Short story: A prophet?

Photo by Engin Akyurt on

There is nothing in this world that does not point to the reality of magic.

It was the winter of Burpham that brought about this perfect sight, but the sight wasn’t so perfect if it happened seven months ago, but was reported as an incident that took place five minutes ago.

Perhaps it was.

These lonely bike riders didn’t know what hit them, they saw the crash, it was live. They have all the information.

But why were the police and detectives giving false claims that the crash happened much later?

They started to question everything. Whether they really had their bikes and whether someone had drugged them and told them what they needed to say to cover their tracks.

It was all so confounding.

The cold air was cruel, it made them look, as well as feel pathetic. Their cheeks appeared flushed and they quivered like rice above a booming speaker.

The trees knew no better, if anyone had asked them, the young men were just as present as they were.

That is if the locals knew much about magic, or even how the word is spelt – how much the trees knew about their secrets.

It was no news to the neighbouring houses that this driver was reported missing by his brother, and that in fact; the car was concealed in dense undergrowth.


Meanwhile back in Guildford, Ocean was unaware of what happened to her darling husband.

She had been at the bar but found herself safely home.


She stood in front a building.

It seemed so familiar to her, but it was as if she had been flown to another city.

The water came to her waist and no car was moving, nobody was in them and everything seemed strangely familiar – too familiar.

‘Cover your tracks,’ said a voice. Above, below or under, she couldn’t figure out where they were.

‘Hey! cover my tracks? what on earth are you on about?’

The voice kept silent.

She didn’t move.

Her grandmother told her that everything is as it seems. But she had a different kind of problem, she didn’t know what that meant and this was made even more confusing by the realization that even though she stood in the water, carried by the flood; she didn’t understand why her clothes was not clinging to her body and why she didn’t feel drenched by the rain that was still pouring.

It was 2am in the morning.

At least that was what the clock said, she thought.

She was seated on a chair in a lobby, closely resembling the lobby in that popular tv show, The Suite Life of Zack and Cody.

Taking her hand, was a man, quite stout. His head was rather small, well suited for a body that would be very different from his own.

‘And who might you be? Are you qualified to be using that needle?’

She was no genius, but she could tell that her organs were all shutting down.

Please consider making a payment of a small amount

You are donating because you love my content, because you want to see more of it. You are donating towards the books I will be writing and publishing. Any amount left over will be donated to a charity of my choice. I am a giver, as you are a giver of a small amount. Thank you so much, it is grately appreciated.


Published by healinghands231

She is a witch, a writer, a fiancée and a queen at healing the masses within. A 24 year old woman, based in the UK, she finds peace in the tarot, peace in the oracle. She breathes humility and a passion to help bring the art of your mind to life in a snap. Bring to her your work, create by night by day and she will be there to help you pursue like a coin displayed on a tray.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s


Tips, Tricks , How To’s , Resources

The Rambling Locksmith

"If I had only known, I would have been a locksmith." - Einstein

Frozen in the Fire

Rising up through Grace

Journey from Abused to Joy

This blog is to share my healing journey from severe childhood abuses with others, in the hopes that it will help all of us who are struggling to overcome obsolete survival skills, to experience more joy. For me this has been and continues to be an ongoing process. I hope we can share our healing journey together. It may also be helpful to those who have loved ones that have suffered similar abuses in understanding what they go through.

Tracy Brinkmann's Success Blog

thoughts to help you Think Successfully & Take Action


lives in the doldrums


Sharing My Journey of Faith And Experience


Autism-spectrum-disorder, posttraumatic stress disorder.. autoimmune.


Traveling Fashion Designers 🌼

%d bloggers like this: