IT WAS A DARK AND STORMY NIGHT

It was the kind of place where you had to bring your own beer, but the fish sandwiches were perfectly fried. I sat at the bar, with a six pack, well, now dwindled to a four pack, of Abita sat under my feet. It was odd for this fish shack to have a bar, but no booze. The owner, Eric, was dark and broody and preferred his customers to take their food and go. This would might have worked if his niece, Sally, his only employee, hadn’t started the byob rumor to get customers into her uncle’s fish shop. I sat at the bar with my Abitas every Friday evening, sharing my beers with Sally, eating a fish sandwich and playing dice with Sally in between her waitressing duties. I was pretty sure Eric didn’t like me. I’d only lived in the area for about a year. Most people were still a bit suspicious, but Eric seemed genuinely irritated by presence.

This particular evening seemed extra irritating. It was hot and muggy. The air had that electrical smell it gets before a storm. Newscaster’s and weathermen were already talking about expected damages. No one in the fish shack looked particularly concerned, but customers were more inclined to get their orders to go. At 9 pm on a Friday night, Sally and I were the only two left out front with Eric banging around in the kitchen. I handed Sally my last Abita and said “I’m going to the bathroom. I’ll be right back and then I’m packing up to go.” I could see lightning flashing in the distance. Sally pouted and whined “It’s too early. Storm season is so boring.” Eric stuck his head out the order window and looked directly at me. “We should close shop early tonight, Sally.” I headed to the bathroom.

When I came out, the place was deserted. Half the lights were turned off. I could hear Eric in the kitchen washing up the last of the dishes. “Hey…um…did Sally leave? I’m just going to grab my stuff….Eric?” I yelled hoping he’d hear me over the running water. I reached down for my bag, but the strap had gotten wrapped around the heavy barstool next to it. I bent down and tilted the bar stool with my shoulder and freed the strap, struggling slightly with the weight and number of beers I’d had. I stood up a little unsteadily and turned around and then ran right into Eric’s not so soft chest. He grabbed my upper arms to steady me and when I looked up at his face, he was looking down at me with one eyebrow raised. “It’s raining.” He said. I paused and could hear the rain hitting the metal roof. “Yup, it sure is. You know…I’m only at the end of the street. I think I can get a little wet.” I said. Thunder cracked suddenly and I jumped, again bumping into Eric’s body. This time I jumped back like I’d been scalded. Jesus, Cindy, get it together, I thought to myself.

“Look, I appreciate your concern, but really I’ll be fine. Plus, I’m pretty sure I am the last person you probably want to be trapped in a storm with.” I said. Eric chuckled. “Why would you think that? I feed you every Friday night and you talked Sally into going back to school. I’m just not warm and fuzzy, I guess, but I like you just fine.” It was the way he said that last bit. It made my mouth go dry and my breath catch in my throat. Then Eric leaned down close and said “I probably like you more than I want to like you. In fact, I knew you’d be a pain in my ass the first time you walked in that door.” I don’t know, maybe it was the beer, but at the next boom of thunder, instead of jumping back, I jumped forward, wrapping my arms around his neck and planting my lips on his. He didn’t seem all that surprised by my action because his large hands went straight down to grip my ass.

And that is when I woke up gasping and realizing that I could probably write a decent trashy romance novel. In my sleep.

IF I HAD A PONY

Cindy pulled her fuzzy robe on, tying the belt before sliding her feet into her warmest slippers. She shuffled to the kitchen and poured herself a mug of coffee which she carried with her to the covered back porch. “Josephine! Let’s go outside!” Cindy said as she held open the door for her little dog and the two of them traveled outside into the crisp Fall morning. Josephine toddled down the steps to do her morning business and Cindy dragged a chair close to the patio railing. She nestled into the chair, propping her feet up on the railing while cupping her warm mug of coffee with both hands. Josephine eventually makes her way back up the steps and settles down at Cindy’s side. Both of them sat there, peacefully staring out across the lake. It is too early out for most. The water is calm and still. The leaves have just begun to change colors and the water’s edge dances with the greens, reds and golds of the season. Cindy and Josephine can hear the honking first before seeing the flock of geese fly in for a landing near the dock next door. Josephine growls at the geese before settling back into her morning nap. Cindy smiles and rubs her foot on the top of Josephine’s head, taking a sip of her coffee.

Mornings had always been Cindy’s favorite time of day. She had always been an early riser and this allowed her access to the still quiet that can only be found in the first few hours of a new day. In those hours, Cindy had the earth all to herself. This was time for her and her alone. She often spent this time lingering over a cup of coffee while writing in one of her many journals. Since moving to the lake house, the routine fluctuates between writing and staring at the lake. Occasionally, a small fishing boat will float by. Cindy and the person fishing will exchange good mornings and then Cindy will spend the rest of the morning concocting a tale centered around the fisherman. Who he is. Why he fishes. What he’s fishing for. Who is waiting at home for him. Cindy paints a picture in her head that answers all of these questions and more. Sometimes she even writes that story down. This morning though, she is content to sit and be part of the stillness. It is late in the season and there are bound to be few boats out today at all. Her own boat has been covered and sits in the dry dock wrapped up for the coming winter. Very few people stayed or even visited their lake houses in the winter. This would be Cindy’s first winter at the lake, as the lake house was no longer just for vacations and rentals. She was curious and a little anxious to see what winter would be like here. Would there be snow? Ice? Both? She had already started a list of things to prepare. Generator. Gas tanks. Bulk food storage. Firewood.

They would be fine.

Cindy sipped her coffee while the others slept and dreamed that this was her real life.

REVERSE PAGE OF PENTACLES, THREE OF RODS AND FIVE OF SWORDS

Abby sat at the end of the cot, cradling a styrofoam cup of coffee in her hands. She stared down at her shoes that had grown into a patchwork of duct tape to cover holes. Abby wondered how it was that her shoes had so many holes, yet the shoe laces were still intact with no frays and neatly tied. It was as if the manufactures had put more care into making the laces than they had the shoes. Someone on the cot next to Abby coughed. She turned to look at the mound of a person curled onto their side, then she looked up and around her. Most of the cots were occupied with maybe only one or two still unclaimed. She new there would be a fight over the few remaining cots what with the temperatures promising to drop below zero for the night.

Abby wasn’t sure she would consider herself lucky to have gotten the cot she was now sitting on. There was time she had slept on silk sheets piled with down comforters. If she closed her eyes, she could picture the lace pattern of the canopy above her old bed. Then she remembered the way it had appeared to melt when she had accidentally, on purpose, set it on fire. That had been the beginning of her end. After that, Abby shaved one side of her head and pierced her nose. Her mother, who was already furious over the whole bed canopy fire, had nearly exploded over Abby’s new look. Abby responded by rolling her eyes and then finding ways to avoid her mother. This hadn’t been too hard. Abby’s mother spent most of her time fixated on herself with her work outs, massages and face lifts. Abby hated how her mother fixated on the perfection of her body and how that fixation would sometimes spill over onto Abby’s body. Abby had hated a lot of things about her mother, but Abby had also hated every thing about her own life as well. School was the worst. All of the girls were the same vapid carbon copies of each other. The teachers were just as bad. None of them ever listened. No one in Abby’s life had ever listened.

Except Jared. He listened to Abby. Jared had made Abby feel seen, like she was someone special. Cool. He had paid attention to the things she said, how she railed against how fucked up society was and how she wanted to make really important art. Jared was the first boy to kiss her, to touch her. He taught her about sex and how to roll a joint. Abby had liked both of those things probably too much. One night, while they were high, Jared said that they should just pack a bag and run off. Abby thought about it for a hot minute before agreeing. She ran home, threw a bunch of things into a bag and left with Jared thinking she would never look back. The next five years had been a blur of bus stations, alleys and drugs. At first Jared had told her that they would get jobs and find an apartment. They hitchhiked to Chicago where Abby found a job at a fast food place. Jared found them a place to stay in an abandoned building. Abby worked all day frying things in a deep fryer. She came home smelling like hot oil and Jared would be laying on the bed they had made from an old mattress, the needle resting on the floor where he’d let it drop. When he’d finally come to, he’d ask Abby for her paycheck and then get mad at her when she’d tell him no. He’d yell and throw things. A few times he hit her. Every time he took the money from her bag any way.

All of Abby’s money went to drugs. She used Jared’s leftovers when she could. Then Abby started stealing food from work. She managed to get away with it for over two weeks before the manager caught on. The manager told her she could keep her job for a blow job and he’d let her keep the food that went into the garbage at nights. Abby was surprised by how numb she felt when she agreed to the manager’s terms. She needed money and food. So what if she had to suck this creep’s dick. Of course it wasn’t just a blow job. That one act turned into multiple acts, each more degrading than the other. Then one day she came home from work to find the building they had been living completely boarded up with signs posted for demolition. Abby pried off a board near the back of the building and climbed in one of the many broken windows. Jared was gone, along with all of their belongings. He did not leave a note. Abby roamed the city parks and alleys looking for Jared that first night. By the second night, she realized that she was on her own. No Jared. No clothes. No drugs. No place to sleep. Abby dragged a box into the alley next to the fast food place where she worked and slept there until she was discovered a week later, again by the manager. This time, the manager tired of Abby showing up late and dirty, fired her. Now Abby had no job.

