Being 10, all I wanted to do was create sandcastles and pretend I was a mermaid. It felt natural being outdoors and near the ocean. Each morning, I’d make Dad’s coffee and toast to hurry him out of our tiny apartment so I could get to the beach.
The summer had ended and only one family was vacationing at the beach. The only reason I remember is they had a daughter my age. Dad insisted I play with her because she didn’t have any siblings to play with.
She tormented me for three days. The last straw was when she pushed me down into my newly-made sandcastle. Hurricane Ivan headed straight for us; I couldn’t control my anger and it smacked straight into the coast.
Dad said living anywhere in Florida would be a disaster. I hope he was wrong.
It would be nice to take a plane some time instead of traveling by bus. Planes fascinate me…getting to a specific destination in hours instead of days would be great. Dad thought it was too dangerous for me to be high in the air with the chance my emotions might run amok. I quickly imagine a sudden flash of lightning striking a plane and shake my head to clear the image away.
There are no bus depots in Cassadaga, so the closest station is in Sanford, which takes me 18 miles south of where I need to be. Instead of traveling straight to Cassadaga, I find the closest library.
Cassadaga: “The Psychic Capital of The World”.
“This should be interesting,” I whisper while staring at the computer screen. Searches on the area reveal a small “spiritual camp” with a limited history on the town. Of course, there is no listing for Simza Kepi.
“Why is nothing easy?”
She’s also not found in any searches in nearby towns or on any phone records.
The intercom switches on. “The library will close in five minutes.”
“Wonderful.” The old woman at the information desk lifts her chin and watches me.
According to the Calendar of Events on the spiritual camp page, I may be able to make the Orb Spirit Encounter that starts at 7:30PM. I print the directions to the camp, grab my duffel bag, and head for the exit, passing the looming old woman’s judgmental stare on my way out.
I’m going to have to do some old-fashioned detective work to find Simza.
The Uber driver drops me off in front of the bookstore at exactly 7:25PM and the desolate parking lot indicates it’s not a hot tourism spot for the area. One would think the Psychic Capital of the World would be able to predict the best times to hold tours and events.
I chuckle and shake my head.
The building across the street has a few vehicles parked on the side. It’s set up like a small, middle American town, but with a touristy feel. Signs litter both buildings displaying various medium names. There’s also a sign for BINGO. That sounds fun…if you’re 40 years older than me.
A four-door white sedan parks in one of the empty parallel parking spots. Two older ladies get out and chat while they make their way into the bookstore. I follow closely.
“I don’t know why I’m doing this,” the golden-gray-haired woman says to her friend.
“Because you have nothing better to do.” The white-haired woman with the camera hanging around her neck snorts and laughs. Her friend grins.
“Hello.” An older lady with dyed blonde hair smiles as we enter the bookstore. “Are you ladies here for the Orb Encounter?”
“We sure are,” the camera-wielding woman in front of me replies.
I nod.
She takes our “contributions”, our names, and offers to hold my duffel bag in the back room, which I wholeheartedly accept after taking my purse out of it.
The warm night, mixed with the humidity is nothing new to me, but the sounds are different…crickets and insects swarm near us while we remain outdoors. Several people smack at the mosquitos that don’t bother with my Rom blood. There are more people than I thought interested in this outing. Some walked from the nearby hotel, which explains the lack of cars in the front.
The tour is uneventful. The guide talks about the history of Cassadaga and shows us several spots that spirits tend to roam. Everyone takes pictures except me. I had grabbed a newsletter from the counter that contained all the mediums/psychics in the camp, hoping Simza Kepi would be one of them, but she isn’t listed.
It’s almost 10:00PM and several visitors head back to their hotel.
“Excuse me.” I wait for the two older ladies to move away from the tour guide. “I’m looking for a Simza Kepi. I was told she lives around here. Do you know her?”
Her loose, steel-gray hair brushes her cheek as she processes my question. She shakes her head. “I’ve not heard of her. I’m sorry.”
