by Неизвестный
TAROT TRUTH
by Hayley J. Sheldon
The guilt was overriding the pleasure today. Each day was different however, but today for sure, the familiar nagging feelings of shame and guilt were making Sarah feel as though she had cheated in her final end of year college exam and had gained an A pass. Her body and her mind, her conscience was at war. Only yesterday, her body, covered in sweet perspiration as she lay, legs straddled, beneath Justin making love with him, passionately, furiously, angrily and hungrily had not given a damn about the consequences of what she was doing. Of what they were both doing. The physical, electrifying, shuddering intense force of her release and of his was all that mattered. Not just the sex, the affection and the amazing words he spoke right in to her soul, while his eyes never left hers for a moment.
Justin had joined the telephone call centre as area manager five months ago. Sarah had been delegated to act as his chaperone for his first visit.
“So, Sarah, how does a mother of two toddlers still manage to come to work every day and manage a team of eight call centre operators, looking like she should be a glamorous actress on a movie set”? Cheesy cheese, thought Sarah. However, coming from a guy that genuinely DID look as though he should be working on a film set, with gelled back black hair, olive skin, eyes that resembled Antonio Banderas and the most upright posture Sarah had even seen, plus the fact that he was her superior.
Sarah immediately smiled and replied, “I am a woman, that is how I manage.” In that all so brief exchange of words and glances, the chemistry, the magic and the connection had been made.
It was not until two weeks later, on the third visit from Justin, at the call centre in North West London where Sarah worked, that anything other than “innocent” flirting had occurred. It was just after seven pm and she was still stuck in the dark, concrete car park underneath the call centre, unable to get her car to start. The fact the council wouldn’t repair the broken lighting in the damn car park was a constant source of frustration and also fear. There were dozens of hiding places everywhere you looked. Now sitting in her car with the doors locked, trying to will the engine to turn over, the familiar scenarios of madmen with dark, toothless mouths and long, flowing caveman hair, jumping on to the bonnet, brandishing rusty saws, replayed themselves yet again through her mind, scaring her witless. The ancient Nissan had been bought for her by her husband, and he must have known what a pile of crap it was when he purchased it. She decided it was time he knew what an unreliable death trap he had given her.
She reached in her battered leather handbag for her phone, dialled his number and started to vent as soon as he answered. “This stupid, bloody hunk of scrap” shouted Sarah. “You good for nothing piece of...” the phone was clicked off at the other end by her soon to be ex-husband, who cared less than nothing that the mother of his children was stranded in an underground car park outside work on a dark Colindale industrial estate, not the nicest of areas at any time. She had no means of getting home now except to call a cab and leave her car here. This however, would entail leaving the relative “safety” of the car and walking, once more, through the concrete jungle of the “no man’s land” car park, where the insane (and hopefully) “imaginary” axe man lurked, waiting for fresh flesh. She banged her palms on the steering wheel in anger and an exasperated sob hiccupped out of her mouth.
All this was being watched in amusement by the handsome area manager that was Justin. He approached her car on the passenger side, so as not to scare her. “So, superwoman, what’s the problem with the motor? Apart from the fact that they stopped making this model about ten years ago”, laughed Justin in his sexy, confident manner.
That fated encounter had led, after actually very little resistance from Sarah, to a meal at a hotel in Hendon where they had both predictably exchanged stories of how unhappy they were at home and how lonely they were. “It is the twins that have stopped me from leaving before and the fact that I just cannot afford to leave. Stuart, my husband, is a great dad and equally a lousy husband in so many ways that you cannot imagine. I have tried so hard to make my marriage work for my children. For me also, but the man that I married does not see me anymore. I have become a house servant and mother and it is slowly killing me.”
“I am so sorry. You deserve so much more. I do understand though”, Justin said as he placed Sarah’s hands in both of his. “My wife is my wife in name only, really. She is busy with work clients all the time and has let herself go physically. She and I have become strangers over the past two or three years. The only reason I stay is that I pity her and I know how lost she would be without me. I do not love her, like you do not love your husband. Well, not in the way a husband and wife are meant to love one another and feel about one another,” reassured Justin. Her innocent girl next door natural beauty excited him and turned him on as he continued to spin his web of lies. He was getting so good at it nowadays.
Now three months after the “first time,” it was for sure, a fully blown love affair. Sarah had always dreamed of a love and indeed a lover like Justin. He ticked all her teenage boxes that still needed ticking apparently, in her late thirties. All boxes were ticked. Except that he could not leave his wife, since she had been diagnosed with cancer last month. it was a shock for all concerned and so out of the blue as she was usually in tip top health, according to Justin. He had said that he was going to tell his wife about Sarah and him and ask for a divorce. Two days before he had said he was going to tell her and this bombshell is delivered. Therein was the root of the guilt. She was having an affair with someone who was married to a sick wife who was dying. She felt angry with him for not leaving anyway. She felt so upset with herself for so many reasons. She was a good person. She had not planned this, nor chosen this. She was a kind, loving, lonely woman who had for once found true love. She had never at any time wished anything bad for his wife and she wondered how such a wonderful man could be with a woman who ignored him physically and who had no time for him, except for him to hand out money for the bills.
