Throwback Thursday: Madame Sylvie’s Three Rules on Speaking for the Dead

Each week we are taking a look back at the authors, stories, and poems that captivated us in 2019. Today we offer you an excerpt from ‘Madame Sylvie’s Three Rules on How to Speak for the Dead’ by Susan Pieters, from Issue 21, Winter 2019. 

Madame Sylvie’s Three Rules on How to Speak for the Dead

My trailer door opens, letting in a burst of carnival noise. The ride next door must be dropping; the screams of teenagers sound like they’re inside my living room. Next year I’ve got ask for a spot farther from Hell’s Gate; as symbolic as the juxtaposition is, I get tired of listening to Dire Straits on the loudspeakers.

A new customer stands at the door. At least I hope she’s going to be a customer. She’s backlit by a setting sun. I get a good look at her before her eyes adjust to the trailer’s dim interior. Her skin is very dark and her close-cropped hair is greying at the temples. Her shoulders slump like life has defeated her. The baggy jeans bind at the waist.

She decides to step inside. The metal door closes, but the smell of popcorn now mingles with my bergamot incense.

I rise to greet her. My gold-plated necklaces hang forward as I bow. “Welcome to the House of Fortune. I’m Madame Sylvie.”

Her posture straightens. It’s funny how Canadians always stand taller when you bow to them. You’d think they’d tilt forward. 

“Hello, I’m Mary.” She reaches out for a handshake. Her grip is firm, her hands toughened; she must work hard. Her left hand stays tight around her purse, holding it protected at her side. She wears a plain gold wedding band.

I glance down as I release her hand. Her shoes have seen better days. I adjust my usual price even further downwards. “Would you like your fortune told, Mary? Please have a seat, and I’ll lay out the cards.” I gesture to the stack of tarot on the table, although I generally use them for giggling young ladies inquiring about love and marriage. The conclusions the girls draw from the pictures are highly amusing.

She shakes her head no, and looks at the bookshelf and my rows of old paperbacks. Most people never notice them. “I was told that you can talk to ghosts.”

I finger my gold bangles. “Of course Madame Sylvie can talk to ghosts.” I pause. “Are you being haunted?”

“Haunted?” Mary looks surprised.

“By a ghost?”

“No. I mean, not by a ghost. I mean, I wanted to talk to a ghost.” 

“Talk to a ghost, or to someone who has passed on to the other side? They’re not the same.” 

Mary looks at me like the difference has never occurred to her. “Oh, no, I just want to talk to someone who’s dead.”

To find out what happens next, pick up your copy of Issue 21, Winter  2019 here!

Susan Pieters is a founding editor at Pulp Literature Press. Her stories range from high-end literary to the weirdly fantastical; this story tries to put a foot in both camps, much as this magazine endeavours to cross genres. Sue swears she’s never visited to a fortune-teller herself but has always wanted to have a go. Hasn’t everyone? For more of Sue’s stories, find Tesseracts 20: Compostela, pick up any issue of Pulp Literature, or check out her forthcoming story in Analog.