“Thank you.” I grab my duffel bag and leave the bookstore, wondering where I’ll go from here.
“Hi.” The golden-gray-haired woman smiles at me. “I overheard you asking for Simza. I’ve heard that name before, but I don’t think she lives in Cassadaga.”
“You have?” My face relaxes and I feel a shred of hope.
She nods. “I’m quite sure I’ve heard that name.” She leans in and whispers. “I think she talked to my dead husband.”
“Huh?” The hope I felt didn’t last too long.
“What are you telling that girl, Mavice?” her white-haired companion asks.
“Shhh…why do you have to be so cotton-pickin’ loud, Maxine?” Mavice waves her hand up and down toward her companion. She grabs my free hand and pats it. “She’s the real deal, but she goes by a different name. She’s not associated with this place. She came into town a few months ago. I’m certain she was talking to my Harold.”
“She’s a psychic?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “Not really. She talks to the dearly departed. I guess she’s a true medium. I’ve had many readings here, but not like with Madam Aishe.”
“Madam Aishe?” I ask.
Her expression hardens. “That’s her stage name, I reckon, because I recall her sister called her Simza while I was waiting for a reading. Maybe that’s the woman you’re looking for?” She asks. “Simza isn’t a real popular name.” She gave a half-smile.
“Where does she live?” I ask.
“You’re not from around here, are you dear?” She looks at my duffel bag.
“Just got into town.” I shrug.
“Well, we’ll take you there. It’s so late now.” Mavice looks up into the sky, the half-moon peeking through the shadowy clouds.
“That would be amazing.” I smile.
“What are we doing?” a puzzled Maxine asks.
“Oh, it’s on our way home, Maxine.” Mavice opens the back door for me.
The ladies were curious, asking my age, where I came from, and why I was looking for Simza. I’m sure they were trying to make me feel more welcome, but my lies kept flowing as they usually do.
I’m glad they gave me a ride, because there was no way I could have found this place.
Hanging moss covers the trailer and RV park sign. The ladies drop me off at the entrance and Mavice tells me it’s the trailer at the far end of the park with the hanging red lanterns surrounding the awning.
The crickets play their music as I walk in the darkness. One light shines down over the park office, but the lights inside aren’t on. The closed sign hangs behind the window.
Some illumination gleams through a few of the RVs and their generators buzz. One fire dies down at one of the spots, but most are empty. A few trailers seem more permanent than the others, with fresh gardening aligning their walkways. I wonder if the one in front is the grounds manager who lives here year-round since her garden sign says “Home Sweet Home”.
Nearing the dirt path that marks the last street in the park, I notice a few empty cabins. Pine trees provide a canopy over the outer edges of the park that gives it an eerie feeling without street lamps to light the darkness.
The trailer with the red lanterns glowing at the end of the street reminds me of a metal tin can. It’s one that needs to be pulled with a vehicle. The rusty, maroon
truck parked next to it is probably the companion that makes it mobile.
I drop my duffel bag on the concrete slab that houses the metal cylinder on wheels. I breathe in and out, my nerves on edge as I climb the rickety stairs to the oval door. Before I chicken out, I knock on the door and get off the stairs quickly.
Footsteps shake the trailer and the door swings out.
“Yes?” The tall, willowy woman with an elongated face squints. She wears a long flowery orange skirt that reaches her ankles and a pair of brown sandals wrap her feet. Her shirt cuts off at the midriff and silver coin chains hang around her neck, covering her bosom.
“Are you Simza Kepi?” My voice shakes.
Her jaw drops and her expression dulls. She lets out a loud breath. “There’s nothing for you here. Leave.” She slams the door.
Chapter 5
Big rain drops threaten to drown my sorrow. One hits my cheek, mixing with a tear.
“You okay, sweetie?” A soft voice carries in the wind. I turn to see a petite, stout woman smiling at me. Her smile fades. She purses her lips together. “You need a place to stay, don’t you?”
