Kibo

he Bad Fortune Teller

  Kibo

  D. D. Riessen

  Cover design: D. D. Riessen

  Copyright 2015

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  The Bad Fortune Teller

  Kibo

  Marsi passed by the sign every day on her way to the park. She often wondered if someone could actually see into the future. Wouldn’t that be something? But, since she had no money for such things, she could only wonder.

  Madame Nuage: Seer of Destiny

  She had seen people come and go and, on occasion, had seen return customers. Was that because Madame Nuage was right? Or wrong?

  There was really no way to know. Peeking in through the window, she could see that the room was small and had only one chair in front of Madame Nuage’s table. Her presence would certainly be an intrusion into the paying customer’s privacy.

  But last night’s events made her change her mind. While she was sleeping, someone had invaded her tiny space in the alley and stolen all of the cans and bottles she’d been collecting. That was supposed to be money for the next week’s food.

  She stuffed all of her possessions, a change of clothes, a jacket, two hats, a pan with no lid, two cups that sometimes stuck together so she couldn’t get them apart, a half bottle of cheap rum, several plastic forks and knives and one big metal spoon, into a trash bag, placed it on top of her blanket and parked her shopping cart in front of the window where she could keep an eye on it.

  Madame Nuage waited until Marsi, with a timid smile, seated herself, and then motioned that she would be right back. She returned with some bread, butter, two different kinds of jam and some hot tea.

  Madame Nuage settled back into her chair, wiping her hands on a napkin. She fiddled with her beads, twisted her rings and quietly watched Marsi spread jam on her third piece of bread. “You have family.”

  “Yes. A brother who…,”

  Madame Nuage held up her hand. “Don’t tell me. I tell you. You do not see him often.”

  “Twenty years.”

  “He is successful.”

  “Yes, very respected in his field and…,”

  “It doesn’t matter. Ask him if you can stay while you reinvent your life.”

  “He would never allow that. It would…,”

  “He will send you money. Your destiny is to go away.”

  “To where?”

  “That, I cannot see.”

  “I don’t know how to drive. And I don’t want to fly.”

  “It’s not about what you can’t do. It’s about what you can. I see some kind of great adventure in your future. And, if you make it through, a bright life on the other side.”

  “If I make it through?”

  “We never know if we’re going to make it through, any of us.” Madame Nuage smiled. “So, I can always say that. But, whatever that bright thing is, it’s linked to the adventure.”

  “I don’t like adventure. That’s my every day.”

  “You think now you have adventure? No. There’s more coming.”

  “I don’t want that.”

  “You have no choice. It’s your destiny.”

  Before being chased out of the area, Marsi used to live over by the marina, her grocery cart always full of cans and bottles and other redeemable things. She loved the fresh salty air, the sounds of the halyards hitting against the masts when the wind passed through, the constant chatter of the gulls and the sounds of the water splashing up through the rocks.

  So when her brother sent money, Marsi bought new clothes, rented a hotel room, freshened up, and went down to the marina to look at boats. One caught her eye, not too big, not too little, had a nice galley, solar power and not too much wood to take care of. Her name was Kibo. Asking about the name, she was told Kibo meant hope. Marsi bought the boat on the spot.

  She did not know how to sail, but bought a book that claimed it could teach her in just a few easy lessons. She took a Coast Guard class to learn about rules of the road, taught herself how to start and stop the engine, and learned how to put the boat in forward and reverse.

  Gino, a fellow resident at the dock, took an interest in Marsi’s desire to learn and, while showing her what he knew, started a blog to record her progress. “People might be interested in this. You never know.”

  Getting braver by the day, Marsi eventually untied from the dock and motored out into the harbor. How wonderful it was to be free of land and people and noise and all of the things that land-bound inhabitants have to deal with. People on other boats waved as they passed by. Marsi happily waved back.

  But then, the engine stopped. Checking the gauge, Marsi discovered that she was out of fuel and, drifting, realized that the tide was going out. She hadn’t learned how to use the radio yet and was too embarrassed to turn it on and call for help.

  She raised the sails, but the wind was blowing out to sea and she hadn’t learned about sailing against the wind yet. Reluctantly, she sailed into the sunset.

  Daylight…, no land in sight. Marsi, going to the radio to call for help, noticed that a mama whale and her baby were swimming up to join her. Forgetting to call, they traveled together most of the day. Marsi, began to relax into her new role. Using Gino’s camera, she recorded the whales, the boat, and herself in it.

  Gino didn’t report her absence because Marsi had always talked about going away, even though she never said where. He didn’t think she was ready, but admired her spunk. Checking her blog, he saw her pictures of the whales and of herself beaming with joy…, and that she had thousands of followers.

