Short Story – The Lovers

Tarot card, The Lovers:

Gemini – the twins,

Choice and temptation,

Union of the Head and Heart.

Fingers of listless fog creep through the dark and grime. The London air is heavy, gloomy, fetid and alive. Refined gentlemen take the streets, undaunted by the shadows and smoke from gaslights lining their murky avenues. Soggy newspapers, warning of ghastly murders in East-End, are disintegrating in the gutters. Men of rugged countenance need not fear what lurks in the dark.

A woman stands at the street corner; her tattered, faded red dress breaking through the desolate fog. ‘You look lonely, sir,’ she calls, angling herself for the moonlight to catch her generous bosom. ‘Would you like some company?’

Without question, you take her by the arm, and lead her through the narrow alleyway. Her corporation, her willingness, makes your endeavour all the more easy. When you trust you are far enough from anyone to hear or witness your depravity, you push her up to the gritty brick wall.

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Short Story: The Moon

Tarot card, The Moon:

Fears and Anxieties, Dreams and Fantasies

       Believing illusions, experiencing distortion,

              Chasing after fantasy.

*          *          *

Videl’s laugh lures me through the dark street.  The moon above bathes us in silver light, casts tall shadows, illuminates our path. The night air caresses my skin, disturbing my hair, but my body has been broken so many times I barely feel its cold bite. The air in my lungs is the only thing I am allowed to feel now. It’s the only shred of life I have left.

I know the pain that lies ahead, for I have walked this path many times before. Yet still, I follow Videl’s songlike call. I trace his footsteps up a narrow road. Serpentine, the path leads towards a house, golden light streaming through the windows. My feet crunch over pebbles and teeth, pebbles and teeth. Hairs stand on the back of my neck at the grating sound.

The front door is tall and imposing, weatherworn and flaking. Videl is nowhere to be found, but for this one moment, I am not worried about that. Instead, my mind sputters and struggles into gear, reviving my memory. This was the door to my house, when I was a real girl.

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Short Story: Two of Cups

Two of Cups – Romance Short story – Love, True, Soul – Booksie.

Tarot card, Two of Cups:

 

 A great love and/or friendship.

 Making a connection; a union, a partnership, the potential for bonding.

It is a relationship.

 

 

*          *          *

 

 We return home with winter mist beaded in our hair. Shivering from the bitter weather that has chilled us to the core of our bones, we seek refuge in my bedroom. I lead him down the hall; the faulty wiring causes the light to flicker and fade out.

‘Be careful,’ I warn, ‘or the ghosts might get you.’

I hear him faintly chuckle behind me, before I open my bedroom door. The obnoxious, yellow medical-waste container is left standing on my dresser table. When I left that morning, I had forgotten to hide it away in case I would have unexpected company.

He makes no mention of the container, and I make no move to hide it. Instead, I light a stick of incense, and fall onto my bed with him. Following habitual pattern, we rest on top of the covers, doing nothing, simply lying together.

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