This is the second lot of these, which are mini stories based on the 21 cards of the Tarot major arcana. They’re all based around the myths and stories associated with the darker sides of Faerie, and the more sinister aspects of old folk tales. These three in particular deal with the ideas of artifacts left behind and the ‘gifts’ that the fey folk bestow on mortals.
He’d found the little figurine whilst walking in the hills. A woman made of gold, with eyes of turquoise that seemed alive in the light, and pierced into whoever looked into them.
Where she had come from he couldn’t say. She felt ancient, though she was pristine and unscarred.
Though he probably should have taken her to a museum, or at least an expert, he cannot bear to part from her.
His skin has become to take the shade of rusted copper. He no longer goes outside. He simply sits, clasping the statuette, and rocks.
He is kept in a glass box, in a vault, deep within a secret mountain palace, hidden away from civilisation.
Like his wife, he is golden, unburnished by time, though he is more… Subtle. His eyes are lit with darkest obsidian.
A man comes to talk to him once a day, at least. You wouldn’t recognise him, though he knows who you are. He likes the shadows, though it’s his business to know people, and he’s there at every important event. He is there behind the thrones of the great, powerful and wealthy, though even those on the plush thrones wouldn’t know his face.
Those eyes though, they know those from dreams. They wake at night knowing they are being watched by jet black jewels.
“The end is Nigh!” He Billboard man cries
“Repent, Repent, Lest ye all die!”
Soot and filth cover his matted beard and hair. He is every bit the crazed doomsayer, yet you walk past, slightly disgusted.
The problem is, he’s been right every time before. He used to be a stockbroker, before they chased him from their lairs.
He’s doing what he thinks is best. Unfortunately, like Cassandra, nobody listens.