Sitting on her cot with a now cold cup of coffee, Abby realized that she should have never listened to Jared. She thought that maybe she should call her mother. Maybe she should just try to go home, back to her old room with silk sheets and comforter on the bed and lace curtains. She thought about her collection of plastic ponies lined up neatly on a shelf in her room. Abby hadn’t touched them in ages, but now she had the strongest desire to brush each one’s hair with a tiny comb. She wanted feel the soft carpet of her bedroom under her bare feet. Abby wanted to be home.

Maybe she would call her mother.

Maybe.

THE FOOL, THE REVERSE THREE OF CUPS, AND THE SIX OF RODS

Alex stared up at the blue sky through her sunglasses while lounging in a pool float, her hand moving languidly back and forth through the water. It was still morning and early enough in the day for Alex to have the hotel pool all to herself. She pulled her cup from the built in cup holder on the float and took a long draw of orange juice through the pink straw. She leaned back and just floated. Alex was good at floating, and not just in water. Alex had been floating her way through life for as long as she could remember, mostly floating her way through boys. She just sort of drifted from one thing to the next, never really making an effort at much of anything.

Alex had been a straight A student all through high school and college. She did the assignments. She took the tests, but she did not study or do extra work. Her education had been easy, but only because she stuck to the basic and average classes. After graduation, Alex found herself working at a company doing data entry from 9-5. It was not a glamorous or exciting job, but it paid the bills, provided health insurance and was very simple. Alex just typed in information all day. When the work day was complete, she left her cubicle and the work stayed there. Alex did not think about her job outside of her job. She did not analyze how she handled this or that or how she could improve at her job in order to get a promotion. Alex didn’t really care. She was apathetic about most of her life. It was apathy that landed her with boyfriend number one, Josh.

Josh was a sweet guy who was into backpacking, rock climbing and mountain biking. Pretty much all outside extreme adventure activities. Alex met Josh at a local bar when he bought her a drink and asked her to dinner. Having nothing else to do, Alex had agreed and by the end of the next week Josh was taking her to REI to be fitted for her very own backpack. They spent most of the day getting her kitted out for her first backpacking adventure. Alex had never even been camping before, let alone backpacking-wilderness camping, but Josh sounded very excited whenever he talked about it. So she assumed that she would probably enjoy the activity almost as much he did. When they finally went out for their first camping weekend together, Alex was certain she was going to love it. An hour into their hike to their campsite, Alex’s feet hurt and she had to pee. Her pack had rubbed blisters on her shoulders. Alex was having to work at this and she was not having fun. When Josh informed her that there was no bathroom, Alex turned right around and hiked herself back to the trail head parking lot. Later, Alex was surprised how much of her gear REI refunded for her.

Alex had continued to float and drift from boyfriend to boyfriend for a number of years. Boyfriend number two had been very political and many of their dates centered around protests or marches. Boyfriend number three was really really into live heavy metal music. Alex spent most her time standing with her hands over her ears while boyfriend number three thrashed his body around the audience. Boyfriend number four had been very serious and they had attended multiple lectures and book club meetings, most of which Alex slept through. Boyfriend number five…Alex couldn’t even remember much about boyfriend number five. He was uneventful and if she thinks about, they both just kind stopped calling each other.

This brings us to boyfriend number six, Eric. Alex took another sip of her orange juice, now watered down with melted ice. Eric was the reason she was in this hotel. Eric was the reason she was spending her morning floating in this pool. Eric was the reason for a number of things.

THE KING OF PENTACLES, THE EIGHT OF RODS AND A REVERSE EIGHT OF PENTACLES

Carol raced through the airport, her small carry-on rolling behind her with it’s wheels rattling. She arrived at the gate of her connecting flight just as the words “cancelled” flashed up onto the over head board. Carol, panting and out of breath, placed her hand on her hip and bent over slightly to catch her breath. “Fuck.” she swore on a exhale. She pulled her phone from her bag and checked the flight status app. Nothing until tomorrow morning. Carol was stuck in Detroit. The earliest flight available was a 6:15 AM flight. Carol stepped up to the counter to make sure she would be able to get on that flight. A man in a business suit stepped up next to her at the counter and Carol gave him a side eye. “I think the line starts behind me sir. Not next to me.” Carol said as the man’s elbow bumped her shoulder. “Oh sorry…I didn’t see you standing there.” The man stepped back as one of the flight attendants stepped up to the counter. Carol looked at the woman’s tired face and her name tag. “Candice, it looks like you’ve had a rough day too. I know this sucks for you.” Carol put on a smile and tried her best to look sympathetic. Candice nodded wearily and asked how she could help. “Is there any way I could get a boarding pass for that 6:15 morning flight to New York?” Candice typed on the keyboard in front of her and shook her head. “The earliest I can guarantee you is 8:45 AM.” Carol nodded and replied “Put me on it!” Candice typed a bit more and printed out a boarding pass. “Thank you soooo much.” Carol said as she took the boarding pass being handed to her. She gathered her things and turned away from the counter. Then she started searching for a hotel room and scored a suit at closest Marriot with points from her travel card.

As Carol made her way to the hotel shuttles, she felt a little despondent at spending another night alone in a dreary hotel room. She paused at a take-and-go kiosk and pondered the questionable salads and sandwiches. Then she shook her head and decided to treat herself at the hotel and order room service. The hotel shuttle was waiting for her when she stepped out of the airport. Carol hopped on, dragging her carry-on bag and sat quietly as the shuttle made it’s short drive to the hotel. At check in, Carol ordered a salmon burger, fries and some tonic to be delivered to her room. She had two airplane bottles of gin in her purse. She opened the door to her suit and kicked off her heels as she walked into the room and then face planted onto the bed. Eventually she rolled over and pulled herself up to a seated position. She pulled her laptop from her bag and connected to the hotel WiFi. Carol had already filed her report for the consultation she had done for UWM, so she opened a browser window to scroll through beach properties. This was becoming Carol’s new favorite pastime. She found that she could spend hours looking at various condos and bungalows for sale in places like Hawaii and Florida. Carol knew that this new obsession was a sign that she was burnt out and tired of this hectic life that consisted of airports and hotels.

A knock at the door signal the arrival of the room service she had ordered at check-in. She got up and answered the door. Carol let the attendant into the suit and managed some small talk as the young man rolled in her dinner tray. She tipped him and then shut the door behind him. Carol rummaged in her bag and pulled out one of her little gin bottles and made herself a gin and tonic before tucking into her meal. She scrolled through house listing while she ate until she came across a cute little bungalow on the island of Maui. It was not directly on the beach, but nestled back into the jungle across the road from the beach. Three bedroom, two bath, with a carport. Carol scrolled through the images for the listing. The interior looked fairly new and in good shape, but the front porch and back patio were the things that peaked her interest the most. Carol could picture herself sitting on that front porch with her morning cup of coffee. She could see herself puttering around in the gardens around that back patio.

Carol wanted this house.

Carol opened a second tab in the browser window and logged into her bank account. She looked at the balance in her savings and then she looked at the purchase price of the house. She could do this. She could buy this house easily. The next question was if she bought this house, what would she do about a job? She had a sizable nest egg, but she wasn’t any where near retirement. She would have to get a job. Carol thought about this as she munched on a french fry. This job of her’s could be done remotely. Maybe not with the current company she worked for, but she could freelance. Carol took a drink of her gin and tonic and then clicked on the link to contact the realtor selling the property. Then she started making new plans that did not include being stuck in a airpot hotel in Detroit.

THE NINE OF SWORDS, THE LOVERS AND THE ACE OF SWORDS

Diana stared at her reflection in the full length mirror while her mother adjusted the veil that had been painfully pinned into Diana’s elaborate hairdo. She felt a tightness in her chest, her breath restricted by the tight bodice of her dress. Diana did not recognize the woman staring back at her. For one thing, she had never worn this much makeup in her life. Her hair was a stiff tower of curls. Diana felt herself sway as she balanced herself in the white silk heels she had on her feet. Feet that you could not even see unless she lifted the thousands of layers of silk and tool that made up her skirt. Diana closed her eyes and tried to tune out the chatter of the women that filled the room. She had only one thought: This was a terrible mistake. That thought was now looping through Diana’s brain in various iterations. The dress was a mistake. The veil was a mistake. All this god-awful makeup and towering hair was a mistake. She was making a terrible mistake.

Diana’s skin felt like it had just gone up in flames and the room began to tilt. “I need air!” Diana gasped as she shoved her way past her bridesmaids who consisted of a gaggle of cousins Diana barely knew, leaving her mother gaping at her. “Diana! Wait….” Diana didn’t hear the rest of what her mother had to say. She had already made her way down the hallway that led to an exit door. Diana pushed hard on the double doors that led to the outside and felt the doors bounce open. She felt like she had just busted out of jail, except she still couldn’t breathe. Diana fumbled with the zipper at the back of the dress, frantically turning in a circle as she tried to reach the zipper. “Do you need some help?” Diana jerked her head around at the voice. He stood there, in his suit, a cigarette casually balanced between two fingers in his right hand. Roger. Diana continued to struggle for her zipper as she snapped “No! I’m fine. I got this.” Then she immediately fell over on the lawn, a puddle of tool and silk. She felt hot tears beginning to well up in her eyes and she still could not catch her breath.

