I recently indulged in a new deck— Murder of Crows by Corrado Roi! (The Vault of Midnight is going to absolutely drain my bank account in the next few years.)
While I usually prefer the vibrancy of my other two decks, this one is so gorgeous. It reminds me of my assignments for art class in high school where I clutched my graphite because color pencils are messy and ruin everything.
This deck is also perfect for the Halloween season! So I’m going to use it as my primary deck for the whole of October.
Coincidentally, one of the stories I’m working on for a class right now is in line with the spooky theme, so expect future readings to be in a similar vein 😉
On with the story!
The Ace of Pentacles is drawn — “a prosperous beginning, careful planning.”
Amina looks past frosted glass into the dead city below. 9 pm is usually the time for young people to go out and dance while drinking various martinis. But now even they are too tired to go out — too sick.
Disease pervades them all. Even those who are not in bed hover near it, prepared for the dreaded fainting spells they witnessed dear ones fall to. Not Amina, though. She has no loved ones to observe falling sick; she’s only heard gossip on the streets, back when there was less fear.
But do not mistake her for being afraid. No, she’s simply following the trends. How they all react — and how she can take advantage of that.
. . .
Robert is not sick. But the rest of his family is, and he has no means to take care of them. He has a master’s in engineering, yet now wishes he’d followed his mother’s advice to go into medicine.
He glances over at her. Her once beautiful and rosy face is now gaunt and sickly. If she were healthier she would reprimand him with an I told you so.
He yearns for it desperately.
He walks downstairs to get some water when he hears shuffling from the outside. He pauses in his steps. Who would be out now?
He thinks he hears knocking.
He slows his breathing, feeling too heavy for the hardwood floor.
The doorbell rings.
His breath hitches.
Stupid, he calls himself. They used to get visitors all the time before this crisis. What’s so daunting about someone visiting now?
He leaves his cup, filled by the sink. Then goes to open the door.
He curses.
“I hear someone is sick here?” The creature is a bit shorter than him and it speaks in a low hum. Is it a costume?
It shuffles beneath its heavy black robe, looking so antiquated along with that beak-shaped mask. Where has he seen such a thing before?
“I asked if someone was sick here?” Robert forgot that he had to speak.
“Oh, um yes . . .” Is it even safe to answer?
“Good,” it concludes satisfied.
Robert can’t help but feel offended by this. “Good?”
“Yes. I’m a doctor, so I can help?”
Doctor?
“You don’t look like a doctor.”
“Of course I am,” it stresses.
He imagines eyes rolling underneath that crow mask.
“I’m a plague doctor.”
. . .
To be continued . . . (next Thursday!)
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