Author: suparnah

Part I, II

“My medicine works especially well on women.”

What a strange claim to make. The thought makes Robert hesitate. It feels like such a lie.

Yet, sacrificing caution, Robert believes it. 

He opens the door.

The Devil is drawn — domination . . . giving into the shadow

The crow-like creature examines his mother. Its beak hovers over her, looking ready to pierce through her sweating skin at any moment. Robert suddenly feels himself ready to tackle the thing out through the window. 

But then, he sees his mother’s nose twitch with the barest hint of life, and he fools himself into believing it is a result of some plague doctor magic.

The creature straightens to its full (albeit tiny) height. It turns its menacing beak toward Robert. For a few moments, it simply stares, and Robert wonders if it wants him to break in some way — down to his core and pull his stomach out. 

His grotesque fantasies, however, are halted when the doctor begins feeling for something beneath its robes. It pulls out a leather pouch lined with metal studs on the bottom. Robert blinks for a second making sure his eyes aren’t deceiving him. He would expect such an accessory from a teenage girl looking for something to keep her makeup in. It shocks him to see it being held by the strange doctor. Sure, the black fits the creature’s aesthetic, but the object in itself is so mundane.

Robert expresses his observation out of curiosity. “Where did you get that?”

The doctor pauses in the middle of taking out some simple-looking tweezers. “Where someone would normally get such a thing — a store.”

Robert refuses to let himself feel stupid. This pouch, for some reason, makes him suspicious of the doctor. 

He feels childish with the question he’s about to ask, but he pushes on as it feels necessary. 

“I wouldn’t have expected a plague doctor to have such a bag.”

“You didn’t expect a plague doctor in the first place. So how would you expect to expect anything from me at all?” It snaps at him.

The creature quirks its head to the side, like the bird it imitates. The action threatens Robert to silence. It steps toward him. He takes a step back.

It continues in a commanding murmur. “So what do you expect of me?”

The blank black eyes bore into him. He wants to walk back further — run, anywhere away from here. But he remains in his spot, locked by invisible chains. 

“I expect you to help my mother.”
“And that is what I will do.”

To be continued . . .

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!)