Black on Black

The caste of black exudes an aura even when the colors are hidden beneath the toil of winter cloak. I have never been afraid of this questionable caste, I think, because I am not afraid to die. We live in violent times, where words must be guarded and actions must be as unobtrusive as the very air we breathe. There are nights I lay in my sleeping couch, wondering where the golden thread of my life will end, or how it will come about. Depressing thoughts, but it is these thoughts that allow me to treasure the here and now. To allow me to live my life to the fullest. Everyone should be so lucky.

The eve was late, a trio of moons hung high in the cold glitterati of night’s sky. The street was nearly empty, save me and another dark soul who was moving towards me. He was a man I had seen before and he recognized me as well. Though no names had been exchanged, faces are not soon forgotten.

Conversation came about, first the topic of my shop. It seemed to me that it was missing something. Then our talk turned to the cards. "Do you wish to know what the future holds? Do you see through a veil of blood Sir? Is your future .. clear?"

“You have read me. No one’s future is clear, Lady. You, above all, know this.”

"But you see, it is clear. The moment it is read, it is the clearest thing in the world. Of course, what you do after that point does effect whether or not the vision holds. We are all keepers of our own destiny, but that destiny is written, perhaps not in stone, but written indeed. Would you like the cards to tell a tale for you?"

“ I would.”

I had known he would since the ehn I had seen him walking down the street.

I read by the glow of streetlamps, and he was ever a rapt customer. The Slave Card. The Sardar. The Star. All cards of the major Arcana, which in itself is a rare thing.

He left me with a silver, even as I left him with words of advice. A fair exchange, if ever an exchange was made.