Who we are
She runs.
She runs faster that she ever has, and she runs further than she has ever done. She paid no heed to her shoes giving up against the ground, being sent flying from the soles of her feet and she ignored the pain as she ran over rocks and the glass on the street.
She has to run. She must run.
But she's not running hard enough.
A tarot anthology
A Tarot Anthology: 0. The Fool
November 11, 2006 at 4:52 am
It was time.
She knew it the same way one feels the presence of another. There was that pricking on the skin, the restlessness in her Self. And so she stood, gathered her Essence, cast her Sight. And thus she saw the many paths that had been laid before her.
Now, it was up to her to pick one.
It was up to her to make the right choice.
But it will be fine, for all roads lead to the same place.
… don’t they?
A Tarot Anthology: 1. The Magician>
November 11, 2006 at 5:08 am
Warmth…
That was what she registered, in the creature’s mind. Warmth, and love. And muted, so much more muted, was pain.
She watched as the hamster nuzzled each of her children with a protective air, nuzzling, indeed, with intent to calm and soothe. The newborn wriggled with satisfied comfort, seeking its’ mother’s teats so it may feed.
A sudden clip of sharp white teeth, and the newborn wriggled no more.
She watched as the once-mother fed.
Warmth.
Love.
Pain.
A Tarot Anthology: II. The Seer
November 11, 2006 at 5:45 am
People think they forget.
People think that just because they swim around endlessly, looping figure-eights in their bowls and ponds… people think that they don’t remember anything.
People don’t see them as they are.
Streaks of white and orange, honouring the infinite. With fins like veils of silk and satin, they honour The Lady, honouring the knowledge they guard.
Tirelessly. Endlessly.
How easily people presume things.
How easily they dismiss them.
But they are patient, as The Lady is patient. And they know when the roles will be reversed.
They have patience.
They have time.
After all… they never really do forget.
A Tarot Anthology: III. The Empress
November 11, 2006 at 6:48 am
She sits there, her joints creaking with age, her fur worn down in places. She sits high up on her throne, surveying her domain with wisdom in her copper-gold eyes.
She takes whatever form she pleases, to suit whatever the situation calls for.
She is Dog; maternal, caring. She is Wolf; fierce, loyal. She is Fox; sly, cunning. She is Coyote; lonesome, daring.
She can be anything anyone wants her to be.
Anyone… save her.
A Tarot Anthology: IV. The Emperor
November 11, 2006 at 8:12 am
He sits on the edge of the rift, a lone lupine shape in the snowstorm, his grey-silver fur blending with the dark shadows of the falling snow. A single golden eye that stares, nay, glares directly into the soul, his other eye a luminescent opal with a single jagged scar cutting cruelly down the side of his face.
His face is of one who has seen one too many battles. Of one who has survived for far too long.
And yet… lips stretched into a feral grin, daring you to pass.
Daring you to enter his domain. Daring you to do battle with him.
For no one can enter without his consent. His, or his consort’s. And should one even think of doing so…
He will be there.
Watching.
Waiting.
Daring.
A Tarot Anthology: V. The Wisest
November 12, 2006 at 8:27 am
It was said that he was wise.
It was said that the knowledge of the ages resided in the coded etchings of his plumage, and that with his wide unblinking eyes he could peer past the veils of The Darkness to visit The Past, watch The Present and foresee The Future.
It was said he could tell anyone whatever they wished to know, tell them whatever they asked of him.
It was never told that his knowledge was from their own eyes, from their own thoughts.
From their own souls.
For who indeed really knows?
Who, indeed.
A Tarot Anthology: VI. The Lovers
November 12, 2006 at 10:03 am
There she is. Watch as she hovers in the air, watching and waiting.
There he is. Watch as he sits there, curious and impatient.
She sees him, and falls.
He’s the reason she swoops.
He’s the only thing between her and the ground.
But now she’s back in the air again, with him twisted around her claw.
Both airborne. Both together.
How long will this last?
Before he gives his life for her?
Before she devours him to give life to others?
A Tarot Anthology: VII. The Chariot
November 13, 2006 at 2:25 am
She waits there, on the very edge of consciousness. She waits there, just for you, to step into her domain so she may whisk you away.
She’ll take you to places you can only begin to imagine.
She’ll show you visions of delight and pleasure. Of wishes and hopes and dreams. She’ll show you everything you could have been and everything you should have had.
And she’ll carry you on the strong of her back, while her hooves will churn the soul of the earth and wreck the melody of the waves.
And she will show you what it really means to dream.
And on your longings and regret, she will feed.
A Tarot Anthology: VIII. Strength
November 13, 2006 at 2:33 am
He doesn’t need size to wield power.
He needs no weapons, no poisons nor venom to strike fear.
All he needs… is to be himself.
But now he sleeps.
Waiting for the right time.
Waiting for the moment when he can Become himself.
Become the One who will bring nations crumbling down to their knees.
Enter; the beginning
Well.
Now that was unexpected.
There she was, just minding her own business in the elevator, randomly checking her reflection on the mirrored wall. No streaks of make-up, check. Attempts at brushing her hair out of her eyes, fail. She heaved a sigh - no matter what she did, her hair was determined to go about its own way. With that thought in mind, her coffee-dark eyes flicked to the numbers displayed above the doors.
"Twenty first floor. Nineteenth floor. Seventeenth floor," a mechanical voice chirruped above her head.
She gave yet another an inward sigh - it felt as if reaching the ground floor was like taking ages -and carefully smoothened down the front of her shirt. Should go on a diet, she thought absently.
"Fifteenth floor. Fourteenth floor. Thirte-"
Huh? Confused as to why the lift stopped its countdown, she glanced upwards. She could still tell the lift was moving, but the screen displayed nothing.
And that's when it happened, and her memory about it was hazy at best.
But definitely something had happened.
A glimpse of a snippet
Just a little something that hit me when my lecturer surprised me with a pop quiz.
It's funny.
She looks down at the paper and all she could see... is paper. For a brief moment the strangeness in her mind clears and she sees things clearly. It's her test paper, and she was to answer the questions.
She picks up her pen, answers already forming in her head.
But the strangeness decends, and once again... all she sees is paper.
And now she doesn't even understand why she's here.
She begins to laugh; a hollow, empty laugh. And the only voices that laugh with her are the echoes in her mind.
The Vixen and the Bear – Part II
Author's note:
This is the third time I've reworked this chapter and I'm hoping like mad that third time's the charm :rlaugh:
Prologue Excerpt:
There was a tale, once. Long forgotten, and scarce muttered save for times when the nights were long and only the warmth of a loved one could stave off the bitter cold.
In the time long past, when Gods and Goddesses were aplenty; when Human and Animals mingled freely with one another, with the latter able to assume human form. It was a time of legends.
When Vixen next awoke, she did so reluctantly. It had been so long since she felt this kind of warmth, but when she clutched at the fur and realized it was not the silk of her coat but was rather thick and coarse, she bolted upright.
And found the face of Bear smiling gently at her from across the cave.
Confusion lasted only a moment; she dipped her head in thanks to him then asked, "How long have I been asleep?"
"For the better part of the day" came his answer.
Unease fluttered its wings. She had been gone for most of the day. Fish would not take well to that...