@polarstar Because I know how you miss my novels, I wrote one just for you. Here goes.
Polarstar/Catherines had tried them all—every so-called gifted psychic, every renowned tarot reader, every mystic with a glowing reputation. And they were gifted. She had watched in frustration as their predictions came true for others, time and time again. A woman in a waiting room once gushed about how the psychic had predicted her husband’s miraculous job offer. A coworker swore that after a reading, she met the love of her life exactly as foretold. Even strangers on forums raved about how their readings had led to life-changing events.
But for her? Nothing. Every glowing prophecy she received—every promise of success, love, or happiness—amounted to nothing. She followed their guidance to the letter, waited for fate to turn in her favor, but her life remained dull, frustrating, and unbearably stagnant. The universe had made its choice: she was an afterthought, a cosmic mistake, a joke in fate’s cruel sense of humor. And she was pissed.
So she took her rage to the only place she had any power—psychic review forums. There, hidden behind a screen, she could spit venom with impunity. She crafted scathing, meticulous reviews, tearing apart every psychic she had ever visited. “SCAMMERS,” she’d write. “They tell you what you want to hear, but when NOTHING happens, they just say ‘energy shifts’ or some nonsense. They're all SCAMMERS! They should be JAILED!” She mocked people who left glowing testimonials, accusing them of being gullible or, worse, paid shills. If she couldn’t have happiness, she’d at least ruin someone else’s belief in it.
At first, it felt good—powerful—to tear down the psychics and their foolish followers. But the more she posted, the emptier she felt. No matter how many people she discouraged, no matter how much doubt she sowed, her own life never changed. The psychics still predicted a bright future for her, and reality still refused to deliver. Deep down, a small voice whispered that maybe the problem wasn’t the psychics, or even fate itself.
Maybe the universe wasn’t broken. Maybe she was.
You're welcome.
