1. The High Priestess
“A-Are you sure? Are you certain?” the man stuttered, his voice dripping with anxiety and fear.
“I’m afraid so. You will almost certainly be killed tomorrow by midnight.” The woman stared back at him without seeing his face.
This man’s name was Franklin Hart. The blindfolded woman who sat in the chair across from him was a seer. Her name doesn’t matter. They were in a small room in a small building, floor and walls covered in dark purple silks and fabrics, no outside light entering the room, a small lantern on the table separating them. And one deck of tarot cards spread out across the table. Three cards were faceup in front of Franklin.
“That… That can’t be right. Ask it again.” Franklin never considered himself superstitious, and it was true that he wasn’t, but… something about the woman was off. Different. The blindfold must have had something to do with it. Doesn’t it always?
“It would be the same. You can’t change your own Fate.” The woman’s face was always turned towards Franklin, despite the fact that she couldn’t see him. At least, she couldn’t in the conventional way.
“Just… Just do it again. Please.” Franklin tapped his finger on his leg rapidly, nervously. He was completely wrapped in the intrigue. It was enveloping him, choking him, even.
The seer sighed and recollected the cards. She shuffled the deck and fanned it out again. “Pick three.” Franklin took three at random. It wasn’t random though. He felt a tiny, unnoticeable urge to take these three cards. These three cards that were the same as the last ones. The Five of Cups, the Moon, and Death.
“Your answer can’t change. You’ll be killed tomorrow.” She laid her hands on the table. “I’m sorry. There’s rarely anything that can be done when it comes to death.” Franklin could hardly hear her. He stared down at the cards in silence, his face pale. The seer snapped her fingers to get his attention. He looked back up at her.
“This doesn’t make any sense. Why tomorrow?” he asked.
“I can’t tell you that. What I do know is that you have a rare luxury. You know when you’re going to die. Not many people can say that. Why don’t you spend your last day the way you want to?” Her face remained unchanged. Her mouth was an emotionless line.
Franklin narrowed his eyes with suspicion. “Wait a second… This is all fake, isn’t it?” “Excuse me?” The seer’s face scrunched up as she was filled with emotion, which usually wasn’t like her.
“You heard me. This is all some elaborate set up just to mess with me, isn’t it?” “I… I never-” Before the seer could defend herself, Franklin foolishly cut her off.
“None of this is real, I bet. What’s your motive? How did you rig the tarot card deck? Are they all the same three cards?” The seer stared at him through her blindfold and silently fanned the cards out on the table, face up. All seventy-eight cards were different. She pulled one card out without looking. She could never look.
“I believe now that this card may be better suited for you.” She placed the Fool down in front of him.
Franklin chuckled. “So you take me for a fool? Is that it?” He flicked the card back to her.
“If you would listen to me-” Again, the Fool played his role.
“No. I’m not going to waste my time here anymore. I’m leaving this scam.” He stood up from his chair and walked to the door. Just as he grabbed the handle, her voice broke the air. Shattered it. “I suggest you take your words back, Mr. Hart.” He turned back to look at her. “Fate never shines favorably on the Fool.”
Franklin scoffed and turned the doorknob.
“At least,” he looked back, one foot out the door, “take this.” The seer held up the Fool. “As a reminder. I have a feeling you’ll need a reminder. You are your own worst enemy.”
Franklin looked at the card, then walked out the door. As the door slowly closed, he heard the seer’s last words.
“Careful out there, Mr. Hart. You deserve not to be saved from Death the inevitable. Justice is coming for you.”
Franklin walked down the street for two blocks before deciding that what he said really was too brash. He turned back in order to apologize to the woman. When he pulled on the knob though, it was locked. He looked inside through the window. The entire place was empty. No table, no fabrics on the wall, no lamps. He must have come to the wrong building. Yes, that must be it. There was no way that the shop could be cleared away so quickly after he left. Little did he know that it very much was possible for the seer. As Franklin looked around to find the “right” shop, he heard a faint giggle of laughter come from the shop he stood in front of. He checked again, but still, it was empty. That laugh sent a shiver down his spine. He hurried away as quickly as he could. After three blocks, a cold wind started up, and he put his hands in his pockets to keep warm. He stopped dead in his tracks. There was something in his pocket that shouldn’t have been. He pulled it out slowly. It was that tarot card, the Fool. His cheeks drained of color. He threw the card away and walked even faster.
When he arrived at his home, he immediately ran to the medicine cabinet in his bathroom. He yanked it open and searched frantically for something. He finally found it and pulled it out. A small bottle of prescription anxiety medication. He had gotten it from a doctor a few weeks prior for a recent bout of insomnia, but he never opened it. He didn’t exactly embrace the thought of using chemicals to change how his mind worked. He felt like he needed it then, however. He pulled the cap off after a few seconds of struggling and shook a pill out into the palm of his hand. He brought it to his mouth and stopped. He looked at himself in the mirror. What am I doing? he thought. I don’t need this. This isn’t real. It’s just my paranoia telling me it is. He dropped the pill back in the bottle and placed it back in the cabinet. He still felt uneasy though, so he brought the bottle back out and placed it on his nightstand, just in case.
As he laid down on the bed, he stared at the little pill bottle.
What if I do die tomorrow?
