The Bleak Fortunes Tarot
By the Orders of Magnitude
A neglected church, the pervasive smell of damp overlaid with Brasso and Mr Sheen. On the salt blistering walls a purgatory of miserable saints cast their judgement on your failings. Oak pew-end carvings of many headed beasts eat pilgrims from pitchforks. Home knitted kneelers are padded with regret and building rubble. At the door a pack of curling postcards sit on top the donations box it’s padlock forced and the meagre contents enough to buy cigarettes and Tizer.
You find yourself donating to the church charity which supports a distant community far more cohesive and caring than this. on your way out you are caught by a family wearing T-shirts saying Jesus died for your Sins.
a theft a loss of empathy the epiphany is not coming a miracle of chance encounters be wary of the gloved pedestrian