Sisters’ Psychosis Services

Fidgeting, frolicking, fighting crows. The three sisters each indulged, or perhaps, shifted about uncomfortably in their seemingly vapid tasks.

"What are you fighting off those crows for?" inquired Nona.

Morta, drenched in sweat and bird claw wounds, appeared exasperated. She shook her fists with a broom in grasp, and said, "It irks me when ugly birds with small lifespans come clamouring about my cloak."

"Yer right. Mortals keep sayin' they symbolise something of Lucifer or some nonsense," said Decima as she joined in.

"Oh, you have it all mixed up! They worship Lucifer now."

"Pfft! What do m-m-mortals even know? Just as insignificant as crows, those parasites."

"We are at their mercy, sister."

"Innit? They appear to be nonchalant about everything."

"Parasites, I t-tell you!" exclaimed Morta.

Her shuddering growl echoed across the paint-stained tapestries, gypsie jewellery, and an out-of-place chandelier. Nona and Decima looked at each other, very much indifferent to their sister's outburst. They turned their attention back to weaving and measuring threads until the three sisters overheard the door open.

The man behind the door examined the interior of the toasty room, lit only by sunset lamps.

"Is this Sisters' Psychosis Services?" asked the man, despite catching no sight of life.

The sisters were overcome with jubilation.

"A visitor?" they exclaimed in unison.

"Come on in, sir," greeted Nona.

"Would ye like ye palm read, son?" followed Decima.

"P-perhaps, know your f-fate," said Morta.

"Be aware of the future?"

"Settle in with crisps and biscuits, perhaps?"

"Or feast on a cup of tea?"

The sisters circled the man like birds circling their prey. Ready to stab at the helpless creature as they watched him slowly give in. Before the man could say anything else, they had his palm in their wrinkly hands.

Morta winced at the sight, covering her eyes as she cried out. Nona and Decima, on the other hand, glared at the lines. Decima shifted her gaze between the man and his hand.

Her eyebrows furled. Nona was equally dumbfounded.

She looked up and snapped at the man

"What secrets do you hold, sir?" she asked with gleaming eyes.

The man let out a whimper. His eyes bolted across the sisters. His seafoam shirt was soaked in sweat as he let out heavy breaths.

"I don't know! I don't know!"  

Nona growled at him.

"I'm just here to give you mail," he said.

Morta had been pressing down on his palms but let go at the postman's words. The awe in her eyes waved off.

"Leave, parasite!" exclaimed Morta.

"Who's that blabbering blusterous mail for, anyway?"

"It's from father," said Decima.

The waning curiosity returned. It pulled the three sisters together. They had their eyes glued as Decima peeled off the envelope and carefully reached for the letter.

"I hope all me girls all well, weaving away and settling mere mortals' fates. Anyway, I need ye all to cut some lives short. Please maintain discretion in your replies as I will not be disclosing the reason for my request.

Your Loving Father,

Zeus."

Abir Hossain is a failed SoundCloud Rapper. Tell him you too can't find anything to rhyme oranges with at fb/abir.hossain.19