Justin had sounded distraught the other evening when he had called to cancel their weekend away to Amsterdam. He had telephoned her to say that his wife was having a really bad episode and that he just could not leave her. Even though he had told her that her sister had become her main caregiver and that he had little to do with her. That is what had finally persuaded Sarah to visit Susan’s woman.
Susan, her best friend of forever, had wanted Sarah to visit “her lady,” as she called her.
“Oh, Sarah, please and see her. She is amazing, so accurate and unbelievably lovely. You will know what to do about everything once you have seen her. She gives spiritual healing in the session, also. I will treat you, darling. Please say that you will go and see her.” Susan wanted her old friend back. For the past couple of months she had been secretive and withdrawn. Sarah did not discuss her home life much or talk about what was going on inside her head. Susan suspected however, that her best friend had been seeing someone. Maybe even having an affair. Even though they had been through school together and had known one another almost forever, there had always been boundaries in their friendship that were neither crossed nor questioned.
Sarah similarly could not open up and tell her supposed best friend in the world about Justin, because Justin had sworn Sarah to absolute secrecy. She had agreed reluctantly after Justin had literally “lost it” with her one evening after going through her mobile phone and seeing that she had sent a text to a friend telling her she had met a wonderful new man. He threw the phone against the wall, causing the back to come off and the sim card to pop out. He then flushed the sim card down the lavatory. With cheeks as purple as an aubergine and a vein in his neck pulsating as though it wanted to break free of the skin, he made it clear that no one could know of their relationship. No one. Shocked at the vehemence with which Justin insisted on such secrecy, she knew in his heart that it was to protect his sick wife from ever finding out about them and so she agreed. No mor
e texts or discussing Justin with anyone. And after their first dinner in the Hendon Hotel, three months ago, they always went out of town for their “trysts.”
So today Sarah was going to see the tarot card clairvoyant at her house in Ealing. Sarah did not really believe in such things, being quite logical minded but had been convinced by Susan raving about how good she was. Since the cancelled weekend away to Amsterdam, something with Justin and her seemed wrong and out of place. She was sick of the guilt and all that went with it and did want to know if this tarot card woman could predict everlasting happiness for her and Justin and to see if by having her cards read that she could finally, put all this awful guilt away.
Monica was like no other woman Sarah had ever seen before. She was certainly larger than life in every way, including her size. She stood in bare feet at least five feet nine inches. She was dressed in a fuchsia and purple caftan and had a matching headscarf draped over her head and tied at the side. Her most striking feature for sure, however, was her hair. Bright auburn, thick, loose ringlets hung to almost her waist- not extensions or a wig. She was in full make up expertly applied, showing off to the full her beautiful green cat-like eyes.
“I have just boiled the kettle, darling. What can I get you? I have a huge selection of herbal teas as well as regular tea or coffee.” Even Monica’s voice was somehow alluring and melodic. Her home was beautiful. It was very warm and homely, scattered here and there with crystals and candles and sticks of jasmine incense.
With the pleasantries over with, Sarah sat on the plump sofa opposite Monica, who sat cross legged on the floor the other side of the glass coffee table. “Have you had a reading before, Sarah, my love?”
Sarah replied that she had never had any kind of reading before and was a bit nervous and was not even sure that she should be there.
“Ok. Please just relax, sweetheart. You do not have to do anything. I will be doing all the work. All you have to do now is shuffle these rather large tarot cards and be open to me. Just relax now and give them a good shuffle and then hand them back to me. The cards are cards of truth and never, in all the years I have been reading them, have they let me down. So just relax.”
As Sarah started to shuffle the oversized cards, a gust of icy cold air whooshed past her face, causing goose bumps to rise all over her arms and hands. The windows in the room that were all tightly closed could not be the cause of the influx of air, so maybe another door or something was ajar somewhere else. No one else had noticed the gust, so she thought she should keep quiet, although her hands and fingers were now becoming incredibly colder and stiff.
The ten cards chosen from the pack by Sarah for her reading lay on the glass table in a cross formation. Monica explained that the reading would encompass all aspects of Sarah’s life, work, relationship, health, finances, etc., but if there was an area that Sarah wanted to concentrate on, then Monica would look more in depth in to that.
Sarah asked Monica to try to concentrate the reading on her personal life and relationship.
Monica took a very deep breath and frowned, wrinkling her forehead. “Sarah, I have a total block at the moment on your relationship sector of the reading. I am just being shown a tall shadow of a man and he stands with his back to me. I cannot see what he looks like. All I can go by is what I am feeling for now and I feel a cold shiver all the way down my spine. I will try and come back to this later and see if we can gain more insight for you.”
Sarah pinched the skin on the palms of her hands to stop tears of worry from forming. “Ok”, continued Monica. “Your work life will improve with a promotion. I see you in an office environment leading a team or teams of young people. You have become a little disinterested in your job lately and not really giving the attention that you should. Something that has been preying heavy on your mind is holding you back with your work. Once this has been worked out and sort of resolved, you will throw yourself back in to the job and there will be a big promotion for you that will involve some travel and a lot more money.”
