Blog Hop: The 4 of Pentacles
I've always wanted to write a short story based on a single tarot card, so when Bree of Nym's Divination put a call out on Instagram for tarot people online to join a blog hop for International Tarot Day, I immediately put my name in.
*For a complete listing of everyone involved in today's super special Blog Hop, visit Falcon Cloak Tarot. (Grab a cup of coffee and give yourself some quality time taking a tour of all 78 cards with all these fab readers all over the world!).
The Four of Pentacles: A Short Story
It has been too long since there was plenty.
All around him were signposts of abundance—the old house, now boarded up; the trees and their leaves, green in his memory, but gray and turning cold and crisp before his eyes. He lives in a haze, with a lack of understanding of the world he now inhabited. The skies were gray but the sun beat down on him hard. He lived in a perpetual fever—heat building in his body, while chills simultaneously ran through his spine and his limbs, causing him to shake and tremble.
He was worried. Constantly. And it seemed as though he was the only one. His family paid no mind to the situation—to the lack and the loss.
"We can't subsist on crumbs," he told them.
"We take what we can and if we're careful, we notice how much more we already have," his mother replied.
His father scavenged and hunted everyday, venturing out into the town that was once theirs to ask for help, pillaging people's generosity for whatever he could get.
What the squandered before, they held carefully now. With nimble fingers, they collected and counted and kept what they could, building upon the ashes of their former lives.
Everything was kept beneath the flaps and covers of his father's tent. On days when his mother was too busy stacking up coins to be bothered, and when his father was out looking for more, he would stay outside their new home and sit outside, trapped between the burning cold and chilling heat that confused his mind, his spirit and his body.
He held out his fingers and saw nothing in between. Maneuvering his fingers, willing to create something out of thin air, he closed his eyes, imagining a fort growing up and around him, transforming this great void into a castle even greater than their old abode.
He felt his heart beat strongly inside him as the image of the home began to envelop him so viscerally he could almost hear the crackle of the fire, he could practically feel the soft feathered cushion beneath his seat. As he opened his eyes, everything disappeared before him—sensations beginning to fade, comfort dissipating. His heart, however, felt full as he harnessed the seed of hope inside him, knowing that with every dream he ignited in his mind, he could build and build upon whatever little he had until it grew into something greater than himself.