the world & words of a new york city writer

gretchen is a writer in new york city

Tag: tarot (page 1 of 5)

a tale of tarot

The serialized story posted in its entirety…

a tale of tarot (serialized piece constructed around the major arcana)

I want you to know everything. From the beginning. I want to tell you how I dangled my toes over a cliff; once off a cracked building ledge; twice on the edge of a half tipped chair. Continue reading

judgement. 21 of 22.

judgement

Free will is the most powerful tool we are born with. Everyone has it. Most people are just too afraid to use it.

Most people don’t know what to do with it.

You watched me across the room for two hours before approaching. There was a sadness in your eyes about having to make this choice again. The same choice we face every time.

This time I wanted it to be different. So did you.

By the time you walked away from your group of companions gin controlled their attention much more than your presence. As you walked toward me, you thought about all the times I’ve waited for you.

You trust me. Even though we’ve killed one another time and time again. Last time you pulled the trigger for both of us. The time before I provided the poison. Continue reading

the sun. 20 of 22.

the sun

You and I have always shared secrets. The kind that set you free.

We exchange lifetimes of knowing. We alternate. You’re born awake. Me. Then you. I have chosen to make this time an exception.

I am telling you everything.

I like to think that you’ve considered this in the past, that you’ve wanted to save me.

I wouldn’t be telling you all of this if I didn’t know without a shadow of a doubt that it is the only way we will ever be free.

I know you well enough to understand the deception you will mistakenly suffer. Our child is waiting. Until we extend beyond this, she will never have a chance.

You must believe me. Continue reading

the moon. 19 of 22.

the moon

Regardless of how I try to spend my time alone, your imprint controls my thought processes. Our history carves my actions.

The thing is, we both know better. We know we’re only harming ourselves – holding onto death. Refusing to make room for life.

We want him to suffer eternally, regardless of what it does to us.

You are perfect to me. You are my only understanding of perfection. When we had a child together it was perfect. Our suicide pact… perfect.

Why should either one of us live with the burden of setting him free? Once upon a time we thought happiness existed, I’ve lost track of how may lifetimes ago that was.

New York City has brought us both refreshed vitality. Each time we are born and return to this city to find the other, something new and exciting awaits. Someone like Anthony, or a red-headed stranger. This place contains more opportunities of avoidance than you or I ever thought possible. Continue reading

the star. 18 of 22.

the star

I dove back into my work. Life was more peaceful when he stopped talking to me.

I thought of you every day. I told myself it wasn’t constraining me while I burnt patchouli oil and practiced yoga. I told myself it was liberating.

For a brief period it felt that way.

A client came to me shortly after losing her teenage son to leukemia. I held her hands with closed eyes and talked about how much it meant to her little boy that she still allowed him to play baseball even as he continued getting sick. I told him he said he was sorry he couldn’t get better and she started to cry.

“That’s exactly what he used to say to me, ‘I‘m sorry I can’t get better mommy.’ Do you have any children? You seem like you would be such an amazing parent, one any child would be lucky to have.” Continue reading

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