Roger dropped his cigarette to ground and stepped on it to put it out. Without saying a word, he bent down, placed one hand on her shoulder and grabbed the zipper with other hand. He tugged on the zipper and undid it down to Diana’s waist. Diana gasped in the first full breath she’d been able take since her mother had zipped her up in this stupid dress. Roger pulled his colored pocket square from his suit pocket and handed it to Diana. She carefully blotted under her eyes with it and sniffled. “Thanks.” Roger sat down on the lawn next to Diana, knees bent so that his wrists could rest on the tops of his knees. Casual and comfortable even in his suit and dress shoes. “This is all your fault you know.” Diana said. “Which part?” he replied. “I would have gone through with all of this if you hadn’t showed up.” Diana said as she reached for her feet and started pulling off her shoes. She tossed them one at a time as far as she could throw them. They both landed in a hedge that had been trimmed into a shape of a rabbit. “Well, now, you see that sounds like I’ve done you a favor. You can thank me for keeping you from a joyless, miserable marriage.” Roger leaned back onto his elbows and looked up at Diana, squinting a little into the sun.

Diana snorted a laugh. “Why the fuck did you wait so long? My parents are going to be pissed you know. Derek’s family has paid for most of this extravagant fiasco of a wedding, but Dad is still mad at Mom about the money she spent on all of the dresses. Mostly her own dresses, but still. And Derek’s mother. She’s terrifying under regular circumstances. I wouldn’t be surprised if flames literally shot out of her mouth when she finds out I’m not walking down that isle.” Roger hopped up and then extended a hand to Diana. “Well, then I guess we better hurry up and get out of here before they try to stop us.” Diana looked at Roger’s hand and started to smile. She placed her hand in his and he tugged to help her up. Diana shook her head, looked Roger in the eye and said “Where’s your car?”

WHEEL OF FORTUNE, A REVERSE FIVE OF RODS, AND THE KNIGHT OF PENTACLES

Story time

Ella slumped back into the Adirondack chair and watched the flames leaping up from the large fire pit. She was the only one out and had the patio all to herself. Tucking her feet up under her, she let her shoulders relax and she sighed, looking up at the night sky. It really was beautiful here, even better than the pictures in the brochure. Ella reached down for her metal water bottle and took a swig of the vodka she’d filled the bottle with. She winced and thought she should have filled it half with vodka and half with grapefruit juice. Instead, she’d filled the bottle to the top. Ella shrugged, took another gulp and savored the warmth of the alcohol as it travelled down her throat. The fire continued to crackle and pop. An owl hooted in the distance. Ella took another sip of vodka.

The vodka was contraband. The brochure had strictly prohibited drugs and alcohol of any kind. This was a health and spiritual retreat with a strict vegan meal plan, morning meditation and yoga, and mindful nature walks. When Ella arrived, she had been handed a journal of handmade paper and a rubber band bundle of colored pencils. The woman at check-in, Rain, had handed them to Ella with a smile and said “it’s for writing and sketching your visions.” Ella had taken the journal and mumbled a ‘thank you’ as she gathered her bags to head to her cabin. “You have free time until six. Then we’ll have our opening ceremony with our evening meal. I so hope you enjoy your time here with us.” Rain said, her focus already turning to the next guest in line. Ella had then followed the path that led to her cabin, which looked a little run down. Once inside, Ella threw her bags on the bed that was covered with a calico quilt of blues. She was pleasantly surprised to find the inside did not match the outside. The place was rather nice in a rustic sort of way. It was clean and she had her own private bathroom with a beautiful copper soaking tub. Ella thought this completely met the definition of ‘glamping’. Ella wasn’t much of an unpacker, but she had taken the time to empty out the small bag of groceries she’d brought with her, putting things in the mini-fridge and setting stuff out on the little kitchen counter. Then she had taken a look at the things she had brought, particularly the bottle of vodka and the family size package of Double Stuffed Oreos. She gathered those up and shoved them into the cabinet under the sink before heading out to explore the rest of the camp.

Ella took another drink from her water bottle. She was going to have to pace herself if that bottle was going to last her the week. Her stomach grumbled. Dinner had been lacking in substance and mostly kale. Ella fished an Oreo out from the pocket of her hoodie and was just about to take a bite when she heard the sounds of footsteps. Ella shoved the whole cookie into her mouth just as another camper walked into the light from the fire. “Oh! I didn’t expect anyone else to be out here for some reason. Is it okay if I join you?” The woman asked Ella, whose mouth was still full of cookie. Ella nodded her head while trying to swallow down the chewed up cookie that had by now turned itself into a ball of mush. She took a large drink from her water bottle, forgetting that is did not contain water and nearly choked before managing to squeak out “sure!” Ella noticed that the woman had her own metal water bottle and wondered if it was also filled with contraband like her own. “I’m Diane.” she said as she started to take a seat next to Ella. “Ella. Please to meet you.” Diane leaned back into her chair, opened her water bottle and took a sip of some dark red looking ‘water’. “Cheers!” Diane said as she held out her bottle for a clink. Ella chuckled and raised her water bottle, clinking it against Diane’s bottle. “Cheers!” Diane was wearing a pretty stylish wool poncho. She fished around in the front pocket and pulled out two Snickers bars. “Want one? I don’t know about you, but I’m starving after that bowl of grass clippings they called dinner.” Diane said as she waved one of the candy bars, eyebrows raised. Ella pulled the sleeve of Oreos she’d stashed inside her hoodie pocket. “I’d love one. How about some Oreos?” Diane grinned as she pulled two cookies from the sleeve. “I think we’re going to be friends.” Ella smiled and replied “I think so too.”

The two women sat quietly for a moment and then Diane asked “What made you decide to come to this retreat?” Ella groaned “It’s a long stupid story involving a boy. Or a man child. It was a bad relationship that ended just as badly. I saw the brochure at my corner coffee shop and for some crazy reason thought this was exactly what I needed in that moment. What about you?” Diane took a sip from her bottle. “My last kid has just left for college. Empty nester. That and I found out my husband has been sleeping with his dental hygienist for the last seven years.” Ella winced and said “ouch.” They both took drinks from their water bottles. Ella looked at Diane. She did not look old enough to have a kid in college let alone multiple adult children. Ella handed over the sleeve of cookies and said “I would never have guessed you were old enough to have adult children.” Diane took another cookie. “My husband, soon to be ex, is a very popular dentist. I haven’t had any major plastic surgery, but I usually spend a week at a particular spa every year and I have a personal trainer. Who I should totally start boning.” Ella laughed and agreed “Yes…yes you should.”

The two women were quiet for a bit, both staring at the flames that were beginning to die out. “What do you expect to get out of this week?” Ella asked. Diane made a face and thought for a minute. “You know…I’m really angry at Allen, my husband. I worked a crappy job to help put him through dental school, had his children, gave up my own hopes of furthering my education and having a career of my own because he thought it would be best if I stayed home and took care of the home. I love my children, I really do, but I also wanted something of my own and I’m really angry that I let him take that away from me. I guess, if I get anything out of this week it would be figuring out a way to let all of that anger go.” Ella nodded thoughtfully. “Wow. I’m just hoping to lose ten pounds and have some nap times.” Diane laughed and said “I’m hoping for those things too, but I doubt that’s all you expect from the week.” Ella stared at the glowing embers of what was left of the fire. “That terrible relationship? Well…for a while I let that boy make me believe that I was worthless and lucky to even have him notice me. He made feel small and he crushed every artistic endeavor that I came up with. I was talentless. I was nothing. The stupid thing is that I knew none of that was true, but I let him do it to me anyway. I probably could have let him emotionally abuse me for a really long time, but not the physical abuse. He beat up pretty bad. That’s what it took for me to leave. The leaving part made feel strong and brave for a very sort amount of time, but I’m still afraid. I’m still hanging on to that fear of being talentless and nothing. So…maybe this week will give me some sort of roadmap to bravery.”

Diane raised her water bottle and said “Here’s to a week of angry bravery!” Ella laughed and clinked her water bottle with Diane’s and shouted “Angry Bravery!” They each ate another Oreo and watched as the fire finally died out.

THE KNIGHT OF CUPS, THE KNIGHT OF SWORDS AND THE FIVE OF PENTACLES, ALL UPSIDE DOWN

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Vivian laid the cards out for her paying tourist and grimaced. Even the most beginner of Tarot Card readers knew that cards were placed down on the table the way they were drawn. If the card facing the reader was upside down, that card stayed upside down. Usually the upside down definition was the opposite of the right side up definition and it usually wasn’t good. Vivian’s tourist had laid down the Knight of Cups, the Knight of Swords and the Five of Pentacles all upside down. Vivian looked at her tourist. She was a well dressed middle aged woman, Gucci sunglasses were perched on top of her perfectly coifed head. Her clothes looked expensive and she had several shopping bags arranged around her. What tipped her off as a tourist was her husband standing just behind the woman, looking bored while scrolling through who knows what on his phone. The husband looked expensive too, but he also sported a very expensive camera that hung on a leather strap around his neck. The two of them were most definitely tourists.

Rich tourists.

Of all the kinds of people to sit down at Vivian’s table in Jackson Square Park, rich tourists were the worst. They always expected more than a simple reading. They wanted a show, a grand display of the cards and those cards all better be the best cards one could pull from the pile. Their fortune telling and future was to be perfect, filled with only the very good. And they never tipped. Never. “Oh! Smile for the camera, Sweetie!” Vivian looked up to see that the woman was in the process of taking a selfie that included Vivian. Vivian half smiled as the woman pressed the button, taking the picture. “Getting my cards read in Jackson Square, y’all!” The woman spoke as she typed with her perfectly manicured hands. The woman looked at Vivian and said “Sorry about that but I just had to Insta this!” Vivian was pretty sure this woman ended every sentence in an exclamation point. Vivian smiled politely and returned her focus to the cards, contemplating her reading.