I wipe my tear away and stare at this strange, curious woman. What a uncanny thing to ask, but the duffel bag probably gave away my predicament. “I’ll be okay.”
She looks up at the dark sky and blinks into the heavy, slow drops.
“Of that, I have no doubt.” I think she winks at me since the side of her face scrunches up, but the darkness hides the gesture. “Follow me.” She turns briskly walking from the camper.
“Okay.” She leads me to one of the cabins off in the tree lines.
“I just knew I’d be needing this place ready today. I spent the entire day cleaning it for you.” “Excuse me?” This place gets weirder by the moment.
She giggles, stops, and faces me. “I’m sorry. Sometimes I say the silliest things that make no sense to people. It’s a bad habit.” She reaches her hand out toward me. “I’m Deena. I manage this park.”
I shake her hand. “Alice.”
“Hmm, I didn’t peg you for an Alice.” She turns, walks up the stairs of the first cabin, and unlocks the door.
“How did—”
“How did I know you needed a place to stay?” she asks. “Oh, it’s in the stars. I knew a stranger would come this way today seeking shelter.” She looks up through the pine trees toward the sky. “It’s a gift.”
“I don’t have a lot of money. I don’t know what you charge.” I follow her into the cabin as the rain falls faster, thankful for her gift.
“I think we’ll figure something out. I have a feeling you’ll be here for a little while.” Deena hands me the key. “I put some things in the fridge. I figured you’d be hungry.”
“Umm, thank you.” My eyes narrow. My mind flutters with confusion. “How’d ya—”
“How’d I know you’d need food? Just a hunch. I get them from time-to-time.” Deena’s mouth twists into a half-smile.
“Do you know Simz…Madam Aishe?” I put my duffel bag on the floor and the key on the kitchen counter.
She glances to the ceiling. I follow her gaze. The wooden fan looks like long leaves going slowly in circles. “She’s been here a few months, always pays her rent on time, but I try to stay away. The dead really freak me out.”
“Everything is beginning to freak me out here.”
“Well, you are in the psychic capital, you know.” She grins and walks to the door. “I’ll stop by tomorrow and check on you. We can work something out then.”
I nod. She closes the door behind her. I stare at the clean cabin. The kitchen is small with a fridge, sink, a few cabinets, and a stove with a microwave above it. The tiny living room has a sofa, loveseat, coffee table, and a small TV on a wooden stand. I walk further down a hall and see a bedroom with a double bed and dresser. The bed looks freshly made with an extra pillow laid at the end of it.
I’ve officially entered the Twilight Zone.
The early sunrise, mixed with the pine scent through the open window and the birds chirping, makes me want to stay in bed a little longer and enjoy that simple moment of carefree bliss where all my problems don’t exist.
A knock at the door makes the blissful moment evaporate into thin air.
“Rise and shine sleepyhead.” Deena’s squeaky voice permeates the cabin space. “I’ve got a treat for you.”
“Coming.” I drag myself out of bed and slip on my sandals. Before opening the door, a whiff of a decadent cinnamon reaches my nostrils. “Oh, that smells good.”
Deena stands in front of the door with a platter of moist rolls. My stomach growls.
“Yes, I baked them fresh. No sense in buying store-bought when you have a recipe this good.” She places the aluminum pan on the stove.
“Thank you.” I take one of the cabin plates out of the cupboard and help myself.
In the daylight, it’s easier to see Deena’s sharp honey eyes and her ash brown spiral curly hair. She’s probably a few inches shorter than my 5’5” stature. Her baby face makes her look younger than I think she may be.
“You’re welcome, Alice.” She smirks and it immediately makes me think she doesn’t believe that’s my name. That’s never happened before.
“Have you always been psychic?”
“Oh, I’m not psychic.” Her face brightens.
“Then how did you know I was coming?” I chomp down on the cinnamon roll and let the warm icing slither down my throat. This is the best I’ve ever had.
