The Chained Man

September 14, 1998

Brody Powell walked through the doors of the Colliers Student Center at Ashbrook University. It was the beginning of September, but it was unseasonably cold outside. Despite the fact that he had on a thick, orange hoodie and a coat, he was still shivering. He entered the building with his teeth chattering uncontrollably. He paused just inside the door and looked around for anyone familiar.

He was a freshman at the university and there weren’t many people there he knew. He was a military brat and had spent nearly his whole life overseas. He decided on Ashbrook because most of his relatives lived in the area and he figured it would be good to have family around. Plus, Ashbrook was one of the country’s most prestigious universities and there were a lot of great job opportunities available to Ashbrook alumni.

He’d been at the university for a little over three weeks and spent most of his time going to classes, studying, or working. He thought it’d be good for him to get out. Which was why he was going to the freshmen welcome party. It was something the school did at the start of every academic year to help new students meet people. It seemed like a good idea at the time but as he checked the place out, it didn’t look very promising. There was a scattering of people here and there but overall, not a big crowd. The place was practically empty.

He walked toward the middle of the big room and spotted Travis Spencer, his tall and lanky roommate. He was dueling with cushioned weapons on a huge, yellow and red inflatable. The other guy was shorter than Travis but much bulkier. That guy looked like your classic gym nut with a bald head and an honest-to-God handlebar mustache.

Brody stood there a moment. He watched Gym Nut deal Travis a blow so hard it sent his roommate flying almost to the edge of the inflatable.

Brody laughed to himself as he watched Travis get up and shake his head. He watched his roommate get pummeled a little more until he got bored. He walked away, trying to find something that would entertain him. His eyes happened on a sign proclaiming that the “world famous Madame Toulour was giving out free Tarot card readings.” A bright red arrow on the bottom of the sign pointed the way to her. Brody shrugged his shoulders and followed it dutifully. He always wanted to talk to a psychic and the fact that it was free was enough to convince him.

The hallway brought him to a large dark room that had dozens of candles as the only light source. Brody pushed ahead uneasily, suddenly feeling like this was a bad idea.

He looked around but the psychic wasn’t in the room. The only thing he saw was her shabby table. It was in the very center of the room and was the only thing inside. The room was big too, which made the table look even more ridiculous than it already did. He ignored the sudden (and irrational) fear that made his blood run cold. He walked to the table and sat down in the empty chair in front of it.

His stupid fear surged back in, this time a lot stronger. Again, he ignored it while wondering why he was feeling so much nervousness over nothing. Instead of getting up, he stubbornly sat there while he struggled to brush away the pesky intuition that he shouldn’t be there.

He was just about successful in keeping his fear away when he heard a voice.

“Welcome, welcome,” it said. It seemed to slither through the air like a demonic creature and it ground against Brody’s nerves, giving him goose bumps.

He looked around, trying to find the person the voice belonged to (while at the same time, wishing he wouldn’t).

He found her over in a corner, where the lights of the candles couldn’t quite reach. She was coming through a simple wooden door back there.

It was hard to see her at first. She was mostly covered in dark shadows. As she walked, however, more and more detail was uncovered. He saw that she was dressed in shades of deep yet shiny purple. A black wrap covered her hair but he could still see wispy, straw-like strands of gray tumbling loose from it as she walked closer to him. Dozens of shiny gold and silver bracelets jangled on her thin wrists.

Brody had to suppress a laugh as he watched her. She looked like a walking stereotype.

As she got closer, however, he noticed that she walked in short bursts with one arm on the small of her back and the other waving back and forth in front of her like it was a guide. Her wrinkled, craggy face came into view, appearing out of the deep shadows like an evil spirit. She had a narrow and gaunt face with a hooked nose (which made her look even more like an evil hag, Brody noticed).

Eventually, the old woman made it to her chair and when she sat down and looked at him, Brody had to stop himself from almost jumping out of his seat as pure terror nearly overwhelmed him.

Madame Toulour’s eyes were blank and milky white. That, combined with all her other horror movie-esque qualities was almost enough to send him running right then and there.

He kept his cool instead and remained seated.

“You don’t have to be frightened of me, boy,” the woman rasped. Her voice sounded dry and frail and there was an odd slur tinting her words. “I won’t bite.”

Then she laughed loudly with her mouth opened wide.

She had no teeth at all.

Madame Toulour quit laughing abruptly. The room fell dead quiet, making Brody even more uncomfortable.

“Shall we start?” she inquired, tilting her head slightly to one side.

“Uh...sure, ma’am,” Brody agreed, shakily.

The old woman nodded and withdrew an old, beaten up deck of Tarot cards from a purple velvet pouch. Strange runes and glyphs were arranged in purposeful positions on the backs of them and as he stared at them, Brody could have sworn they were glowing. He turned his eyes away after only a few seconds, unable to look at them and keep his cool at the same time. The strange vibe he felt radiating off them was really freaking him out. Madame Toulour, however, just continued to smile toothlessly.

“For you, boy,” she whispered. “Draw any three, for three is all I need to see your future.”