“What do you think? I mean, they look like pretty great cards. Two knights! And that woman cradling the wounded man. That has to be me. I am so nurturing. Isn’t that right Charles? I give money to all of the animal rescue groups. Right Charles?” The husband, Charles, mumbled something in agreement while he continued to stare at his phone. Again, Vivian smiled politely as she nodded her head. This was the part Vivian did not like about reading the Tarot to tourists. There was always the question of when to tell the patron the truth or flat out lie. Vivian looked at the woman again, really studying her. The woman seemed nice enough. Just because she was rich and most likely clueless didn’t mean she was a bad person. The sad truth was that these were not good cards, but did the woman really need to know that? Vivian had to decide if she should tell the woman that her husband was most likely cheating on her and all of those expensive purchases were leading them both into financial ruin and that her extravagance was going to bring chaos into her life. Or, thought Vivian, she could spin a false tale where the woman and her husband had the strongest of relationships and that only good things were ahead for them. That would be the nice thing to do and who knows? Maybe this woman would actually tip her.

“How long is this going to take, Claire? I don’t want to wait around all day for you to hear some mumbo jumbo crap. You’ve already taken your selfie. Let’s just go.” said an impatient Charles, not even taking his eyes from the screen on his phone.

Vivian decided to tell Claire the truth.

A REVERSE TEN OF SWORDS, THE SUN, AND THE HIEROPHANT

New Tarot card story.

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“Alexa, play some music.” The streaming device on Ella’s desk started playing The Dog Song by Nellie McKay. Ella smiled and patted her little dog, Fletcher on the head. They had just themselves come back from a walk. Fletcher was now flopped half in, half out of his bed and panting. “You need a haircut.” Ella told him. She looked at the calendar tapped to the wall above her desk. Fletcher’s haircut was scheduled for next week. He would have to suffer through with his winter coat for a few more days. Ella sat down at her desk and opened her laptop. She went straight to her online bank account. Ella grinned with joy. The money was still there. It had not been a dream. The surprise inheritance that her grandmother had left her was sitting there in one giant lump sum in Ella’s savings account. It was the largest amount of money that savings account had ever held. It was the largest amount of money Ella had ever had in her possession.

Ella spun in her desk chair, laughing. No more scrimping. No more barely getting by. No more doing without. Ella couldn’t believe her luck. She had a meeting with a financial advisor this very afternoon to discuss investment possibilities and how to make her inheritance stretch even further. Ella knew that on the way to meet the financial advisor that she would stop at that boutique on the corner, the one where she did all of her window shopping and dreaming, except now she would go inside and buy something. Probably that cute embroidered dress she’d been eyeing in the window of late. Ella brought her hands together in prayer, looked up to the heavens and said “Thank you Grandmother Ester, who ever you are.”

Ella had never met her grandmother and she only knew bits of the story of why that was. Grandmother Ester had so strongly disapproved of Ella’s very Jewish father that she had cut her very own daughter completely out of her life. Ella remembered coming across an old black and white photo of a woman with a small girl. It had been tucked inside a shoebox in her mother’s closet. Ella had been in there trying on her mother’s lovely shoes. Stumbling in a pair of ridiculously high heels, she had bumped against some shelves. The box fell down, spilling its contents. “Ella, whatever are you doing in there.” Her mother said as she opened the sliding closet doors. Ella remembered her mother smiling at the site of Ella in those shoes and how that smile faded as she bent down and picked up the photo. Her mother had gazed at the picture with a look of sadness and then she picked up the box, placing the photo inside. “Enough dress-up play for the day. Out!” Ella’s mother had gently shooed her daughter out of the closet and never said a word about that picture. Ella could only guess that it had been a picture of her mother as a child with her own mother.

Ella sighed, thinking about her mom. She’d been gone for nearly seven years now and Ella missed her just as much today as the day her mother died. Ella wondered what her mother would say about Grandmother Ester leaving Ella her entire fortune. It sounded like Ella’s relationship with her mother had been quite different than the one between her mother and grandmother. Ella could not imagine her mother ever being so angry with Ella that she would cut her out of her life completely. Ella and her mom had been a team, often ganging up on Ella’s Dad to get him to take them to the beach or out for ice cream or keep the stray puppy. Dad was a push over. He always gave in to their demands. The three of them had been such a tight little family unit. Ella’s child memories were all filled with love and laughter. Ella looked over at the frame photo of the three of them sitting on her desk. It was just Ella and her dad now. Speaking of which, Ella was going to be late for her morning coffee with dad if she didn’t get a move on.

Ella slipped on her shoes, grabbed her bag and keys. She patted Fletcher on the head and said “Be good and don’t bark at the mailman.” Then she hurried out the door to walk the four blocks to the Mission Shelter. Ella’s dad spent every morning there stirring large pots of oatmeal and handing out bananas to any one who needed a meal. He used to only do it on the weekends, but since Ella’s mom passed and he retired, he spends every morning there. Sometimes he helps cook. Sometimes he hands out food and sometimes he just walks around chatting with people sitting at the tables and picking up dirty dishes. This morning, Ella found him sitting at one of the tables and chatting with some of the regulars that showed up at the Mission every morning. Ella looked at her dad. He looked a little thin, but other than that, he looked happy. She could tell that he truly loved working at the Mission and this warmed her heart.

Ella made her way to the coffee station and poured herself a mug of coffee. Then she made her way through the tables, saying ‘hello’ to some of the familiar faces, pausing here and there to ask about someone’s wellbeing. Her coffee was barely warm by the time she finally made it to where her dad was sitting. Ella’s dad stood up and hugged his daughter tight. “Good morning Sweet-pea! What’s the word mockingbird?” This was how he had greeted Ella every morning of her life. Ella smiled and took her seat. She said hello to Sam, one of the old timers who frequented the Mission and looked at her dad.

“Well…does this mockingbird ever have some news for you today.” Ella said with a grin.

THE DEVIL, THE THREE OF SWORDS AND AN UPSIDE DOWN ACE OF RODS

I have this little project going where I write a short story based on the random Tarot Cards I draw from a shuffled deck. Today's three cards are a doozy and I have no idea what I'm going to make from this mess. There's no happy ending here.

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It was so hot inside the cramped chapel, with barely a breeze floating in through the open windows. The ceiling fans and the personal fans held by every other parishioner only managed to shift the hot air back and forth. Ella could feel the sweat trickling down the back of her church dress. Her hands were sweaty inside her lace gloves. Her spine ached from sitting tall on the hard wooden pew. Every time Ella started to lean back to rest, her grandmother swatted Ella’s thigh with her fan. Ella half listened to the pastor yelling his sermon of fire and brimstone. She was certain that there was a hell and that she was currently in it.

“And the Lord says: Upon the wicked he shall rain snares, fire and brimstone and a horrible tempest!” The Preacher cried out and then slammed his open palm onto the pulpit. The congregation responded with amens and praise jesuses. Ella shifted her eyes to the side to take a peak at her grandmother who was now swaying in her seat with her hands held up, eyes gently closed in prayer. Ella took this opportunity to slowly lean her spine onto the back of the pew. She had just barely felt her vertebra touch the wooden back when she felt the sting on her thigh from her grandmother’s fan. Ella sighed, straightened herself back up and wonder how much longer the preacher was going to go on. They’d been sitting in that sweltering chapel for well over an hour now. Ella’s thoughts began to drift to the wicked and how she had yet to see anyone suffer from fire and brimstone. Why just the other day, Billy Thompson had thrown a sizable rock at Ella, just barely missing her head and there he was fidgeting next to his mother, tugging at the tie she’d made him wear for Sunday service. Billy’s sins were nothing compared to the men who had dragged her daddy out of the house two years ago. Daddy still walked with a limp from the beating they’d given him for walking down the wrong sidewalk.

Ella wondered what the Lord’s timeframe was for administering his punishments to the wicked. It seemed to her that he was taking his own sweet time. The more she thought on it, the more agitated her thoughts became. She felt anger rising in her belly at all of the wickedness that she had witnessed just in her short lifetime. Like her momma dying while trying to give birth to Ella’s baby brother because the only doctor available had been the white doctor who refused to come to their side of town. Ella had watched the blood flow from her momma as she held the tiny baby. Ella had named the baby Jordan, but he’d only lived for two days after his birth. Daddy had lost his job at the factory after having to take time off to recover from the beating from those wicked men. Ella’s hair was just now growing back from the time her teacher had taken it upon herself to shave Ella’s head. “There’s no way you can do any proper learning with that nappy head of hair.” the teacher had said. If there had been a lesson to be learned from that, Ella had yet to understand it. Hair or no hair, she had still beat Lily Elliot in the math-a-thon.

Yes, Ella thought, the Lord sure did seem to take a long time to punish the wicked. She paused in her thinking to take a moment to listen to see if the preacher would say something on this matter in particular. He was currently going on and on about turning the other cheek. Ella made a face and thought that she’d been turning the other cheek her whole life and it hadn’t gotten her very far. Ella sighed, bowed her head and closed her eyes. Maybe if she looked like she was praying, her grandmother wouldn't notice if her back rested on the back of the pew. She let her body sway from side to side as if she was deep in prayer and the gently rested her spine on the back of the pew. Smack! Ella snapped to attention and gently rubbed her stinging thigh. There was no fooling her grandmother. Ella shifted in her seat a little and then stopped thinking on the wicked and punishment. Instead she started to dream about her future and how one day she would be a doctor or lawyer. Maybe she’d be both! Delivering babies and justice! Like a superhero! Ella pictured herself wearing a smart business suit with a swaddled baby in one arm and raising a book of the law with her other hand, beams of light radiating behind her.

