Buckingham Palace. None of them left any tips. Rude.
As the sun was setting he finally saw the place. A wooden sign with a purple hand painted on it had the words “Madame Mina’s Marvelous Mystics” spelled across in white letters. He’d passed by this place every day on his route to Bourbon Street. This morning was the first time he’d actually stopped by. He’d had a spare $20 bill but the fortuneteller was just awful. No shaking table or ominous winds when she had closed her eyes to give the fortune. Her voice didn’t drop into a raspy wreck, and she didn’t even try making anything seem “otherworldly”. She just told him a few sentences about what his next week would be like. By the end of it, all of five minutes, he felt he’d wasted his time coming there. Of course he wasn’t going to pay $20 for that.
Raymond now was approaching the shop door. His heart fell when a “Closed” sign hung on the other side of the window. He knocked anyway. His body locked up once more, but he didn’t see the window blinds move. After a minute he could move again and he pounded on the door. Still nothing. He pressed his back to the door and sank down, sitting against it and his face in his hands. He considers for a moment whether or not to break in. Maybe he could find a bill or something with her home address. Or at the very least let her know he had been here and that he was pissed. He felt something lightly bump against his head. He looked up and saw a crumpled ball of paper on the ground next to him. He grabbed it, flattened it out, and saw it had a handwritten note on it: MEET ME AROUND BACK. EYES CLOSED OR WE’RE BOTH SCREWED.
Someone else was here. And by the note, someone like him? He looked around, stood up, and slowly made his way around back. He kept his eyes low but open and eventually he saw a set of tennis shoes. His eyes drew up to see a the back of a pair of jeans, a thick brown belt, and a yellow polo shirt. He saw the back of a short-shaven head and realized the guy wasn’t moving. Quickly Raymond shut his eyes and began to speak. “I’m here,” he said. “Are you...are you like me? I can’t move anytime someone looks at me.”
“Yes, you idiot,” a voice responded. The guy’s voice was croaked as if he hadn’t spoken in a while. “I told you to keep your eyes closed. What if you’d come around the other way and we’d seen each other? We’d be two statues locked in place, is what would have happened. And right behind this witch’s hut for her to find in the morning.”
“What’s going on?” Raymond asked.
“You probably deserved it,” the guy said. “I know I did. Came in yesterday for a fortune, had some spare time and change so figured why not, and refused to pay. Really told her off, too. Called her a fraud and stormed out before she could get a dime out of me. Then all of yesterday and today I’ve frozen in place anytime someone looked at me. Can’t ask for help. Can’t be in public. Can’t even risk looking in a mirror.”
Raymond hadn’t thought of that. If he’d swung home and caught himself looking in the mirror while trying to clean his paint off, would he be stuck there alone in his apartment?
“It took me all of today to get back here,” the guy said, “And by the time I get here she’s gone. Then you turn up and freeze when I spot you knocking on the door. We need to find her and undo whatever curse she put on us. The weekend’s almost up and I have to be at work tomorrow. I have to see my girlfriend. I have to-” He cut off and Raymond felt the guy hug him tightly.
“Hey!” Raymond shouted. He opened his eyes and felt the guy’s arms lock in place. His head was ducked under Raymond’s right arm. After a few seconds, Raymond closed his eyes and felt the guy loosen up.
“I’m sorry,” the guy said, “It’s just that I’ve been scared and lonely. People need people, you know?”
“What do you want to do?” Raymond asked. “I could probably get us inside. Maybe we look around to see if we can find more about her.”
“That will not be necessary, boys.” A woman’s voice, no, THAT woman’s voice said from behind them. Both guys turned to see Madame Mina looking at them.
“You!” both guys shouted.
“Me,” Madame Mina said. “I always collect. Since you do not pay, now you pay.”
“Wait,” Raymond said. “How can we be talking with you? Why aren’t we frozen right now?”
“A simple trick,” she replied. “I close right eye, and you move. I open right eye, and you do not move.” Sure enough, Madame Mina had been talking with them with her right eye closed and as soon as she opened it Raymond felt his body lock in place once more. She kept both eyes opened as she moved towards them. “There is circus coming to town tomorrow. My sister does wonderful job at the trapeze. She could convince ringmaster that you two are professional human furniture performers, who lock in place during show and could be used for many acts. All eyes on you for entire performance. What you think?”
Raymond couldn’t talk. He wanted to yell. He wanted to run.
“Good,” she said. “Enjoy your new futures. I have glimpsed ahead and can tell you you will be quite the show.” She pivoted Raymond look at the guy next to him. They’re eyes locked and his body stayed locked as Madame Mina turned away. The guy’s face was a little scruffy but his eyes were red with tears and panic. “Enjoy cool night air,” she said as she moved back towards the front of the store. She didn’t return, and Raymond and the guy in front of him were still stuck. He tried everything he could to blink or look away. Maybe clouds would cover the moon so it’d be dark enough for them to be freed. But as if in direct response to his thought, an overhead light flicked on and Raymond could see the guy clearly now. Guess she really was psychic.
Cursed in New Orleans (FM/MM)
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Deleted User 4525
What a fun story, love your work on this site. This was a change of pace but was very enjoyable to read.
And now for something completely different. What a great story! No ropes, no gags, but completely appropriate for the site. Well thought out and well written. And an important reminder to always pay for services rendered.