The reading continued with insights and predictions about Sarah’s sister, her health and one or two friendships that would encounter a rocky phase. Finally Monica saw in the cards the message of loss. “Sarah, I am back to the man in your life. I do see that you are in a relationship. I am being shown a cup overflowing with tears though. This man is someone that does care for you on a physical level. He cares about himself more, however. He is shown here in the cards as the Magician. Let’s see if we can find out a name or see his face.”
Monica’s face yet again formed frown lines and she became frustrated. “I do apologise, I am unable to get this man to turn so that I can see his face. Although I have said what I have to you about his character, I do like this man. In fact, as I tune in to him I have very strong feelings and connections happening. I feel a love, which must be a type of compassion, I guess. Sarah, are you able to shed any light for me to help me to tune in a little more?”
Sarah said, “Oh yes, I think I can, I do have a photo of him in my wallet. Would that help?”
“Well,” replied Monica, “place his photo down on the table next to the magician card and we will see.”
The photo was removed by Sarah and as requested, shakily placed on the table next to the magician card. It was then that Sarah noticed, for the first time since she had entered the room that there were photos in little silver frames all over the two side tables, either side of the sofa that she was sitting on. In this shadowy light of Monica’s lounge, one or two of the men in the photos seemed to remind her of...
“No!” shrieked Monica, just at the same time as Sarah realised who the photos reminded her of.
There on the table lay Justin’s photo next to the magician.
Sarah’s lover and Monica’s husband.
The Artist
by Dave Paul
The tower pointed at the clear blue sky as though accusing that azure vastness of some hideous crime. Cecilia had seen the impressive building while crossing the small stone bridge that spanned the babbling stream bisecting the heart of Carennac and had immediately decided to investigate. It was the first day of her vacation and she could think of nothing better to do than amble through the tight, cobbled streets exploring the picturesque village.
A stony track meandered up the hill through dense woodland toward the old, ivy clad tower. The gradient was quite steep, forcing Cecilia to take frequent rests. Her labour, however, was well rewarded when she reached the apex; the view was breathtaking. Lush rolling hills tumbled towards the Dordogne valley, the greenery broken occasionally by outcrops of grey stone buildings, many of which had been standing for well over four hundred years according to the guide book Cecilia had read before leaving home. The warmth of the French summer sun kissed Cecilia’s cheeks and was gently brushed away by a light breeze as she enjoyed the glorious panorama. She felt wrapped in a welcome cocoon of tranquillity which granted her a sensation of having been transported back in time. At that moment and in that place, Cecilia felt eons away from the bustle of the city life she had left behind in London. Aunt Elise had been right, Cecilia was very glad she had come to visit.
The tall structure stood alone on the east side of Carennac and looked at least as old as the outcropping buildings Cecilia had witnessed from the top of the mount. The path that cut through the bushes and long, coarse grass towards the base was, if anything, steeper than the road she had climbed earlier. This time, however, she was making her way downhill, careful not to slip on the smooth surface of the stones embedded in the hard ground. A twisted ankle so early into her holiday would be devastating. Apart from the whisper of the breeze that ruffled the grass and stirred the branches of nearby trees, the afternoon seemed exceptionally quiet; no sounds of distant traffic, no cheerful cries from playful children, no throbbing bass from monotonous music. Things were so different here compared to back home, Cecilia though once more.
Tentatively picking a path through the grass and gorse, she travelled t
he circumference of the building, studying its construction. Huge pieces of local stone, grey and extremely hard, must have been laboriously quarried in the valley below and manually transported to the site. The tower was some forty meters high and the effort of the masons in raising the massive blocks of rock to such heights, without the use of modern-day machinery, was difficult for Cecilia to comprehend. Tipping back her head, she followed the undulating rise of the building to the unusual, triangle shaped, tiled roof. Everything about the structure was characteristic of being hand built many years ago; the uneven handmade roof tiles, the haphazard and irregular shapes of the stones, the lack of any true perpendiculars in its construction. All these characteristics were also exactly what made the tower so appealing to Cecilia.
Standing in the deeply shadowed doorway, Cecilia felt her heart rate increase and struggled to draw her breath. Not a natural law breaker, she attributed these symptoms to the thought of entering the tower; to trespassing on someone’s property. There had been no warning signs however, and Cecilia had seen no other person within the vicinity since being here. In an effort to placate her anxiety she decided just to have a quick look inside and then leave, so she cautiously placed a hand on the heavy oak door and pushed against the resistance of rusted hinges. Metallic protests reverberated through the quiet countryside as Cecilia applied more effort to force the weighted door ajar. Eventually there was enough of a gap for her to push through and enter the interior of the tower.
Cobwebs, dust and a litter of twigs and dead leaves were the only welcoming committee Cecilia received. Daylight struggled to impress within the confines of the tower, even though Cecilia had seen high south-facing windows on each of the four floors of the building. Stepping further into the gloom, she noticed a stone stairway on the far side of the circular room. The steps, one end of which were married into the stonework of the outer wall, wound their way around and up, disappearing through a small square cut through the wooden flooring of the level above. Inside the building the quietness was amplified, even the whisper of the breeze had been silenced.