The shadows of twilight danced across the desert, stretching
its fingers to the Mystic Pool of Mazenderan. A tall, hooded figure shrouded in a
black robe glided into the gardens
of Mitra, the Seer. It wore the hood
pulled up around its face so that only the yellow glint of its eyes seemed
visible. The Seer knelt by the pool,
disturbing the water when the dark shape overshadowed her.
 
Mitra cast her lovely eyes upward to meet the glowing orbs. She gathered her robe
around her and shivered
as she offered the dark figure a seat by the pool, which it accepted.
 
“I know why you’ve come. You want to know your future,” she spoke with a delicate
Persian
accent. Looking back at the pool she
continued to stir the water with her hand. When she stopped, the water swirled into
a ghostly white mist reaching
its tendrils out from the pool, which trapped it.
 
When the center of the mist dispersed the image of a young
woman in her late teens appeared. She
dressed in clothes far different from their time, jeans and a T-shirt. Her soft
brown hair cut in layers gently
framed her face, bringing out the sparkle in her dark flashing eyes. She laughed
and talked to four other young
people about her age, two males and two females.
 
“How very strange! I
seetwo separate, yet intertwining
destinies running parallel to each other. This woman, called Mae, will act as a major
part of both sides of your future. She will give you what you desire, to be
loved for who and what you are,” the Seer started to disturb the vision, but a
skeletal hand stopped her. Its touch
felt shockingly cold, sending chills through her beautiful shapely body,
frightening her nearly to death. 
 
“You want to see more of this woman?” The dark figure nodded its head, so Mitra
continued. “She comes from another time
and space. She lives in our future, yet
knows you and everything about you.”
 
The vision in the pool showed Mae and her friends watching a
movie, “The Phantom of the Opera” musical film. Even though they heard no sound,
the movement depicted deep gothic
romance. 
 
“I’m not sure how, but this picture moves, telling your
story.” A bony finger tapped the side of
the pool. The Seer paused, trying to
understand what it wanted. It tapped
again and then pointed to the vision.
 
“Oh, you want to know how to meet her?” The tapping continued. “I cannot tell all
things. Remember, you can change the future. Without her, your second destiny will
become
final; one of intense unrequited love, unfulfilled desire, hate, and certain
death.” Mitra flinched at the icy, death-like touch of the skeletal hand. 
 
“Do you want to see the second woman in your future?” The hooded head nodded. 
Mitra continued as she passed her hand over
the pool. White vapors covered the
vision and dispersed with a new one. A
beautiful young woman in her late teens, with dark cascading curls stood on the
stage of a grand theatre. With a curtsey
and a smile she accepted the applause for some type of performance.
 
“They call her Christine. She becomes the death from which you cannot escape and
she, too, is a
major part of both futures, but she will never love you. Remember, you cannot
change history,” Mitra shivered again. The shrouded figure appeared confused. What
history could he not change? 
 
Being in the presence of such a foreboding creature and
having to tell it such horrible news made the Seer turn cold and knots of
anxiety formed in her stomach. She
wanted to jump up and flee into the night screaming, but the creature’s eyes
gave her second thoughts. It could snap
her in two with its bony hands as it had done so many others in the past.
 
The skeletal hand grabbed her arm. Its angry grip felt like a vice. The
excruciating pain brought her to the
ground screaming and begging for her life, reminding the monster she only
prophesied what came from Allah. 
 
After a moment or so to ponder this, it released her
arm. She fell to the ground gasping from
the damage caused to her now black and blue limb. Again a skeletal finger tapped on
the edge of
the pool.
 
Mitra rolled over, holding her damaged arm, gasping, and
biting her lip, trying not to anger the creature anymore by screaming. The tapping
continued until she passed a
shaky hand over the pool. 
 
Visions of both young women appeared. The one entwined in a lover’s embrace with
the creature, whose form appeared dark and blurred, while the other, wept over
a still dark blur lying prostrate by a fountain.
 
The golden orbs blazing within the hood resembled an artists’
concept of the Grim Reaper. Mitra buried
her face into the ground, sobbing and pleading for her life, as she cradled her
throbbing arm. No longer could she stand
to look into its eyes. Her body trembled
until she nearly had heart failure.
 
The dark figure arose, and melted into the night to
contemplate its fate and the meaning of ‘you
cannot change history’ and ‘you havetwo separate, yet intertwining destinies
running parallel to each other.’