The Botanists

One My Tarot Cards Are Mean

CLOVER
I don't know what I expected.
    
A lollypop? A pat on the back for even trying?
    
It was like, one second I was just innocently getting my mail from the rusted and dented mailbox, and the next I was on the ground.
    
The single envelope drifted through the air, landing gently on the median in the street. A single car rumbled past, crunching the yellow paper under its squishy tires.
    
Before I had time to recover from my harsh fall, I was met with two black, beady eyes so cold that I could feel my blood turn to ice. Those eyes were so familiar. I had seen them hundreds of times before. It didn't come as a surprise to see them up-close again, but it still chilled me to the core.
    
The creature drew closer, pushing its face into mine so its nose barely grazed my forehead. It drew in a breath, once, twice, before pulling away.
    
"A Witch, huh?" the thing said. "What are ya doin' all alone?"
    
I swallowed, and a funny taste settled on my tongue, burning my tastebuds. I couldn't speak. Why was I so scared?
    
"What's wrong?" it asked. "Harpy got your tongue?"
    
It was a goblin. I sized it up. Approximately three feet tall, clearly no taller than myself, maybe it would've come up to my chest if I were standing, the top of its head barely reaching past my collarbone. But while I was sprawled on the ground, the thing towered over me. The goblin looked like a normal human. Rounded cheeks, almond-shaped eyes with severe crow's feet, brown rustled hair tucked under a tan fedora.
    
But I saw past the facade. I saw the beast for what it really was. Though, the image briefly presented itself as a grey-skinned monster before transitioning back into a grown man in a jacket.
    
Just as suddenly as I saw the true goblin underneath, my fear diminished, and I was struck with a sudden rush of adrenaline as I took my hands and pressed them against the goblin's chest, pushing with all of my force.
    
The goblin tumbled into the street and fell backward. For just a moment, it looked stunned. It obviously hadn't expected me to fight back.
    
But the surprise was replaced with rage as the goblin got back to its feet. The glamour flickered, wearing off. My eyes started watering when I focused my eyes on the creature. Human. Goblin. Human. Goblin.
    
I jumped to my feet, seeing a moment of opportunity to run, and I took it. I dashed across the vacant crosswalk, ducked to grab the envelope.
    
The goblin snagged the back of my hoodie and yanked me back, nearly choking me in the process. Its claw grazed the back of my neck. It was enough to slice the skin open, and a drizzle of blood trickled down my back and onto my hoodie.
    
The monster threw me backwards, and I smashed against the mailbox. The goblin took this opportunity to lean in close to snarl, "You have no idea how long I've been waiting to do this." He reached its claw out and slashed my leg, and raising its other clawed hand to spear my abdomen, but I swept his feet and he stumbled to the ground. Right then, the glamour around it wore out and it fell in sparkles all around him. I decided not to put it out of its misery.
    
My magic bubbled up to my skin, melting through my pores to twirl around my hand like a rope. It dipped down and wrapped around the goblin's neck.
    
"Wendy," it choked, "she will hear about this."
    
It was my turn to lean in close, and the magic grew tighter around its neck. I could see the life leaving the goblin's eyes like how someone's skin drains of color when they're scared. "Wendy's dead," I said.
    
    
The bus screeched into the station just as I arrived. The old couple sitting together at one of the benches eyed me, and the woman clung to her husband and whispered something.
    
I ignored the two, guessing they were new in town, and climbed the three steps into the bus, but it felt like walking up three flights of stairs with one leg.
    
I slid into the first seat I saw and pressed myself against the window.
    
There was a cut in my leg that was exposed by the large tear in my jeans. If you were there, you would've seen the tissue inside, as well as the occasional gush of blood that slipped past the make-shift bandage I crafted with my energy and magic. The raw skin surrounding the wound was starting to sting, but I just gritted my teeth and bared it. I'd had worse injuries before.
    
This was a papercut compared to other inflictions I've succumbed in the past. Broken ribs. Broken nose. A punch to the face. (It's the reason I have a small gap between my front teeth.)
    
I settled my head against the frosted window. The January weather was cold and grey and reminded me of goblin skin.
    
I looked down at the letter clutched in my numb and torn hands, and decided to open it up.
    
I tore the top of the envelope open and pulled the card out. It was a folded piece of printer paper, and at the bottom it was signed by two indistinguishable signatures. My parents'. Of course.
    
My parents never wrote unless delivering bad news. The last time they'd sent a letter was two years ago, and it was just to let me know that my great uncle Demitrios died.
     So you can imagine my anxiety when I was unfolding this paper from my distant parents.
     It began: