Major Arcana

Chapter 1 - The Prophetess

A lot of small towns, especially in the south, tend to have an antique shop somewhere in the middle of town. Whether it's a church donation shop, or there was someone eccentric enough to open it up, an antique shop will pop up smack-dab in the middle of town, filled with the junk your neighbors didn't want, just for you to peruse.
Vera appreciated her local shop. It was one of those storefronts that has passed hands multiple times, from being a clinic, to a grocery store, and now its final incarnation as a thrift store.
Today, she was looking at an old vase she recognized. It had come from one of her friends' houses, probably an old conversation piece their mother had decided didn't fit anymore. It was a dusty greenish-blue, with a thin neck and chipped mouth. She ran her fingers along the rough spot where the ceramic had been worn, before turning to her favorite part of the shop.
The shelves along the right wall held the items that got switched out the most. Usually Mr. Mallory, the owner, put the weirdest things he received there. He also ran a unique deal for anything on those shelves; if you found something you like, you could trade something similarly interesting instead of paying for it. Vera had gotten lots of things from these shelves: a non-working fondue pot she put a succulent in, a little diorama of felt mice eating a thanksgiving dinner, and even a bird skull she'd strung up to make a necklace.
     This week, the pickings were scarce. Mr. Mallory hadn't received anything interesting in a few days, so not much had been changed out. Vera's fingers felt around the shelves, turning and looking at things that caught her eye. Her eyes landed on a spot of color, and she moved oddities out of the way to see what it was.
     A small, rectangular, cloth pouch was propped up towards the back of the shelf. It had a zipper on one end, which she grabbed to flip the bag over. The design on the other end was faded, but featured a red background with braids- or were they snakes? - along the border. Inside the border, there appeared to be some sort of church or congregation sitting in pews, with a man in the middle with a halo of little yellow squares around his head.
     She unzipped the bag, and took a peek inside.
     It was a deck of cards. The back of the deck had a similar design as the front of the bag, but less worn. They were indeed snakes, and the congregation was in clearer detail. The person at the front, a dark-haired figure with pale skin, had a halo of cards around themself. When turned over, the cards themselves had richly colored illustrations, each numbered and with a title at the bottom. The last card in the deck was numbered 45, and then there was a little folding booklet.
She tipped the contents of the pouch out, setting the deck down before unfolding the booklet.
There was no title, or name for the deck. Simply a very long, folded piece of paper. Each square had an illustration corresponding to one of the cards, and a phrase. Strangely, each card's phrase was written as though addressing the reader. She flipped the crisp paper over, looking at each card and the corresponding phrase.
The Scythe - "You Will Be Cut Down."
The Hound - "You Will Be Enslaved."
The Scorpion - "You Will Be Poisoned."
It continued on like that, each card having an oddly dark cast behind it.
Blindly, she cut the deck, picking out one scarlet card from the others. She held on to it for a moment before setting it down on the shelf in front of her.
The illustration on the card was of an old woman, dressed in simple gray clothes with a crimson scarf holding her wild hair back. Her face had few features, and there were no eyes on the dust-colored plane of her face. Instead, she held an eyeball clenched in her teeth, which splattered blood down onto her outstretched hands. At the bottom, the title read: "The Prophetess."
She flipped the booklet open, finding the card she'd just pulled. It had a similar phrase to the other cards.
"You Will See."
She made a face at the card, but put it back in the pouch along with the booklet. She picked up the cloth bag, contemplating whether to buy it.
     "You can have it, if you'd like. Just bring me back something cool next time you come by."
Mr. Mallory's voice startled her. She hadn't heard him come out from behind his counter.
"Are you sure? I can pay for it."
His accent lolled through his mouth, lengthening his vowels. "I insist. I know plenty of people your age are into the tay-row."
She appreciated the gift, but she wasn't sure this was a tarot deck. She thanked Mr. Mallory, who shuffled back to his spot at the back of the shop, and pushed her way out of the double doors at the entrance.
She thumbed the zipper of the bag on the way to her car, deciding to herself she'd research the deck once she got home.