I Ching Jukebox

By Genève Blue

I Ching Jukebox is a novel about a love lost, a Psychic Fair and weekend of lives entwined, brought together by one man's trip to visit the Fair to please his mother. Who would have known the doors this simple request would open? Come visit this Fair yourself and find out.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Sep 30, 2011
• ISBN: 9781008921122

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I Ching Jukebox

I Ching Jukebox

by Genève Blue

Notice of Copyright consists of these parts:

Copyright 2021 by Genève Blue

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

Published 2021

Printed by Lulu.com in the United States of America

978-1-008-92112-2

Imprint: Catherine M. Harris

Text copyright 2008 by Genève Blue

Cover design and I Ching Coin design is ©Catherine M. Harris | Talerocker Dreamcat Creations

‘Jukebox On White’ image is ©Wolfgang Amri | Dreamstime.com

W

ACKNOWLEGEMENTS

hile writing is by its very nature a solitary task, I cannot forget those who support me and my latest endeavours.  A book is a labour of love certainly, but it is none-the-less a laborious thing and in the many hours it takes to write and edit then edit again, format, etc., it means that there is stuff that isn’t done.  Dishes lurk in the sink unwashed, laundry loads stay in mid-process, floors are left unswept, the dog whines cross-legged at the door waiting for me to end my paragraph…you get the idea.  At the end of it all is a book which because it is self-published means that there isn’t any expert telling me this is great, what else have you got?  As a Canadian, there just aren’t that many places willing to publish these midnight feats of folly.  Oh well.

First off, I’d like to thank the reader for taking the time out of their busy day to read this.  And then I’d like to say that the ideas and beliefs in this work of fiction aren’t necessarily my own.  Fiction is exactly that, product of pure imagination and it is not my intent to offend anyone.  That being said, though, please consider this novel one of an adult subject nature and if you find swearing or violence or occult topics not your cup of tea, then this isn’t the book for you.  I make no apologies, all of my stories write themselves and these particular characters simply aren’t the most polite ones around, yet they do speak in a manner that is common to people of my and the subsequent generation.  We hear it on t.v., in movies, at bus stops, that’s just the way people are.  For those who do like this kind of thing (as I do), I hope you find it an enjoyable experience.

Getting back to the gratitude I’d like to thank my soul mate and partner who likes to hear me read what I have written and is a very good writer himself; my children who have to put up with my creative stints, and of course my family and friends both with us and departed because it takes all of you to help me have to the courage and desire to fulfill my dreams.  Bless you.

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Chapter 1

H

e couldn't hold her hand.  In chilling retrospective he sees her fingers slipping from his, her mouth a large O in a silent scream.  Of all the things in the world he could have done or should have done, this one simple thing was the most achingly haunting.  He couldn't hold her hand.

Days and nights go by after events that blow your world apart, yet sometimes, where it is said that time heals all wounds, it doesn't.  For David the simplest of events of one day gone wrong just didn't let go of his synapses; every breath he takes, every time he closes his eyes, every fearsome sleep full of nightmares it is repeated.

And so it was with great anger he greeted this idiot's question:  What would you say David, if I were to take you back, back so you could save her?

On the tip of his tongue was, Are you out of your fucking mind??? but he didn't say that.  He couldn't.  What if there were an off chance that this fool did actually have something that could do that.  He listened to Coast to

Coast Radio.  He knew there were people out there, scientists, who honestly believe that the time space continuum is actually more of an ocean, everything swirling around.  Hell, he had even read Stephen Hawking's book A Brief History of Time and when he did he believed that time travel might just be possible.  That parallel universes perhaps weren't just the stuff of science fiction writers.

That was before all of this though, and before reality broke through his very pleasant glass house life.  So why should some shyster have the answer to his greatest wish?  Sounded like some movie starring Ashton Kurstner or something.  No, he'd just have to keep walking.

Sandra wants you to.  She told me.

David stopped, turned slowly to face the man, staring down into his pale blue eyes.  What did you just say?  He asked, in a deep quiet voice.

Her name was, IS, Sandra and she would like you to help her if you can.  She's still here.  If I take you back, she can still be here.  Some things are not predestined.  This I know.

If you know so damned much, Mister, David said, then tell me this.  What does she look like?  What is her nickname? How old is she?  And then quietly, Where is she?

The old man laughed.  So many questions!  So will you sit down and talk with me?  I am Toduko the Seer.  Here is my card.

He handed David a business card, printed from one of those freebie business card sites (and a mental note, he must have an American address, these cards aren't available to Canadians), on it was a pentagram, and oddly, a yellow happy face with a hand holding a crystal ball.

You know, Mister, - Toduko, the man corrected him - you know, Toduko, this is all very interesting and I'm sure you're just great but I came to this Psychic Fair with my mother.  She's the one interested in this hobledygobble stuff. Now I don't know where you got the name Sandra from, though it is common enough to guess and I suppose if you guess it enough somebody is going to respond, either that or my mother said something, but I don't have any money on me, I wouldn't spend it on this if I did, this is worse than wasting it on lottery tickets.  Go bother somebody else.  He flipped the business card back at him.

Toduko nodded and smiled.  As David turned away, he slipped the business card into his back pocket, and he said, She was 5 feet 6 inches tall.  She had light brown hair, long, was very thin, smoked sometimes and her nickname was Sandie.

David kept walking.

She liked to say that it was Sandie with a 'T' to see the reaction!  Toduko called out.

What? David gasped slightly, and as he was about to turn and go back his mother grabbed his arm.

David, come here, you have to see this!  She said and pulled him away. 

She led him through a series of stands, some more crowded than others, past incense burning and light bulbs flashing and printers shusht-shushting astrology charts and stuff like that until they arrived at a booth where a woman was seated at a table.  She was dressed up in a long purple robe and wore ribbons in her long black hair.  At first glance he thought she might be pretty if she weren't so fucking weird.  She waved him to sit down with long blood red fingernails.

She reads auras! His mother exclaimed happily.  She had been hoping to find someone that did kirulean photographs, but the people here charged $35 a photo so she was happy indeed to have someone who could just tell her what was going on with her aura. 

Mom, he said, you know I don't like this stuff, I'm only here for you.  You do it.

No, no you must have yours done!

"Mom, I have enough for parking and a cup of coffee and that's it. 

Tomorrow is payday.  You do it."

Just because I'm cheap, she said, doesn't mean I'm broke.  This is my treat.  It's interesting.  Honestly.  I even brought a blank tape for you just in case I found somebody good.  I think she's good.  Give her a chance.  And with that she handed the woman a cassette tape to record the session.

He thought about how much this reading must be costing, and how that would probably be paying a bill if he had it.  The woman put the cassette tape in her tape recorder, pressed the record button, then lit some leaves in a bowl. 

It's sage, she said, it clears the air.

Smells nice, David told her.  He was lying.  He hated the smell of sage, it reminded him of too many dry turkeys on Thanksgiving and Christmas.  On the other hand, burning it wasn't quite so bad as sage permeated with grease and yams and other assorted foods intermingled.

She smiled at him.  He thought she had the most beautiful sapphire blue eyes he'd ever seen, and when he looked in them it seemed for a moment like he could drown in their depths. 

She picked up his left hand and very gently turned it over, studying the lines.  Then she did the same with the right hand.  When she laid it back down she gave him just the barest hint of a squeeze.  She knew.  She knew what he was thinking.  That couldn't be good.

She gave a slight giggle and said, So, your name is David?  What is your birth date and place and time if you know it - please just write it down here on this piece of paper.  She tore off a piece of notepaper that was a give away from some company that handles freight.  Looking at the slogan he wondered how a girl like her got a pad of paper like that.  It just seemed so incongruous.