Ella smiled at the very idea of it as she sat sweating in that chapel while the preacher railed on.

THE NINE OF CUPS, THE TWO OF CUPS AND AN UPSIDE DOWN ACE OF RODS

Tarot fiction today

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Andrea ran her sleeve under her drippy nose and sniffled as she poured the last of the wine from her second bottle into her wine glass. She plopped back onto her couch and blearily flipped through her photos on her phone. “Delete, delete, delete. F you delete.” Andrea slurred as she tapped each photo of Jason mugging for the camera, selfies of the two of them kissing at sunset, dancing at Freddy and Alex’s wedding. They were all lies and she wanted to erase every trace of Jason from her life. “Meow.” Andrea turned her head to see Felix sitting on the arm of the couch. The room spun a bit as she tried to focus her gaze. “Oh, Felix. You knew Jason was rotten on the inside the whole time. You never liked him from the start.” Which was true. Felix would hiss at Jason and then run from whatever room Jason was occupying. She reached over and scratched her orange tabby behind the ears.

Andrea couldn’t figure out how it had all been so good and was now so so bad. She had been so sure that Jason was the one, that they were meant to spend the rest of their lives together. Andrea had been duped and she was angry at herself for falling for the idea that this could be her happily ever after. She should have known from the beginning that Jason was too good to be true. He’d greeted her with a bouquet of spring flowers outside the restaurant where they had agreed to meet after a brief conversation through the online dating app. Andrea had been surprised and flattered at his thoughtfulness. She had been on a few of these online dates already. The first date was never really a ‘date’ as much as it was a meet-n-greet. This was the date where you decided if you wanted to go on a real date together. Andrea had expected to wait at the bar for Jason to show up half an hour late. Then they would have two drinks where she would pay for her’s and maybe even his because of some made up wallet fiasco. They would stand outside the bar and agree to do this again or to go to dinner and a movie. Then Andrea would head back to her cat, Felix, and delete the number from her phone.

This first date with Jason was not at all like those other dates. He had arrived before her and had flowers. When Andrea suggested they just have a drink at the bar, Jason said “Oh…I’ve already gotten us a table. I thought we could eat and linger over our food and wine.” Andrea shrugged and agreed. She had even let him pull the chair out for her and scoot her back in. They ended up sitting for what seemed like hours, taking turns telling life stories and getting to know each other. Afterward, Jason had walked Andrea back to her apartment. They stood outside on the stoop and instead of just saying that they’d like to do this again sometime, Jason suggested they both pull up their calendars and set a time for the following Friday. As the week passed, Andrea started to worry that Jason wouldn’t show, but was leery of sending any kind of text. She didn’t want to come across as too needy or insecure, but Jason buzzed her apartment four minutes before their agreed time. He took Andrea to a concert at the park where they sat on a blanket with a picnic. When the concert ended, they remained on that blanket talking until three in the morning.

Things moved in a whirlwind fashion after that. The two of them seemed inseparable. Jason spent more and more time at Andrea’s apartment. They went to company outings together, introduced each other to friends and family. There were vacations and camping trips. There were minor quarrels with great make-up sex. They talked about moving into together or buying house together. They talked about a wedding on a beach. Andrea was in love and she had thought the feelings were mutual, but it turned out that she was wrong. Andrea was at the Farmer’s Market, picking out veggies for a special dinner. Her plan was to surprise Jason with a nice meal. She was just turning from one vendor when she saw him. Andrea paused to be sure, but it was clearly him. With his arm around the waste of a pretty petite blond woman. Andrea felt her heart leap to her throat as she watched him laugh at something the woman said and then lean down and kiss the woman on the lips. Andrea stepped back between two stalls, her heartbeat racing. Then she turned and fled the market.

Andrea didn’t remember how she had gotten home. Her brain just kept replaying the scene over and over. Maybe she had been wrong about what she had seen. Maybe that really wasn’t Jason. Andrea had dug her phone out of her bag and sent him a text to remind him of their dinner plans. Jason responded with a thumbs up emoji. Emojis were not really his thing, but Andrea shrugged this off and went inside to get dinner started. By the time Jason arrived, she had calmed herself with a few glasses of wine. She kissed him at the door and then led him to the kitchen. She laughed as she poured Jason a glass and handed it to him. “The funniest thing happened today at the Farmer’s Market. I could have sworn that I saw you there. The man looked just like you, except he was kissing some blond woman.” Andrea lifted a pot lid and stirred the sauce she had simmering on the stove while eyeing Jason from the corner of her eye. Jason took a long sip from his wine glass and then cleared his throat.

“Well…the thing is…” and then Jason started telling Andrea everything. He had met Janet around the same time he had met Andrea. Jason had been seeing both of them during these last six months. “I just can’t decide. You both are so great and I just don’t know what to do.” Andrea calmly set her now empty glass down on the kitchen counter, looked Jason squarely in the eye and said “Let me help you decide.” Then she showed him out of her apartment. Andrea leaned against the door and sobbed. Felix sat down beside her and started cleaning his face with his paws. Andrea got up from the floor, found a kleenex and blew her nose. Then she went to the kitchen and threw the dinner she had made into the trash. She grabbed a second bottle of wine and her glass and then wandered into her living room. Andrea’s phone was sitting on the coffee table. She could see text after text flashing across her screen. All from Jason. She ignored them and proceeded to get stupid drunk and talk to her cat.

Andrea continued to scratch Felix behind the ears. “Felix, you’re the only man I need.” Then she passed out, fully dressed, on her couch.

THE ACE OF CUPS, THE ACE OF RODS, AND THE QUEEN OF RODS

What sort of tale shall I weave from today's reading?

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Agatha stared out the carriage window at the passing forest scenery, her rosary clutched tightly in her hands. She closed her eyes and tried to let the sway of the carriage sooth the rising panic that threatened to boil up and out of her. Agatha opened her eyes at the sound of her brother clearing his throat. Theo looked her directly in the eyes and for the twentieth time asked “Agatha, are you sure you want to do this?” Agatha studied her older brother. Theo was the middle child, free of the responsibilities of the oldest male heir but with a promise of a life full of all the benefits bequeathed to males. He was already in the process of acquiring a fine education from a prestigious university. Agatha thought of the classes he was taking and the things he was learning and felt her current rising panic shift over to make room for jealousy.

“Theo. This is the last time you will ask me that question. All of my choices are grim. I can stay and have father marry me off to the highest bidder, I can join the convent and devote my life to God or I can drown myself in the river. Devoting my life to God seems to be the least grim of choices right now.” Agatha turned her head to once again look out the carriage window.

“But what about Eric?” Theo asked.

Agatha felt a pain in her chest at the mention of his name. How long had she loved him and he her? From the very beginning, when they were still very much children. Those were the days when Agatha was still allowed to run wild and free, playing rough and tumble with her brothers and the village children. Eric’s father was in charge of the stables on the estate and once Eric’s chores were finished, he would run to meet them in the fields, usually hauling a giant basket of fruit, cheese and bread packed up by one of the kitchen maids. Everyone would stop in mid tussle at the first sighting of Eric’s blond curls bouncing up the ridge and all would cheer with joy. Then we would all race to meet him and attack the basket of food. Eric always plucked the best plum or apple or pear out of the basket and would present this perfect piece of fruit to Agatha as if he was gifting her a jewel. Agatha would give anything to go back to those carefree days and forget all about the complications of growing up.

“What about him? What do you think? Do you think father is going to allow the stable boy to marry his daughter? Do you think Eric and I can just ride off into the sunset together? Don’t be naive. Though I will love Eric until the day I die, I am resigned to the fact that there is no possible future for us. I’m doing Eric a kindness by joining the Sisters. Remaining there where he would have to watch other men pawing all over me would be a torture. Or having to witness me marry another man, a man he knows that I will never love. Can’t this driver go any faster!” Agatha banged the ceiling of the carriage with her fist in frustration and yelled “Can’t we go faster?”

Agatha and Theo felt a jolt as the horses picked up their pace. She nervously rolled the beads of her rosary between her fingers. Agatha knew that her absence could be discovered at any moment. She had no doubt that her father would send his soldiers to drag her home. They could not touch her once she was enclosed behind the walls of the convent, but right now Agatha was in serious danger. She knew that if she were caught, her father would not just force her to come home. He would devise a cruel punishment for her to endure while he contemplated marriage contracts. Agatha also wanted to hurry because she feared losing her nerve. A cloistered life may sound easier than a life married to some troll of a man, but she had no doubt that sisterhood would pose its own set of challenges.

Agatha stared out the window. The carriage had left the forest behind and entered an open landscape. In the distance, Agatha could see the tall spires of the chapel surrounded by a tall wall. She swallowed hard and took a deep breath. Agatha immediately threw the word ‘prison’ from her mind and replaced it with ‘opportunity’. This would be a place where she would find ease and comfort, be filled with content by hard work and the love and support of her fellow sisters. Joining the convent was the only way that Agatha could take control of her own life. Agatha crossed herself and brought her rosary to her lips, finding comfort in this simple ritual as the carriage continued to make its way down the road.

