She was never here. Never present. Always lost in daydreams, a far-off look in her eye.
She had so much, but couldn’t see it. She was too attached to her illusions.
Without them, she was nothing…
Written for Weekend Writing Prompt # 92 – Wool-Gathering | Word count: 36
Note: The Seven of Cups from the Tarot is often associated with daydreams and having unrealistic expectations from life, and corresponds perfectly with the word, “wool-gathering”, I think 🙂
The tarot conceals as much as reveals.
Beware novice, and the one who thinks it a game…
They hold truths you don’t dare to name.
This was written for Day 7 of “A Month of Mini Writing Challenges“. See this page here for more details and a list of prompts.
The tarot reader looked at the cards facing her, aghast.
Doom
Destruction.
Death.
At least prophesying misery for a client earned her a fee.
She shuffled the cards diligently, her mind focused, determined.
When she was ready, she placed the deck on the table. Turning the top card over, she stared at it intently for what seemed like a lifetime.
‘What are you searching for?’ the man sitting opposite her asked.
‘Destiny.’