  But, way out at sea, a sudden storm passed through and blew Marsi off course, not that she had one.

  The next morning, drifting across a calm, glassy sea, Marsi heard a rumbling noise coming from beneath the boat…, very disturbing. Leaning over the side, she peered into the dark water. Nothing.

  A few minutes later, waves bubbled up from below as a rumbling sound filled the air, sounding like an earthquake. Marsi recorded the phenomena with Gino’s camera and then checked the depth gauge. Nothing down there for the first sixty feet.

  More shaking. Marsi figured there was nothing she could do about it, so she popped a cork on a bottle of wine, got some cheese and crackers and went topside to get a better view.

  Minutes later, the depth gauge alarm went off, indicating that she was about to hit bottom.

  Up came the rocks, wedging Kibo between two chunks of ocean floor, along with flapping fish and slithering things and seaweed and kelp and fishing line, everything wanting to be back in the water, but now finding itself rising uncomfortably upward.

  Marsi, camera in one hand and glass of wine in the other, recorded the event, cussing loudly in the background, things like, “Holy bleep!” and “Oh my bleeping, bleep!”

  Her blog was now attracting millions, the whole world, maybe.

  When things calmed down a bit, Marsi climbed down the ladder mounted to the transom of her boat, slipped and stumbled far enough away to get a couple of good shots and then stood drunkenly in front of the camera with Kibo in the background, and said, “Welcome to the Island of Kibo. It’s a miracle!”

  No legal grounds to contest her claim. Kibo was in international waters and Marsi was the first one there. She had a million witnesses and everyone loved the idea of an island of hope.

  The island grew larger by the day. Supplies were brought in, communications established, housing built. It was a tourist attraction. Everyone wanted to visit the island of hope.

  Governments took little official notice until the island grew large enough to accommodate an airfield, strategically located.
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  Marsi was inundated with calls from around the world, visits from important people representing powerful nations, commercial giants bringing innovative, money making ideas, and all of the other strange kinds of things that happen when someone else wants something that you have.

  Marsi, tempted to just sell the darn thing, was happier with her grocery cart. As much as she loved her little island, it wasn’t worth all of the trouble. Sell it. Take the money and go back to the marina. She’d be comfortable for the rest of her life.

  But then the problem would be that it would become a military thing for one country or another until it was finally blown out of the sea. No. That wasn’t fair to the island or to her millions of viewers. Frustrated, she contacted Madame Nuage.

  “Declare your island as neutral and private. Visits by appointment only.”

  “I’d have a million people applying.”

  “Have a lottery. Decide how many you’re comfortable with and how often you want them to come and go.”

  “And the diplomats?”

  “Only in pairs from opposite sides of any issue, with their families so they can get to know each other. And, just for good measure, each has to cook for the other. Make them stay a few days.” Madame Nuage laughed. “I’m charging you double for this, Marsi. Normally, I don’t say what to do.”

  And so it came to be that the food of one culture was embraced by the other. Wives, and even their husbands who liked to cook, exchanged recipes and tips on how to prepare the best sauces and make the best meals.

  It was discovered that if you know how someone cooks, you have a better insight as to how they think. This led to a better understanding of other points of view and quicker resolutions to common problems as these diplomats returned to work from a week at the Island of Hope. Everybody was a little happier. The idea spread.

  And, during that time, their kids competed in various video games, played sports, shared music and art and basically discovered that they liked each other. Everybody was getting connected.

  Kibo, Marsi’s boat, became an observation tower on top of the island, owned and maintained by the Nature Conservancy. Marsi bought herself a slightly larger boat, named to be withheld so that she can keep her privacy, something a little more comfortable for two, and asked Gino if he’d like to go for a sail.

  Last seen, they were heading into the sunset.

  The Bad Fortune Teller # 1 - Ernie’s Great Adventure

  The Bad Fortune Teller # 2 – Bill’s Bricks

  The Bad Fortune Teller # 3 – Melvin and the Mud Daubers

  The Bad Fortune Teller # 4 – Harry, Ted and Gary

  The Bad Fortune Teller # 5 – Kibo

  Dave’s work revels with the fanciful, ponders the inscrutable and enigmatic, and examines the human character.

  To read other stories by D. D. Riessen, please visit:

  D. D. Riessen

  To hear audio readings of these works by the author, or to learn about the history behind the stories, please visit his website at:

  https://www.ddriessen.com/

  I appreciate your comments. I always strive to make each story the best that it can be, and I love that you take the time to read them.

  This is my passion.

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