My fiction needs to lighten up, it’s not good when your writing stresses you out. I need to lean less into horror and more into urban fantasy. What I’ve been doing lately is exploring mindfulness exercises for myself for a few days, then with a story in mind. I’m also going through the court cards and exploring elements and their metaphors, then combining and recombining them in freewriting exercises. The tarot interpretation and meditations within are described after the story. This is a revised version of The Student, with some coping skills thrown in to walk the young girl through a difficult mission.
The Student
The love songs of the night gave way to the chatter of birds as the girl moved across the meadow to the old cabin, mosses and ferns sprouting from layers of pine needles on the roof. The morning mist reflected the overcast sky, the field a glowing silver, cut through with a winding green brush stroke trailing behind her as she knocked dew from the overgrown path.
Wind rippled across the blooming meadow, the rising sun stirring a breeze that pushed the mist further into the shadowy pines behind her. Lush young leaves fluttered in the gentle sunlight, shaking off their dew. Dandelion seeds rose in the breeze and drifted, golden and glowing. Maple seeds whirled lazily as they drifted downward, flashing in the sun like a dancer’s twirling skirt. She wouldn’t be surprised to see fairies tending to such a garden. The narrow trail was barely visible, but she knew it by heart. Her bare feet sank gently into the earth under the rising clover.
The sound of bees in the air was usually relaxing, but now it sounded ominous, irritating. She checked her body for tension, and found her fists were clenched, her heart racing. She remembered her mother’s advice for soothing herself, so she could think clearly.
She breathed in, observing the effects of the breath on her body, studying it as closely as if she had never taken a breath before. She felt her spine grow straighter, let the tension of her shoulders fall away as the air cleared her head. She took another breath, this time noticing the tickle in her nostrils, the chill of morning air stinging pleasantly, a little like chewing mint.
She explored her senses, looked around her for treasures. She admired the shine of an emerald sweat bee, and took a moment to be grateful her studies had taught her there were more than honeybees to find in the blooming meadows.
She breathed in the scent of pine on the air, mingling with flowers, and the scent of damp earth. She put her right hand over hear heart and felt grateful for this moment of beauty, letting the warmth and pressure of her hand bring her peace.
Her heart dropped. Her hand followed. She was too happy for the day ahead. Shame made her cheeks tingle. She stood straight, focused on her breath, and counted wildflower species as she walked steadily to the cabin, feeling her weight shift with each step, willing her shoulders to relax in the sun. She reached the stepping stones.
Her father had stopped howling. She took the mask out of her pocket and put it on. The door was silent as it opened. Cobwebs grew dusty in the windows. Something rustled in the corner, in an old pile of burlap sacks where a sunbeam warmed the pile. It wasn’t him. He sat in the shadows, away from the narrow shaft of light that struck the floor.
The smell had quieted down, grown more earthen. She had expected sour. Like when fruit turns to wine. This smelled more like mushrooms. Was this a fungus, not a virus? She felt her core begin to tremble, and clasped her hands behind her back, calming herself by walking slowly. She pushed her shoulders down.
He sat quietly, observing her in return. He wasn’t breathing. His eyes had fogged over, a cloudy white, but his head still tracked her smoothly. Was he using sound? Could he see with those eyes? Had he developed a new sense, like a cave dwelling species?
His skin looked damp, but his cheeks were sinking in, starting to look like a mummy under its wrappings, but the flesh seemed flexible. Just darkening in color a little. Like a bog body she saw in an encyclopedia. His flesh was tanning. She breathed deeply. Her breath was stifled by the mask. She pictured the bee, remembering the peace of the moment.
She looked at the earth to steady herself before she began speaking. “I promised Mother I wouldn’t kill you. Do you remember Mother?” She watched him from the corner of her eye, pretended to be disinterested, watching for the slightest sign of movement, her eyes on the path to the door.
The chain rustled on the floor, and she sharply turned toward him. He appeared to relax, rather than coiled to spring. She did not trust it. There was no telling what he had been up to while she was gone. She breathed, slowly through the mask. She shifted her weight to help her relax, moving slowly and casually, as one would a wild animal, or a stray cat. She made sure her body was turned to the door, noting that the kitchen chair was nearby, out of the range of the chain if she needed a weapon, if the chain was still fastened tightly.
He was still enough to be made of stone. He sat at the edge of the shaft of light, close to shelving. He must have moved a barrel to get there. Yes, the dust showed were something had been moved. Some boxes were on top of the barrel. He had made room for himself to sit, in the shadows.
Did the disease make his eyes sensitive to the light? Maybe his skin? That would explain why the monster had stuck to the shadows of the caves, before the attack.
She opened the curtains, letting the rising sun fall over the thing that used to be her father. The chains rattled as he shifted his weight, but there was no other reaction. Interesting. That implies physical distress, but not at a critical level.
“We never did spend a lot of time together, Father. I think I will remedy that. I propose a partnership. You shall teach me exactly how to defeat the plague. I pray I don’t cause you too much discomfort in the process.”
This story explores how the elements of air and earth combine in the Page of Swords. The pages are children, representations of the earth element and the planting of seeds, nurturing them to grow. Earth represents life in all forms, including the life that feeds on death. So, I threw in both the green and fertile world and a transition to the darker aspects of earth. Caverns contain their own diversity, their own life, as well as things that thrive on decay, turning death into nutrients for the surrounding life to share.
Earth is also present in the grounding of anxiety, letting our nervous energy settle. The exercise of sorting things by categories (by species, color, taste, etc.) is designed to distract our frantic minds, rather than get lost in a storm of thoughts and emotion.
The children study the element they represent. Here, she is a student from the family of swords, a family that embodies the element of air, and intellect. The court of swords, known for their sharp wit and strategy, would certainly raise a child to master her emotions, so she can do what needs to be done. They love to be rational, even if it means they become a bit cold. This is revised to have more air through breath and mental clarity, using a meditation that approaches the world as if for the first time, cultivating gratitude and hope.
I wrote this story a while ago, then recently revised it and posted it here. Then I explored the elements with a different purpose and perspective. I like how it deepens her as a person. More on the court cards here.
Tippitiwichet 