The Tarot's History Games are meant to illicit certain sensations, an emotional and thoughtful response from those who engage with its rules. The tarot is no different. It’s existed since the 15th century with some occultists claiming that it is far older, dating back to the Old Kingdom of Egypt. But before it was used … Continue reading A Hint of the Occult, art. 2 – Drawing the Wheel, and other things about Tarot.
Some Are Dead – 4. The Day of Jupiter
Even when he opens his eyes, Husher tastes the asphalt and blood in his mouth. He’s lying on the broken pavement outside of the gas station, a few brave strands of grass against his cheek. From the ground he can see the booth, a body crumbled inside; the obvious question can’t be answered. He pushes … Continue reading Some Are Dead – 4. The Day of Jupiter
Some Are Dead – 3. Dying in Carpocrates
They come through us as if we were doors. They open us up, they eat and kill, and then they’re gone. Just like that. We’re left to pick up the pieces. It’s turning out be a long dream, same time every time. 10:01 PM. He goes into the house one hot summer night. The clouds … Continue reading Some Are Dead – 3. Dying in Carpocrates
The Gorgon Syndrome
Be the shadow of the sundial; the narrow valley on the stone. That's what they say to the contracted. That's what they said to me when they marked me and sent me to the garden of statues. Statues that take the form of men and women and children in various stages of unrest. Some are … Continue reading The Gorgon Syndrome
A Glimpse of Baghdad, 21XX AD.
He stood in the shadow of the gateway, a high smooth stone arch with a dome top ordained in the ancient architecture of Islamic Conquest. It had been damaged by artillery fire, smouldering black rocks lay broken and sandy at his feet. The road that stretched to the capital building, laden with similar destruction, was … Continue reading A Glimpse of Baghdad, 21XX AD.
The Teller of Tales
They had been cooped up in the bunker for six years when the supplies finally ran dry. In the last of those months she had to bury her husband, who killed himself during the acid winter, and the canary he insisted on keeping. Once the clouds cleared into spring she found his half-burnt corpse outside … Continue reading The Teller of Tales
XII. The Train
The rider sits in the aisle seat as the woman insisted on the window. She feels the cloth of the dress he bought her; it is cotton and blue. Though she hates it she does not protest and simply retains her silence as the town begins to fade to the slow, heavy breaths of the … Continue reading XII. The Train
XI. The Road Agent
Miles go without words and the sun passes to the moon then again to the sun. It is as it was; cycles of silence where the breath of the wind is loud and disturbing. The rider chews on his last cheroot and exhales the smoke from his nose. The woman is behind him and frowns … Continue reading XI. The Road Agent
X. The Deer Woman
The rider once heard a story of the deer woman. It is said she has lived in the mountains for a thousand years and appears only to feed on travelers. She lures men from the path as they journey and, upon their approach, tramples them to death. The rider made no plans for such a … Continue reading X. The Deer Woman
IX. The Vision
This is the passage; a fanged tunnel where the stalactites drip with something not water and burns on his palm which caught a drop. He looks down the tunnel and hears his voice again. It is a dream or he has died, at last, and proceeds toward the darkness knowing it is as strongly behind … Continue reading IX. The Vision
Dead Scribe 