The Power of Love: Scrying
Guess.... just guess...... (Erin Alpert)

I’d like to say hi to Robin for looking me up on the CD.  {{{{{Robin}}}}}} you give so many.... my turn!!!! {{{{collective and all other P/Ters}}}}  And to Lauren, for coming to my competition
 “Now, changing pace, we have jazz number, level three, Erin Alpert”<== Announcer  “Oh god” <== me<clap-clap-clap-clap-clap> <== Lauren “With a fan” <=== Announcer I’m so glad you could come!!!! BTW, I got first place, for those who don’t know!!!

Two weeks of having her new job had been... exciting, to say the least.  Torres didn’t  particularly care for the new uniform... gray wasn’t her color. But, now she was taking a stroll down the Promenade, and she noticed a child-like figure.  She knew it.  Dark hair, pulled into a pony-tail, and yellowish-green that held wisdom beyond her years.  Her golden earrings sparkled in the illumination of the Promenade, and the dark circles under her eyes made her look older, though she couldn’t be older then 14...... The Era.

“B’Elanna Torres, I knew you’d return,” she spoke.
“Why are you here again?”
“Come inside, I must speak to the beyond,” and she lead her into the same small room, with the same beacon lighting it up, and with the same table with two chairs, the Era now in one. But, this time, a small ball sat on the table.  It was opaque, and sat in a silver cup-like 

“What is that?” Torres asked, itching her elbow.
“You will be sleeping in a strange bed soon, but as for what this is, ‘tis a crystal ball, is used for Scrying.”
“Okay,” she watched as the child put her hands on the ball, and looked as if she was concentrating, “What are you doing?”
“Quiet,” she snapped, and soon pulled her hands off, “Do not touch it now.”
“Wait... what did you mean when I said I would be sleeping a strange bed?”
“Poor... poor B’Elanna, for she knows not of the ancient superstitions.... an itching elbow tells me where you will be sleeping soon.”
“I know you have a question, place your hand near the ball, and concentrate on it.”
“Okay,” she knew what to concentrate one... hers and Tom’s future.
The ball turned opaque, then clouds began to form. Downward in motion, and both black and orange in color.
“Negative, unfavorable outlook, danger, anger. I’m so sorry about you and Tom.”
“What? We’re perfectly happy now, nothing bad has happened.”
“Not yet, but it will.”


Legal junk. Viacom owns characters, I own story. Comments on my second section of my first real series go to