Subcutaneous Magazine Fall 2016 - Page 34

neath the floorboards, like Edgar Allen Poe’s hideous heart. At this point, the practical realities of the situation began to close in on me. I had a dead old lady in my house. My house which, mind you, had been specially renovated for the express purpose of grifting old ladies. If there was any sort of police investigation I’d be going away on a murder charge, no question about it. So I did what I’d done so many times before on the carnival circuit. I packed up everything I needed and left behind everything I didn’t and skipped town with a stack of unpaid bills and legal troubles in my wake. be going away on a murder charge, no question about it. So I did what I’d done so many times before on the carnival circuit. I packed up everything I needed and left behind everything I didn’t and skipped town with a stack of unpaid bills and legal troubles in my wake. I left Mrs. Donohue in the parlor. Maybe a few years later the sheriff pulled her mummy out of the house when he came to foreclose over the property taxes. Maybe she’s there still. I wound up going back to the carnival. I never did another séance, though, or even tarot cards. Too witchy. I stuck to palm readings and horoscopes instead. Those don’t pay nearly as well, but no amount of money could ٕȁЁѼѡ$ՍѼѡɅЁɽ܁Ѡ)ȁѡЁа$ݽɭɐٕՅ$ɕѥɕݸɔչ ɹݡ)չ䁅݅䁙ɽɥ($) ЁѡӊéЁѡ($)eԁ͕$Չ͍ɥѼЁ饹́Ʌɵ9ܰ$͕Ѽɕѡ)ՙɥѱ䁽ɽ̰ͥͥѼ͕ݡЁѡɭ́ݕɔѼЁ́ȁѡаЁ)䁽$Օ́'eٔɔ$хѕɕЁѡѽɥ́ɥѕ)́ݡeٔȵѠɥ̰ȁɅ́͡ȵɽݹ́ݡѹаݡ)Ёѡȁ́ѡeٔ՝Ё͔ѡѕɱЁݥѡЁፕѥ)ѡͅѡЁѡѡȁͥѡͅ܁ѡȁٕ́ѡ($)$ݽȁӊéɕѡȁٕ́ѡЁѡܸͅ]ӊéѥѼ$ݽȁ'e͕) ɱȁȁͽѡѡЁ́ ɱݡЁeͅѼЁѼ)͔()())Ʌ)́)AѼ)=-))Qѱ耈) ɽ)Ʌ)Aѽ((0