She took the slip of paper.  Ah, Mr. Gemini.  You have a Pisces moon and an Aries Venus.  You like your women beautiful and fiery.  Again she giggled.

His mother gripped his shoulder as she stood behind him.  The psychic noticed this, looked at David, then said to his mother, Joan dear you must go sit down.  When you are in his aura, I cannot read him very well, it is clouded.

It was as though his mother had put her hand on a hot stove.  She quickly retreated to a chair in the corner of the psychic's area.  David asked her what her name is.

My name is Donna, she replied.

He considered this for a moment while she flipped through a well-worn book and glanced at his hands a couple more times.  Donna.  A little bit of a let down, that.  She should have been something exotic, or ethnic or something.  But no.  Just plain Donna.

Without looking up, she smiled shyly and whispered to him, Donna means 'lady' that's all.  Nothing more, just lady.

Okay, that could have been a bit creepy right there.  But he thought, no, it is not impossible that her train of thought would have followed his.  Besides, these so-called psychic people are basically trained observers.  He must have flinched an eyebrow or something.

He watched people go by as she flipped through the book and shuffled some cards, then she lit a white candle and tossed some more dried sage into the bowl.  It flared up a bit.

He wondered about the people walking by.  Some seemed so sad, others, visibly ill.  Still others like they were searching for somebody to tell them that everything is going to be alright someday soon.  That their old dog won't die, that they will actually get a promotion, that the perfect lover is just waiting breathlessly around the next corner, and in his gut he felt a tightening because this parade of humanity was both sad and pathetic and silly, all at once.

Donna cleared her throat. So tell me David, she said, have you never bought a lottery ticket?

He looked at her quizzically.  Of course.  Who hasn't at least once?

These people here, they are playing life's lottery.  Granted, many are losing and it is their only hope, but others, you know, they just want to hear a kind word.  Is that what you want David?  Do you want a kind word?

No, I, he was at a loss for words.  I think you better give me whatever my mother paid you for.

Yes sir! she said with one corner of her mouth in a smile. 

Her crooked smile angered him.  You're making fun of me, this whole thing is a crock of shit.  You know it, I know it, why don't you tell my mother that and she can keep her money.  She's 60 you know and she's still working and will be 'till 65.  You, you just take people's money and feed them bullroar and expect us to believe you and you know what I don't like?  I don't like that little old ladies, and lonely people, and sick people, they come to you and just sit there and say whatever and you don't care, but they, they hang on your every word for eff's sake and some people really do believe it and then what happens when it doesn't come true?  Then what?  Do you care?

Her eyes darkened a little but she didn't flinch.  She just sighed.  "I will do what your mother paid me for.  My words will be on tape.  You can keep the tape, you can burn it, you can mail it to starving kids in Timbuktu, I don't bloody well care.  But I will do what I promised.  Heck, you may even listen to the tape.

  Keep it and I'll bet you in a few months you'll be surprised."

Here's a thing.  I'm saying the date right now.  September 23rd, 2005.  It is 3:15 p.m. and we are at a Psychic Fair.  This lady is Donna.  If Donna is the real thing she will give me her card and I will keep this tape and in some period of time I will listen to it and if it is bullcrap I will copy it, mail it back to Donna and write an article for the newspaper.  How about that?

Which newspaper, I'll be curious to read it.  Especially since I don't think you are a writer.

Oh, the Trumpet.  They'd publish something like this.

I'll bet they would.  So David, we're wasting time here but since you are so sceptical and I don't have appointments for another hour, how about we just keep going until there's nothing more to say.  No extra charge.

Sure.  How about for free?

David, as I am sure you must understand, this is my vocation.  I have to eat too.  I may be able to see things you cannot, but I am a living thing and I do need to sustain myself.  So, if you are quite ready to listen, I will be happy to talk to you now.

He shrugged.  Go ahead.  Shoot.

She passed her hands from the top of his head down by his ears,