It Happened to Me: My Palm Reader Was a Murderer

By Laniel Dastres

April 26, 2015

It isn’t everyday that you can pay a small fee to have a stranger inform your life and career decisions with visions of the future. That’s why I thought I was so lucky when I found out that Renee from my office had a psychic sister who was certified—certifiably crazy! Normally, I’m not the kind of person that would go to see a psychic, but when Renee offered me a discount, I thought this was an intersection of cosmic guidance and great value I couldn’t pass up.

Her office was above a Vietnamese restaurant. As I started to climb the stairs, I felt a tug on the back of my shirt, and it was the creepy old guy who owned the restaurant! He gave me toothy smile and said, “You must not go up there!” How spooky!

I knocked on the door, and a small slit opened, exposing a beautiful pair of eyes caked in an eye shadow two shades too dark for this time of year. “Did you bring all five kilos?” She asked. I told her Renee had sent me and slipped the coupon through the mail slot; she opened the door and asked me to have a seat at the table.

Once seated, she grabbed hold of my hands and got a cloudy look in her eyes as the room filled up with smoke! Creepy, right? My coughing fit subsided and she began to convulse wildly, saying she was entering the spirit world. Sounds like a lot less fun than the Disney World!

All of the sudden, she went still, looked me dead in the eye and said, “I am seeing an old woman. Your mother perhaps, or an old teacher, or perhaps a religious figure, or a friend’s mother.” I confirmed this, telling her that my friend Mike had lost his great aunt Charlene about a year ago! There’s no way she could have known that!

She then looked at my palms. In less than a moment, her head shot up, as she whispered, “Your life line and fate line are both awfully short. Anticipate an early death.” Well there goes my 401K!

It was as she said this that I heard sirens and saw police lights outside. The Vietnamese man knocked down the door to the office, yelling, “Where is he, you monster?!” Like something out of a Hollywood movie, the closet swung open and a dead body fell out with a knife bearing my palm reader’s initials stabbed in its back.

She was convicted of second-degree murder and sentenced to 30 without parole. Next time I need career advice, I’ll ask my mom!