THE EMPEROR, AN UPSIDE DOWN SEVEN OF PENTACLES, AND THE FOUR OF SWORDS

Today's fiction

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The Emperor: A mature man with conviction and the ability to execute plans and ideas; maintains an overview of all situations with stability, control, and reason. The Reverse of the Seven of Pentacles: Anxiety over economic status. The Four of Swords: Spiritual retreat, solitude and repose.

This week’s cards had me playing the ‘What if’ game and wondering what today would look like if we had a president who had taken this seriously from the very beginning.

“Mr. President! Mr. President! What about the impact of the infection rates?” the reporter yelled across the room, over all the other reporters yelling out questions.

“Sorry, son. You’re going to have to save that question for the doctor. I am no expert. What I can tell you is that I have gathered the best virologists, epidemiologists, and other specialists and they are working day and night on figuring this thing out. I have signed an executive order to release emergency funding for research and development for testing and vaccines. I am putting a Stay-At-Home order in effect immediately to control the spread of the virus. This means non-essential personal are required to stay home in oder to minimize the spread of the virus. If you do have to leave, you must wear a mask and maintain a distance of six feet from others. Follow all of the guidelines for minimizing infection as described by the CDC. Wash your hands. Sanitize common use areas. The White House website will have information updated daily, maybe even hourly, on timelines, infection rates, and death rates, as well as frequently asked questions regarding travel, quarantine and the virus. Look. I know this isn’t going to be easy. Our economy is going to suffer. People are going to be jobless. I have also signed executive orders to provide for those in financial need. I believe in our scientists. I believe in our country. We are going to beat this, but only if we take precautions now. I’ve said enough. I’m going to step back and let the doctors and specialists answer the rest of your questions. Thank you.”

The President exited the briefing room to the roar of the reporters yelling out questions and the flashes from cameras. As the door closed behind him, he leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes. He felt his stomach twist with worry and anxiety. This pandemic was going to get worse before it got better. He was sugar coating things when he said that the economy was going to suffer. The economy was going to take a hit not unlike the Great Depression. Unemployment was going to sky rocket. All he could do was pray and hope he had taken action quick enough to minimize the damage and control the outbreak. The President felt a nudge and then one of his aids said “Mr. President?” He waved the aid off and replied “just give me a minute.” He closed his eyes and said a silent prayer for all of the healthcare workers, the people who were suffering with the virus and the families who had lost loved ones. Then he nodded and headed to his office to continue working on strategies to get his country through this.

QUEEN OF RODS, KNIGHT OF RODS, AND KNIGHT OF SWORDS

A story

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This story is going to be told right to left instead of left to right because that is how this story came to me.

This is the story of Paul. Paul has lived whole life in a bubble of sorts. Born into wealth, Paul had never before had to work or wonder where money came from. Money was just there. Paul wanted a new shirt, Mummy just handed over her credit card. Paul decided he needed a brand new car, Daddy just wrote a check. Paul never questioned it and it didn’t even dawn on him to question it. Paul was the only child of two wealthy people who had also come from wealth. Daddy spent his days on the golf course. Those days were interrupted every third Thursday of every third month for a meeting with the board of directors who managed Daddy’s money. In these meetings, Daddy always nodded his head as if understanding what was being said and then ended the meeting with “That sounds just fine, boys. Keep doing what you’re doing.” Then he’d head out to the golf club. Mummy spent her days caring for her skin and looking for new wrinkles. Twice a year, she vacationed at a very exclusive spa in Fiji. She came home with tight skin and plump lips and a weird new juice diet that she would devote herself to until the next vacation. Paul lived a life of luxury without even knowing he was living a life of luxury. He just assumed his friends and truth be told, everyone else in the world lived a similar life of luxury.

Paul was clueless.

Then came the day that tragedy struck. Daddy suffered a massive coronary on the back nine of his exclusive golf course, killing him instantly. Of course this was devastating for Paul and Mummy, the worst part turned out to be that Daddy had not made any legal arrangements for his demise. Not only was there no will, but the board of directors in charge of the money had mis-handled that money. There was embezzlement and fraud and massive debt. Mummy and Paul were left destitute. Paul stood in the center of the massive entry way to their massive mansion and dumbly watched as movers carted off priceless works of art and antiques while Mummy stared in her mirror, crying and swallowing pills. Paul found her the next morning crumpled over her dressing table, her lifeless eyes still gazing at the mirror. Paul was not only destitute, but now he was an orphan. He buried Mummy next to Daddy on a rainy Wednesday. There was no one in attendance other than himself and Rosa, their cook.

Rosa had been the cook since before Paul was born. She had been the one he’d run to whenever he had a skinned knee or a splinter or hurt feelings and Rosa always greeted Paul with a warm hug and some sort of treat. Rosa treated Paul like her very own son. She scolded him when he needed scolding, made sure he did his homework and ate his vegetables. She nursed him when he was sick and handed out hugs with abandoned. Paul assumed that everyone had a Mummy who handed out credit cards, but paid little attention and a Rosa who handed out affection and always wanted to know how their day was going, who generally cared about the math test or the cricket match. Rosa patted Paul’s arm as they huddled together under the umbrella. She knew the her Paul was not prepared for the life ahead. He had never had to earn anything for himself, had never had do anything for himself. They watched as the cemetery workers began to fill in the grave. Rosa turned to Paul and said “You will come home with me. It will not be easy. You will have to share a room with my sister’s boy and you will have to get a job and earn your own money. But I will help you and teach you. You have a good heart Mister Paul. It will be a good foundation for your new life.”

Paul considered Rosa’s words and having no other thoughts of his own, agreed to live with Rosa and share a room with her sister’s boy.

UPSIDE DOWN THREE OF RODS, KNIGHT OF CUPS AND AN UPSIDE DOWN FOUR OF SWORDS

Today's source of fiction

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The man carefully drew back the curtain and peered out through the dirty window. He tilted his head to look up the street and then turned to look down the street. He didn’t see anything out of the ordinary other than the random car parked at odd angles in streets and yards. In fact, the street was relatively quit, particularly compared to the last few weeks. No one was running down the street screaming or on fire. That was a plus. He did not see groups of young men walking around with guns and knives and axes. The man didn’t even see a stray dog. From his window view, it appeared that the chaos and riots of the last few weeks had ended. He turned to the woman who was sitting on the floor in the middle of their living room, twisting the antenna for an old transistor radio around and fiddling with the dial.

“I’m getting nothing but static.” She said as she tossed the radio aside in disgust. The woman reached for the remote and turned on the TV. Test patters flickered on the screen as she flipped through all of the channels. “At least we still have electricity.” She turned the TV off and tossed the remote onto the coffee table. The man looked out the window again and then said “I think we should go out, go to the grocery store or just drive around the town and see if we can find someone who knows what’s going on.” The woman shook her head. “This is the first morning you’ve looked out there and it has been quit. The day hasn’t even really started. We don’t know what is going on out there. I’m staying put.”

The man walked away from the window and crouched on the floor in front of the woman. “Maybe nows the best time to go. All the crazies are sleeping off their rampages. We can’t stay here forever. Eventually we are going to have to go out and get food. We should take advantage of this moment of quit.” The woman sighed. The man did have a point. They were not set up to stay here indefinitely, but at the same time she wasn’t so sure they should rush out at the first sign of stillness. “I don’t think it’s a good idea. We should give it another day at least.” The man dug in his heels. He was going crazy with not knowing and being cooped up inside this house. “No. We should go. Now.” The woman, against her better judgment, nodded her head and said “Fine. Let’s go.”

They put on sturdy shoes, grabbed a couple of backpacks and some water. “Do you think we should make some sandwiches incase we get stranded?” the woman asked. “Nah, just throw in a couple of those granola bars. We’ll be back soon enough.” the man replied as he headed to the garage door in search of some sort of weapon. They were not gun people, so they’d have to make do with whatever they had on hand. He found his old baseball bat in a corner, covered with dust and cobwebs and grabbed it up. He took a few practice swings before placing it in the car. The woman stepped into the garage holding the backpacks and a couple of their largest kitchen knives. The man nodded his head in approval of her choice of weapons. She pointed to his golf bag. “What about a couple of those golf clubs? I bet those could do some damage.” The man balked. “Not my clubs! Those were expensive.” The woman leaned up from putting things into the car, placing her hands on her hips, she said “Really?!? When’s the last time you golfed? You’re going to have discernible taste for a weapon now? We gotta use what we have.” The man made a face and then pulled out two of his clubs. He was sure to grab his least favorite ones. He loaded them into the car and then pressed the button to raise the garage door. The woman started the car and slowly backed it out of the garage. Then the man closed the garage door. He motioned the woman to move over so he could drive. The woman rolled her eyes and then climbed over into the passenger seat.

They fastened their seatbelts and the man backed the car down the driveway. He turned the car west and they headed towards the mega-shopping center near the center of town. The woman stared out the window, gripping the handle of one of the knives she’d brought along. Her whole body was tense and her eyes darted around the landscape searching for any signs of movement or danger. The man carefully maneuvered the car down the street, occasionally driving up on the sidewalk in order to get around a randomly abandoned vehicle. The neighborhood was a wreck. Cars and trash littered the streets and yards. They passed a number of burned out homes, smoke still billowing up from remains. There were houses with broken windows and a few burned out cars. The woman looked for people, but saw no one. On one lawn, she saw a shoe, lonely and just laying there, and she worried about what had happened to the owner of that shoe. They continued to make their way out of the neighborhood.