The corners of her eyes crinkle. “It’s my intuition. You know we have a lot more senses than the five they teach us about in school.”
“Is that so?”
She leans against the kitchen counter and places her hands on her chin. “Oh yeah. We’ve been taught to suppress what we don’t know or understand, but if you train yourself, you can learn how to use your other senses.”
She seems so sure of herself and honest.
“This is delicious, by the way.” I take another bite.
She nods. “Oh, I know.” She sits up and pats her round belly.
I chuckle.
“So, do you want the grand tour of the place?” she asks.
“Sure.” Her mood lifts my spirits...so positive, happy, and sure of herself. Her energy is contagious.
I grab the key, follow Deena out of the cabin, and lock up. Dad was a stickler for locking the front door and it rubbed off.
“It’s a small campground and it’s off season now, so there’s not a lot of people staying here.” She walks down the path past the pine tree line. “Actually, it’s off season all the time. We are a hidden gem here surrounded by woods. Not a lot of nature left in Florida, especially down south. Too many transplants from up north and such.”
“How long have you been here?” I ask.
“Oh, I’ve been here two years now, I guess. Not long.”
Simza’s silver cylinder trailer glistens under the morning sun with moisture. Her truck sits next to it, so I assume she’s home. She’s not going to get rid of me that easily.
“I moved here to get away from the city life and get back in touch with nature.” Deena points toward her trailer. “That really belongs to the owner, but he was nice enough to provide it as housing for the right manager, and that’s me.”
“Where’s the owner?”
“He lives in upstate New York. I’ve only met him once.” She kicks a pine cone off the dirt street that leads to the front of the campground. “One of those rich men who inherited his parents’ fortune. He said he didn’t know what to do with this place. Tried to sell it a few times, but no takers. Not profitable enough, he said.”
The campground is square with woods surrounding it. One dirt road leads toward the street I was dropped off last night. A small building meets the entrance with a fenced-in pool behind it. I hadn’t seen the pool in the darkness last night.
“We have laundry facilities.” Deena points toward the back of the building. “Only two was
hers and dryers, coin operated, of course.” She shrugs. “The pool is well maintained and refreshing on the hot days.”
“Looks nice.”
“Yeah, it’s a nice little place, isn’t it?” I follow her to the front door. She unlocks it. “Here’s the office, which I’m in most of the time, but I always see visitors when they come in since my trailer is not far away.”
“You saw me come in last night?”
“Yeah, I heard the car drive up.” She shuffles some papers. “You don’t need a key or anything to get into the pool area; the fence is always unlocked.”
The small office can’t be more than the size of the cabin I stayed in last night. One cooler sits in a corner stocked with soda, water, and juice. A display of candy, marshmallows, graham crackers and chips hang on the wall next to it.
“This is nice.” I see a price list written on a chalkboard behind the wooden counter.
Plain site/no-electric $20
Site with electric $30
Cabin$45
“It’s cozy to me.” Deena flips on the overhead fluorescent light. “I was thinking you can stay in the cabin for a weekly rate of $150 cash? Is that okay?”
“Really?” I point to the sign. “That’s not even four nights.”
“Well, I said cash, didn’t I?” She grins. “I need to eat too, and the owner doesn’t pay me.”
“I see.” I smile. “You’re skimming off the top.”
“Don’t go telling anyone though. I don’t do this often and not for just anyone. There’s something special about you, Alice.” She twirls her hair and squints her eyes. “I don’t know what it is about you yet, but I can tell you need to be here.”
“Well, you’ve convinced me.” I dig in my pocket, and slap down $150 for the first week. “Can I ask you about how to find a job around here?”
She grabs a piece of paper with a map on it from under the counter and circles a spot “Here’s the bus route. It stops in front of the grounds and takes you directly into town. It’s a small town, but it has character. They might have a few places you can look there.”
Magic After Dark: A Collection of Urban Fantasy and Paranormal Romance Novels Page 39