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Black gipsy eyes,
older than time itself, peer at me as the Dealer of Destiny shuffles the
cards of my life. She gestures.
I turn the top card
face up:
“The Tower”
I sit on a white
horse and feel the enormous weight of my lance as the foolish enemy
attack from downhill. Spurring my steed into a reckless gallop, I wreak
havoc on these infidels who believe they can challenge my right to the
throne. The screams of the dying is an exquisite operetta, and my lance
is a baton. My horse turns insane with the smell of blood, and dies in a
dancing fit of ecstasy
A waft of incense
turns my brain into a sideshow.
I turn another
card:
“Justice”
The gavel falls
in time to the toll of the cracked church bell. Crimes against the
state. The jury is a chorus line of skeletons. They dance the guilty
verdict for the packed courtroom. Penalty: Locked in a mask – for life.
I can’t breath, I can’t talk, I can only scream in the darkness
Her purple shawl
turns into a dragon that flies at me with magenta breath. I wilt under
the flame of truth, and turn another card:
“The Lovers”
Running at full
speed in ink blackness, I know the penalty for a wrong turn in these
forbidden catacombs. I choose the left path, and the silken web of
deceit clings to me like a drowning leper. I can hear the fangs being
sharpened for the feast. The rustle of feet coming closer paralyzes my
throat. The spider takes me in an eternal embrace and we kiss
I turn a card:
“The High
Priestess”
I wither like a
moonflower under her gaze. I ask why? with my eyes, but her stare
remains fixed on the sun, and I know she is blind. Her robe falls to the
ground and I see the skull tattooed on her thigh. Her naked body is a
shrine, and I walk to the altar of penance. I kneel in obeisance to my
nemesis, and bury my soul in her memory
Another card:
“The King of Cups”
How can they
know of the truth? My secret beliefs and wishes? I look at the dealer,
and her eyes turn into ravens and flutter to the mantle, staring at me
with a ravenous longing. She laughs, and the sound is the hounds of hell
on the scent of a lost soul
Feeling ill, I
shuffle the entire pack, hoping for a friendly card:
“Temperance”
again:
“The Wheel of
Fortune”
last chance:
“Judgment”
I sit on the
stones and watch the pieces of the Universe come together in a traffic
jam of creation. At last I realize the answer, yet I also know something
more: it’s too late to know the answer.
One card remains:
The hag cackles
and her hands turn into poisonous crabs that leap at my neck, howling
like a typhoon for blood. My concrete heart falls from my chest and
smites the crystal, shattering it into a billion stars that revolve
around what is left of my soul
As my eyes close
for the final time the divine wind cauterizes the scene and I glimpse
the last card of the tarot:
“The Fool”
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