“See. I told you. Everything’s going to be fine. No one is out. Everything’s calmed down. We’re going to get to the grocery store and find everything in order and probably full of happy people who have no idea about the chaos that’s been going on in our neighborhood.” the man said with confidence. The woman just looked at the man. Then she replied “Sure, we’ll run into Bob and Sue and tell them about what’s been happening in our neighborhood for the last three? no , four weeks and they’ll be all ‘Oh my God! We’ve heard about none of this! Everything has been kittens and rainbows for us.” The man scoffed at the woman’s sarcasm and just said “Just wait. You’ll see. Everything is going to be just fine.” Except that the closer they got to the mega-shopping center the worst the destruction became. They finally pulled into the giant parking lot of the shopping center only to see a well looted area. Broken windows and smoke rose up to greet them. The woman looked at the man and said “Now what?”

The man put the car in park and stared at the grocery store in the center of the shopping complex. He looked for signs of life, signs of danger. “We should go in and try to scavenge some food.” The woman shook her head and replied “No way. We are not going in there. We don’t know who or what is hiding out in that place. All of those isles and shelves, we’ll be like mice in a maze. I’m not going in there.” The woman crossed her arms and turned her head to look out the window, away from the man. “Come on. We’ve made it this far. What could go wrong? We’ve got weapons. We’ll be fine. I’m going. Are you just going to let me go in there by myself? You know I’ll only come back with cans fo chili. If you don’t go with me, you won’t have any of that healthy food stuff you like to eat. It will all be Cheetos and chili.” The woman snorted a laugh and said “Right, like they still have fresh vegetables and tofu.” The man opened his car door and replied “Oh, I’m sure they still have tofu. No one’s going to loot that crap.” The woman rolled her eyes. She was beginning to feel eye strain from all of the eye rolling she’d done in recent days, but she opened her car door and tentatively stepped out.

They both slammed their car doors at the same time and then ducked and looked around to see if anyone was coming towards them or poking their heads up at the sound. It seemed clear. The woman moved her body while wielding the knife, making a few practice jabs. “Okay. If we’re going to do this, let’s go and get it over with.” Then the man with his baseball bat and the woman with her kitchen knife made their way to the grocery store with no knowing of what they may find or what might greet them.

THE ACE OF SWORDS, THE KING OF CUPS AND THE NINE OF CUPS

Today's writing prompt

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The day was already setting up to be a right boiler as Vivian swept the hair away from her already damp forehead. It was still early morning but it was already steamy. Vivian moved as quickly as she could down St. Ann’s, dodging the usual garbage and muck that ended up on the sidewalks in New Orleans. Vivian played a game with herself that she called “Homeless or Hipster”. Either one could be the lump passed out on the sidewalk or being shooed out of a business doorway. Vivian loved this city, had even stuck it out during Hurricane Katrina, but she was growing tired of the drunken tourists that plagued the city. Ironic since it was taking advantage of those very same tourists that provided her with a little bit of extra income. Vivian shook her head at herself. She was not taking advantage of them. She told them the truth and the possibilities that may present themselves. It was fortune telling. Vivian, herself, would never throw her money away on such knowledge passed on based on intuition and hunches. A drawing of cards.

Vivian hitched her bag up onto her shoulder as she crossed over into Jackson Square. She could see that her usual spot was empty. Vivian hated it when she had to get into a turf war with some upstart fortune teller. The new ones were the worst, wearing turbans and scarves and arranging crystals around their crystal balls. Amateurs. Vivian fished a key out of her pocket and unlocked the padlock on the chain that secured her table and chairs to the decorative garden gate. Of course, storing things in the gardens of Jackson Square was illegal, but Vivian was neat and camouflaged her things in with the lush greenery that one would have to look really hard to find it. Plus, she had been doing this for years because this is where her mother had stored their things and her mother’s mother. The women in Vivian’s family had been reading the cards for as long as this city was alive. Vivian was not sure if it had been a family intention to become a household of fortune tellers, but here she was, generations later setting up the same table her mother had set up every morning, often with Vivian’s help.

Vivian pulled the table cloth from her bag and spread it over the table. She checked her bag for the tenth time that morning that she had her change bag with her and placed her thermos of coffee on the table. After pouring herself a cup of strong chicory coffee, she pulled her deck of cards from her bag and started to aimlessly shuffle them while she surveyed her surroundings. Charlie, the security guard was shaking his head at some turban, silk robe wearing figure. She must be new and didn’t have a permit. Charlie was chasing her off. Vivian made a note to bring Charlie a good treat for lunch. She looked across the square to see Madame Corinne struggling to set up her table. Madame Corinne was old. No one knew how old the woman was or really anything about her, but she’d been setting up her table across the square from Vivian’s family table well before Vivian’s mother had been born. All kinds of rumors circled around about Madame Corinne. She was a voodoo queen and had sold her soul to the Devil. None of it was true. Madame Corinne was just an old woman who had spent her life telling stories to strangers. Madame Corinne wasn’t even her real name. It was Ruth Fromm.

Vivian grabbed her bag because you never left your bag unattended and ran across the square to help Madame Corinne. Vivian yelled out “Wait, Mrs. Corinne. Let me help you!” and then she took the cumbersome table from the Madame. “Oh Vivie, I don’t know what I’d do if you decided to stop coming to the square so early in the mornings. My grandchildren keep telling me I’m too old to do this and I need to just stop. But they won’t even sit still, let alone pay me, to tell my stories. What I am supposed to do all day? Knit booties?” Madame Corinne laughed which turned into a cough which was normal. The woman smoked like a chimney. She really was a specimen of wonder. Vivian finished setting up the table and chairs. Then she got Madam Corinne settled. “I’ll check on you around lunch time and get your order for the deli.” Vivian said as she patted the old woman’s shoulder. “You take such good care of me. Your mama raised you well. She’d be so proud. Have you read your cards this morning, dear?” This was something Vivian’s mother had started. Every morning she read the cards for herself. She said it prepared her for reading the cards to strangers. Vivian had continued to do this even after mother had passed. “Not yet, Madame Corinne. I’ll do it as soon as I get back to my spot.” With that Vivian made her way back to her own table.

Again, she shuffled the cards. This time she drew three cards and laid them out on the table before her. They were the same three cards she’d drawn for herself yesterday and the day before. She made a face and mumbled “opposites” under her breath. Two of her cards were their reverse meaning. Reverse meanings tended to lean to the negative. She looked at these cards and saw weakness, shallow and selfish behavior. The last card, The Nine of Cups, is the one that threw her. The Nine of Cups represents achievement, completion and self satisfaction. It was a card of well being. Her pick of cards was easy to interpret. So easy that even that turbaned newbie Charlie had shooed away could have given an accurate reading. Vivian needed to stand up for herself. She needed to be strong. She peeked down into her bag and saw the urn that she carried with her every day. Her mother’s ashes. Vivian’s mother had left specific instructions for her ashes and Vivian was still carrying them around with her because she just couldn’t seem to let them go. It was a bit selfish of her, but Vivian wasn’t completely convinced that finishing the task of scattering her mother’s ashes would lead her to sense of well being.

Vivian noticed a few early morning tourists making their way into the square. She placed the cards back into the deck and started shuffling.

THE HIEROPHANT, THE QUEEN OF SWORDS AND THE FOOL

Three cards

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Okay, these three people walk into a bar. The Hierophant immediately asks the bartender how he’s doing. The Queen of Swords tosses a bag of coin onto the bar and tells the bartender she’s paying for herself and these other two. The Fool grins and says “In that case, I’ll have two!” The bartender serves the beer or wine or whisky, take your pick, and the three proceed to sit at the bar and drink their drinks. As they sip their drinks The Hierophant starts talking about spirituality. He starts going on and on about good will to others and how people should behave. The Queen of Swords listens to his drivel with suspicion. You see, she doesn’t trust his words because they’ve been traveling together for some time and she’s seen him in action.

The Queen of Swords remembered a specific moment in their travels when they passed a prisoner who was suspended in a cage hanging from a sturdy tree branch. The poor, almost skeletal figure barely registered the three’s presence as they approached. When they were near enough, The Fool rapped on the metal cage with the stick he was always carting around with him and said “You sir! Why are you in this cage?” The prisoner lifted his head, his dirty scraggly hair hanging in his face, and said “I stole a loaf of bread.” The Queen of Swords shifted on the saddle of her horse and said “This seems a rather extreme punishment for steeling a simple loaf of bread. How long have you been up there?” The prisoner coughed a raspy cough and shook his head. “I forget. Days, weeks, months. Too long to count.” The Hierophant wrinkled his nose in disgust at the prisoner. “He’s a thief! Why are we waisting our time here. Let’s move on.” he said impatiently. The Queen of Swords scowled at The Hierophant and then removed her water flask from her side bag. She then removed the bread from that same bag and tore a very generous piece from it. She lifted the water and the bread to the prisoner. “Sir, please drink some water from my flask and eat this bread. The Fool and I will figure a way to get you down and free of that cage.” The Hierophant just shook his head. Then he dismounted from his horse and found a soft patch of grass to lie on for a little nap while The Queen of Swords and The Fool worked to free the prisoner.

