Bethany, the psychic, smooths her scarf and welcomes the group with a practiced smile. The atmosphere is thick with curiosity and skepticism; eyes dart nervously between the shimmering crystal ball and the stack of spiritual cards. The air is charged, as if the very walls are listening.
"Let us begin, and may the spirits guide us tonight," she intones, her voice soft but confident.
The guests lean forward as Bethany shuffles the spiritual cards, her eyes darting from face to face. The Ouija board sits ominously in the center, its planchette resting still. The crystal ball glimmers, reflecting anxious faces and trembling hands.
"Is there anybody the spirits wish to speak to tonight?" she asks, voice trembling as the curtain suddenly billows from an unseen wind.
Spectators gasp as Bethany’s mannerisms change. Her speech is cryptic, touching on challenges, fortune, and death with chilling precision. The apartment feels smaller, as if pressed by invisible forces, and the scent of jasmine turns suddenly sour.
"You must heed these warnings, for the world beyond death is never far," the spirit intones, leaving the audience pale and silent.
She locks every window, trying to dispel the lingering dread. Alone in her apartment, she wonders if she truly possesses the gifts she claims. The quiet is oppressive; the ticking clock sounds louder than usual.
"Just a good night’s work," she whispers to herself, slipping under her covers.
At the foot of her bed, ghostly figures materialize, their faces twisted in disappointment and anger. The room quakes, bedclothes fly, and Bethany is swept into a spectral whirlwind. The ghosts accuse her of deception, of blocking messages between loved ones and the dead.
Ghost Collective: "Bethany, you have cheated us for the last time. You do not truly believe, and we do not believe in your antics."
Screams of lost souls echo as Bethany realizes the consequence of her shallow readings. Faces of those wronged by Alan and Francis flash before her, their voices a cacophony of anguish. Bethany covers her ears, pleading for forgiveness, her own spirit fraying at the edges.
"Please forgive me! Please!" she cries, the room plunging into silence as she awakens, breathless and terrified.
Twice more, the ghosts return, their warnings growing darker—her future a maze of isolation, ill health, and fear. Unable to bear the torment, Bethany cancels her appointments and seeks solace from her own mentor.
Doreen: "You must cleanse yourself, Bethany. Only then will the spirits rest."
She returns to her work, but every night brings new terror. On the third night, exhausted, Bethany falls asleep in her chair. The apartment erupts with a roar, and two angels appear—one resplendent and serene, the other shadowed and menacing.
Good Angel: "It’s time you come with us, Bethany."
Evil Angel: "No, you belong to us now."
The morning is quiet, the air fresh. Bethany feels the weight of the spirits but also their guidance, a newfound strength in her chest. She prepares for her next séance, determined to honor the truth of the spiritual world.
She no longer relies solely on tools—tea leaves, crystal balls, or cards. Instead, she listens to the spirits themselves, their presence a constant reminder of her responsibility. The ghosts become her allies, guiding her readings and protecting her conscience.
"Tonight, we honor not just the rituals, but the spirits who walk among us," Bethany declares, a true believer at last.
