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Deal Me Love

R.M. Bundridge

By Roger BundridgePublished 2 years ago 7 min read
1
Deal Me Love
Photo by mohammed idris djoudi on Unsplash

What if the people of the world had a set ending and beginning? What if that ending was love, the beginning, death. What if it was simply made a possibility? The people are dealt the cards at the beginning of their life, by the hands of fate or the creatures in the shadows, nobody can really tell the difference at this point; but everything in their life is calculated to the tiniest bit of chance. Of course, they are unaware of the reality in which they live. It is a behind the seams story. One of cause and one of effect.

Little miss Thalana is born in the back of the car on the side of the highway outside of a town nobody will know or understand. From the woods, the foliage parts a little to make room for the Entity and its Deck of Scars, in which the results are often death or addiction. Hands of bone reach into the cloak that dripped over the creature's body in waves of animal intestines and blood. It leaked and traveled like water, but it never left the edges of the material, sealed off to contain the magic placed on it. It pulled out the Deck and the atmosphere shifted with a wave of static and the irresistible urge to vomit. The stench of dead animals blew towards the car, the crack addict husband tried to cover his mouth before he could hurl the burger that had a small moldy spot in the center, which he had eaten an hour ago, onto the pavement. His fidgety crack addict wife screamed at him as she continued to push a baby out of her body and maintain a steady breathing pattern. The Entity trailed its hand over the back of the Card that resided on the top of the Deck. Power coursed through the material and into its body. Decks were their life source, all of the Entity’s that have been doing their jobs since the beginning of time were tied to a stack of paper with pretty sides to them. Born from thin air, they were given a purpose. Now, all of them were performing the way of the world.

Across the world, in a small apartment located in the middle of a city, a boy’s card was lacing itself into the walls and the floor of his and his families apartment. Whenever the snake would strike, that would be up to the wind, the delivery of the message that went to whoever was listening. The Tower Upright. It’ll be a broken bone, and then a few more down the line. The Fool Reversed. A silly little dare between a few dudes. The Death Upright. The final snap of the boy’s, who will be a man by thens, back. Like the breaking of spaghetti into a pot of boiling water. There would be a time when the cards would fall into place, rather rapidly for this one. It was set all around the world, like the stone paintings nobody could see anymore. A way of life behind the curtains. Everybody is oblivious to the possibility.

Another baby with a silver spoon in her mouth entered the world without a disturbance. She would cry in the future, most definitely, at the loss of her mother, but for now, the doctors put her in her designated location and did what they needed to. An Entity of a sky blue robe and clouds that shifted in and out of sight rested themselves on the ceiling, shuffling cards in between their slim metal fingers and blowing on them slightly; it was good luck for them. A sign of good fortune for a bad future. The Entity of Slight pulled the first card from the Deck, resting it in the air to face them. The Magician Reversed. From birth to death, a life of lies. The Devil Upright. Cocaine is an immediate option of grief for this child. Strength Reversed. No more path, not that there was much of one in the first place. The little girl was royally fucked, and there wasn’t a thing she could do about it. There were a handful of babies on the child’s floor that would be much better off than her. Some babies were promised love, inner peace, the strength to overcome, new beginnings, release of pain, a life with families and structure. Lucky them, the baby girl wouldn’t think anything of it when all was said and done. Instead, for now, she sucked her little thumb.

A few floors up, in a room of a different wing in the hospital, a boy with a perfect future cried and cried as the doctor held him, wrapping him and putting him in the arms of his mother. Tiny fingers, toes, a little nose. All he would have to do is grow and everything else would be done for him. What was interesting about this boy, however, was that even in death his life would continue. He was destined to become an Entity. They would not know which one until he acquired his robe, but in the current world, that was not a worry to them. The Entity of Passing stood at the end of the bed, doctors and nursing passing through and through without an idea. It’s robe was one of the more peculiar styles, old and plain. A simple black that shrouded the face of a monster in complete inky darkness. On its back, however, was a design made for only one. The Chosen Deciders of what was to come.

The baby cried as the father held her, a little bit of vomit still on his mouth. Slowly, the mother bled out in the car, the pungent smell of decay seeping into her clothes and staining the idea of moving her. It wasn’t long until her heart stopped, the pain too much in the end. It wasn’t long before the dad came to the conclusion that he wasn’t going to bother taking the car to the hospital. In love with his little girl, he caressed her head and looked at his surroundings. Nobody could see the Entities that controlled the movement of reality. The humans suspected they were all alone. As the intestine of a cow slid in and out of the material on the Entities cloak, its hand continued to search for the right time to pull the Cards for a child born in the back of a car. One who killed her mother. The name Thalana never presented itself. She cried into the night, maybe because she might have known after all. Babies were always peculiar about that kind of thing. Seeing what’s there when others couldn’t. Maybe she knew what the Entity did as well. She didn’t have a future. A role was not for her, but she wouldn’t die. Death always sprang true in readings. It was inevitable for the creatures of this nature, but she had nothing. It was just an uncomfortable darkness.

The little boy broke his leg.

In the hospital of a college campus, a woman faked the idea of birth. Blessed with a few gifts of her own, she caused her belly to swell, and fake life to reside inside of her body. She needed to know. She needed to see what the world was hiding. Faking her breathing and her pain, she began to sweat and scream. She tossed her back for effect and cleared everything that was floating inside of her mind. To be distracted was a weakness, and she couldn’t afford to lose anymore. As the lifeless body of the doll began to poke its head from her body, the room began to blur just slightest in the corner of the room. It was almost like what happened when a clump of snow was so wet and stuck together that it peeled off objects like a layer of skin. That is what the world was to the people behind the curtains. A body to hurt and hope for healing. Veins protrude from her neck and forehead, the torso of the baby following. Slowly, the layer of skin continues to fall, the bright pink hoodie of a never ending flame attacked her vision. More and more, the figure appeared. The doll was out of her and a creature was standing before her. Fingers of little flowers and stems wrapped around a deck of black cards. The woman felt for the gun that was placed between her back and the bed. She gripped it like it was second nature, pulling it through the air and yelling once more.

“Deal me the Hand of Love or this bullet is going to send you right back to the hell you came from!”

Against all odds, never before seen in the centuries of time, the deck of cards crash to the ground.

supernatural
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About the Creator

Roger Bundridge

Let's see what my mind can come up with, shall we? So many ideas, very little motivation.

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