occult fiction

Unrequited

A story inspired by a Tarot card

A shining star in the distance Begets the quiet night

Before There Was Time

On a misty autumn morning, J. found himself wandering aimlessly on the empty streets of the small town he has been spending the last few weeks at. When he headed out of the apartment this morning, he thought about going towards the park but soon his thoughts dissipated and echoed in the solitude of his existence. It was clear from his pace that he did not care about the destination, nor did he pay any attention to the washed out colors of the mundane world. He needed some fresh air though, because the previous night was more difficult than he could ever anticipate.

He had found himself studying the same card for many days in a row, to no avail. He was sure that he had looked at all the details, all nuances, and all crevices of the Maker’s devotion to the craft. Still, there were no palpable results. “What am I missing?”, he was ruminating throughout whole nights that seemed endless, even compared to eternity. No one was there to answer him though. J. was determined to find the answer by himself. After all, he needed some validation after all these years that the path he is treading on leads to the promised Land.

During his walk through the mist, he enjoyed the sound of stepping on the fallen leaves in the park. “This is one of the few enjoyable things I have left in this vessel”, he thought as he purposefully stepped on a bigger pile of leaves. He was getting closer to the park’s lake, when he spotted a man in a black trench coat in the distance. J. decided to sit down at a nearby bench, where he could observe the man without raising any suspicion. Pertaining to this, J.’s favorite way to pass the time in this small town was to observe humans, trying to decipher their moves, their emotions, and even their beliefs. He took out his leather-bound notebook and his pen, getting ready to jot down any thoughts that would arise.

The man in the distance had black hair, was quite tall, and held a pipe or something that looked a lot like it. “Of course, what else could it be?”, J. thought and noted his first observations. The man was standing eerily still, like a statue. “Perhaps he is trying to decide on something important”, J. thought again but hesitated to write it down. Looking again, it appeared that the man was holding a smaller object in his left hand, that he would get out of his pocket every so often. “That must be a pocket watch, he is waiting for someone”, J. wrote down before quickly erasing “someone” and replacing it with “a woman”. Suddenly the man turned around towards the direction J. was sitting. J. quickly glanced down at his notebook and pretended to be reading. After a minute or so, J. turned his head to see that the strange man was still in the same position. J. was getting quite good at noticing the movements of others without looking at them directly, even from a distance. That is exactly why he was so quick to spot the Shadows.

He was looking at his notes so far, trying to make sense of the strange man. When he looked again, the man was not alone. A woman was there with him, J. did not know how long she was there. “Damn it, how did I miss that?”, he muttered angrily as he wrote down some observations about the woman. “I need more practice”, he wrote on the border of the page. He spent some time observing the two people in the distance, but he was getting bored. It was the first time since his Awakening that he has not been able to register any emotions or thoughts from others. He stood up as a soft breeze blew through his hair and a flock of small birds flew in the sky above him.

On his first step he made sure to crunch some leaves, and on his second step away from the bench he turned around to make sure he did not leave any of his belongings behind. While he was ready to take the third step away from the bench, a flushing realization hit him on the head like a thunderbolt. He quickly sat back down, took out his notebook and noted:

It is possible that I cannot sense anything from them because they are stronger than me. Possibly they have protection or some sort of a shield. If that is true, then I was successful last night. The gate is opened. Time is not standing still, I am.

Seeing The Cards

The purple candle was nearly burned out when J. began regaining his consciousness. It was early in the morning, possibly around 7:30 and it was still quite dark outside. A few sun rays were illuminating the fog outside and provided some light so J. could find the switch for his table lamp. He looked around on his messy desk, and let out a sigh of relief. His notebook was still there, along with his pen. He opened the notebook and read his latest entry. For a moment he was not sure whether he really went to the park. He was not even sure if the two people there were real. It did not matter though, because he was adamant that he was getting near to the end of the Labyrinth.

On the border of page 25 he had a scribble of a raven wearing a crown, and the number 283 written underneath it. “That’s strange”, he thought as he looked through the pages. He could clearly remember the small note he put on the border while he was at the park, and he was sure that he definitely did not draw a raven. A knock on his door interrupted his train of thought. “It must be time”, he said to himself while rushing to put on a shirt. He opened the door and he only caught a glimpse of a person walking quickly down the stairs. On his doormat there was a moonstone and a dried rose. He spent a few moments looking at the objects before carefully picking them up. He locked the door behind him and smelled the rose. The moonstone was fairly small but very pretty. He held it against the early morning light and smiled.

A sudden gust of wind shook his window, and J. realized that it had been three days since the last time he ate something. Possibly he had not gone out in all these days, but he could not be sure. He could call Peter from the bakery on the corner, to ask him if he had seen him at all going in or out, but it would be meaningless. J. was used to wandering the streets on unusual hours and Peter was a busy man. J. sat down on his couch and looked at the stone and the rose, one in each hand. “It is true,” he thought, “the swan is dead”.

The Tunnel

In one of J.’s trips to the realm of conscious awakening, he reached the place where primordial life was just being born. He was engulfed by a timeless and limitless sense of power, and was surrounded by billions of light clusters that vibrated as if they were communicating with one another in a way J. could not grasp. He floated there in awe, looking around only to be blinded by the light. He reached out and touched one of the clusters, and felt an electric shock running through his body. He knew that he was witnessing the birth of the Land of the Dark Immortals. The humming of the vibrations of the clusters was slowly getting interrupted by the sound of his alarm clock. His meditation time was finished just as Eorthe faded away.

He got his voice recorder and narrated in as many details as he could what he had just witnessed. The rose was on the floor by his feet. “I must have dropped it during my trance”, he thought as he gently picked it up. The moonstone had slipped between the cushions of the couch but it was easy for him to find it. He opened the small drawer of the side table next to the couch and fetched a burgundy pouch. He carefully placed the moonstone inside the pouch. “That’s so I won’t lose you again little friend”, he said jokingly and felt the stone softly vibrating. He got up and stretched a bit, and walked towards the table where his notebook and his pen were.

On page 31 he had written the following:

It is as if I am overtaken by a force I cannot explain. I have not managed to locate the man or the woman I believe I saw a couple days ago. I feel that I am on the right track, yet there is no response. Yesterday I had the most beautiful vision yet: I went to the Tunnel and met the Source. I was there before the Land was created. I exited the Labyrinth. Now I am back, and the sensation is fading. The swan has not been born yet.

A luminous presence, a story foretold, There never has been a day more cold, Than the endless abyss of continuous struggle, When everything ceases to be and all is born. The womb carries the secret, The concealment of the beacon lights the way.

Thanks to Timpoa for inviting me to this challenge of writing a story inspired by a Tarot card.

If you made it this far, thank you for reading!