Now, weeks later and with that moment clear in her memory, The Queen of Swords looked The Hierophant squarely in the eye and said “You sir, are the reverse of a hierophant and I think maybe this is where we should part ways.” She finished her drink in one slightly un-lady like gulp, and stood to leave. The Queen of Swords paused and turned towards The Fool. She was still undecided about that one. He made the silliest, most unthoughtful choices, like the time he lost all of his money in that rigged cup game, but he did make her laugh. The Fool was also a very good listener and paid attention to the things she said. He had helped her free that prisoner without any second thought. Maybe she’d keep him around for a little bit longer. The Queen of Swords tapped The Fool on the shoulder and said “Finish up your drinks and let’s get going. There’s more to see before the sun sets.” The Fool drank up and waved a thank you to the bartender. He slapped the Hierophant on the shoulder and said “sorry dude.”

Then The Queen of Swords and The Fool headed out to see what they could see.

YAYA MAGIC PANTS

Light catchers

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We gathered at the Yokalanda Lodge and Camp for Youth. The camp is nestled in the Yokalanda Woods. Established in 1957 by Earl and Rosie Feldstein, the camp has been a summer haven to underprivileged youth from all over the country. There are twenty cabins scattered through the hills and at the center of it all is the main lodge. The lodge is the beating heart of that camp. The main open room of the lodge is where all the campers gathered for meals and inside crafts. Depending on the weather, s’mores and stories were shared around the large fireplace that sat it one end of large room. In 1965, Earl died suddenly and unexpectedly from a heart attack. Finding herself unable to manage the camp, Rosie sold the camp and property to Billy and Ayleen Hershel.

Billy and Ayleen had originally planned to turn the camp into a commune. They had invited fifteen of their closest friends to join them in communal living, raising goats and growing their own vegetables. Ten of those friends agreed. That first year started off with the worst winter the area had ever seen with record snow fall and below freezing temperatures. The goats that didn’t freeze, were taken by wild animals. The hilly landscape proved to be too rocky for planting. The ten people who had agreed to join Billy and Ayleen all agreed now that communal living was not for them. Billy and Ayleen were forced to sell out to Carry and Diane McNabb. Carry and Diane turned the camp back into a summer camp for youth. After all this time, the two women still ran the camp, though in recent times and with less funding, the camp has seen better days. To make ends meet, Carry and Diane have opened up the Yokalanda Lodge in the off seasons to various retreats. Just last month an up and coming tech company rented the retreat for a managers training session. The Pakempsey Shakespearean Company rented out the camp for a whole month while they rehearsed their summer traveling program of King Lear. This weekend the Yokalanda Lodge was hosting a small group of artists for a weekend of workshops built around unlocking creativity.

The weekend consisted of various workshops of various themes such as How to Monetize Your Art, Authenticity and Integrity in Creativity , Conquering Your Fear of Success and Telling Your Story. There were trust falls and roll playing and vision board building. But the real breakthroughs happened outside of those workshops. In the evenings, after their communal vegan dinner, the artists would break off into smaller groups gathering around campfires and on cabin porches. There was always wine and the occasional passing of joint and they told each other their deep fears and they opened their souls to each other. It was in these moments that true cathartic release occurred. Tears flowed. Realizations were made. Plans were formed. Pacts were made. Bonds were formed. By the end of the weekend, as cars were being loaded up and cabins were being swept clean, the artists of that weekend retreat found themselves each quietly trying to process their experience from the past two days. Words were barely spoken until all were loaded up and ready to head out on their separate ways. They gathered to say their goodbyes. This was the moment that proved to be the most difficult of moments. They found themselves unprepared to say their farewells. They held each other tight as tears streamed down their faces. Then they got in their cars and headed out on their separate ways, fortified with their experience of this retreat and knowing that they would always have each others love and support.

That’s probably the best way to put into words what this weekend was like for me. I spent it at the Yokalanda Lodge. I have the bug bites to prove it.

IN THE SAME CATEGORY AS BLOO AND DROP DEAD FRED

Alien

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Chris blindly reached his hand over to grab his favorite pen, except the pen was not there. Chris felt certain he’d left that pen there on the side table. He continued to blindly pat around on the table, searching for his pen. Finally he got up and looked over the top of the side table. He picked up his books and papers that he had stacked there. Still, Chris did not see his pen. He frowned as he set the books and papers back onto the side table and scratched his head. He was almost certain that was the last place he saw that pen. Maybe it rolled off the table, Chris thought. So, he got down on his hands and knees and started rummaging around on the floor, looking under the table and that corner of the couch. He was really starting to frustrated when Cindy walked into the living room. “What are you doing?” she asked. Her question startled Chris enough to make him jump and then bump his head on the bottom of the couch. Chris replied through gritted teeth “I’m looking for my favorite pen.” Cindy tilted her head to one side and said “which one?” Chris sighed heavily, “You know. The metal one with the orange ring around the top. I know I left it on this table, but it’s not here.” Cindy walked over to the coffee table and picked up one of Chris’s journals. She opened the journal and extracted Chris’s favorite pen. “This one?” she said as she held the pen up. Chris smiled and reached to take the pen from her hand. “Yes! That one!”

It’s a story I wrote on Saturday, in the Fortune Cookie journal. The prompt had something to do with writing your hearts desires or dreams or something like that. It’s the first time since I’ve started writing in that journal where I used Chris and I as characters. The story is fiction, but could have easily been something that really happened. You did not have to know Chris long to know he had a thing for pens. And journals. I have a superpower that I mostly never mention and that’s an ability to just know where stuff is. This is why it was so weird that I couldn’t find my scooter key after Chris died. I might not know exactly where everything is, but I can usually give you three locations of possibility and whatever it is you’re looking for is guaranteed to be in one of those three spots. I’m not saying that I can do this all the time, but it happens just often enough for some people really close to me to notice my abilities.

It’s quite possible that I only thought I was writing a fictitious story about a moment in the day and life of Chris and Cindy. That’s the thing about these memories. As time passes, the memories start to feel like dreams or wishes. No one here got a chance to really know Chris or even meet him. When I talk about my life before, the life when Chris was still alive, it sounds like I’m talking about a pretend life. Sometimes I feel like Christopher Robin explaining to a grown up about the existence of his best friend, Winnie the Pooh. Chris is some imaginary person. If only I could just walk down the street to Madame Foster’s and hang out with him. Oh, the shenanigans we’d get into or the movies we’d watch. You know what’s dumb? If that was at all possible, that is exactly what we’d end up doing. All those questions I have for him? I’d completely forget to ask any of them. The answers wouldn’t matter anymore.

I’ve been working hard at being present in this current life. When I find myself in a small-talk kind of conversation with a stranger and they ask me how long I’ve lived in Kansas City, I’ve started saying that I moved here about seven years ago (or is it eight?). I don’t say “My late husband and I moved here about seven years ago.” I’ve stopped including Chris in my story of the move to Kansas City. I don’t know why. Maybe because it’s just easier, less confusing. Leaving him out of it ensures that I will not get that look of sympathy that usually makes me cringe and I don’t have to answer any follow up questions regarding how he died or what life is like as a widow. I don’t have to explain anything. For a moment I can pretend to be someone else, someone without a sad backstory. Only for a moment. Eventually I slip up and say something about a late husband.

I’d make a terrible undercover agent.

SCSC, PART 2

Twin Rocks

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Ida’s best friend, Myrtle, lived in the local nursing home. Myrtle’s son, Howard, had moved his mother into the Hanalei Assisted Living Center a year ago after Myrtle had accidentally set her kitchen on fire. It was a simple mistake, one all of us have made. Myrtle had forgotten to turn off the burner after boiling water in her tea kettle. She had never had a ‘senior moment’ before and Howard latched onto this one with might. Myrtle knew that her son wanted her out of her bungalow so he could sell it to developers. Her house on the beach had become hot property. Myrtle was contacted almost weekly by some developer or another offering her an outrageous sum of money for her tiny little house. Howard had not thought twice before dropping his mother off at Hanalei Assisted Living and was probably living it up in Oahu with the fortune he’d acquired from selling Myrtle’s house.

Myrtle didn’t really mind too much. As a mother, she wanted her son to have everything he dreamed of having. If that meant putting her into assisted living and selling her house, then so be it. What she did mind was the center’s strict rules and prison style schedules. The director of the center refused to let patients go any where near the beach, let alone try to stand on a surfboard. They were relegated to exercising on a treadmill in the gym or walking the gardens attached to the backside of the center. The gardens backed up to a wildlife refuge, so the bird watching was good, but bird watching and surfing where incomparable. Myrtle longed for the ocean, her board and escape. Ida visited every day and the two of them would sit in the rockers on the large verandah that surrounded the main building, plotting Myrtle’s escape.

One day, Ida was explaining how she’d heard that you could mix a few drops of Visine into someone’s coffee and it would give that person explosive diarrhea. “We could put some in the security guard’s coffee and the orderly’s soda drink.” “That doesn’t really work.” Ida and Myrtle looked up as a tall older gentleman with stooped shoulders dragged a rocker over and settled himself in it. “Bernard Muller. I don’t mean to listen in but I want the same thing you two seem to want. Freedom and surf.” After Bernard, came Lelani Kahale who wasn’t so much interested in surfing as she was just being able to get in the ocean with her snorkel, mask and spear for fishing. Lelani brought Alexi Sokolov into the group. She’d been eating her meals with this man since she moved into the center and he told her fantastical stories of being a Russian spy. She thought his skills might come in handy.

So now, they were a group of five, not counting Ida’s new apprentice, Floyd who didn’t realize yet that he was also a part of this group and would in fact play a pivotal role in their escape plan.