(a story in the form of an ebay listing for tarot cards)

Tarot cards with a meaning: the legacy of Eleana “the good witch”
an experiment by pcat

She was a bright woman, who lived in a small cabin alone,the town called it “the wind cabin” She had a garden with herbs and roses and other plants. She was a “witch” as you may call it, but she was raised with the knowledge that her works were a normal thing, making bags with positive intentions. She would fill them with crystals, wishes, rose buds,oils.
She was 42 when she died of a heart attack, while working in her garden, freshly planting daisies..

The people who lived in town nicknamed her eleana the good witch, but after she died people brought up lies, conspiracies, accusations. I remained true to her.

After she died, I got to check out her home. It defiantly, to her, was a home and a beloved space. Colored candles, well used, sit on window sils and tables. she made her own, too.
A book of shadows owned by all the great women before her sat next to her bed on a stump.
A string of rosebuds hung on her head board, and under her bed were books, stacked.

I saw an unusual shape in her pillow, further investigating I found old, worn, dirted and full of candle dripped cards.
This is her tarot deck. The aroma of her cooking still lingers, her perfume, her favourite oils, dirt from her garden, melted candle wax, and water drips, supposedly from the unexpected rain
These cards were a companion to her, she used to give me readings all the time.
She used to sit next to the garden across from me and lay the cards down on a stepping stone, that had a moon carved into it. There are folds in the cards caused by the cards getting caught in the stone while shuffling. Then, she would softly tell me the meanings and the answers to the questions I asked, then gave the deck a kiss and shuffled them,
Then layed them to rest in a wooden box that now sits at my bedside, filled with our love letters to each other.

She had no extended family.

I am the silent admirer. I loved her, back in the day when we were younger, I would watch her work on her garden, chatting about the day and the books we read, the books we wanted to read, the adventures we wanted to go on.
It seems only delusional now.
She gave me a small sachet, and told me it would keep me safe from the nightmares.
It continues to sit in my pillow, as her spirit watches over me.

The day she died, I found her in the garden, I shook her gently awake thinking that she had fallen asleep, realizing that her eyes were still open. I pressed my ear to her heart, nothing.

I walked 5 miles to the nearest village and called the ambulance,
She had left me in the world alone, without her.
but not without her collection of books, candles, art, knitted blankets. To keep me warm in her embrace.
Since word spread around that she was a witch, no body wanted the wind cabin, nor her oddities. They mocked her, destroyed her grave stone, I made a small bird bath shrine next to a tree where I found her, and put a candle in it that I light every night. I continue to occupy her home and care for her rich garden, will I still care and sleep in my own home.

So, why would I sell this deck? Well, I need a bit of pocket change. I got fired from my job, because I was the “witch’s servant” I was able to snatch a job as a mailman, delivering mail, for a small amount of cash.
I did keep everything that meant ten times more to her, like her blanket. She slept with it every night, kept her warm in the cold. One day in the winter I brought her the mail, an she wrapped me in the blanket and told me it would keep me warm when even my heart was cold.

My love for Eleana is eternal. Her blond hair, warm smile. The smell of herbs on her skin.
Her gentle hands, and kind soul. I miss that.

So know I’m doing what I can to live out my days. It worries me what will happen to all her stuff when I’m gone. So I decided passing on her cards to another smart person would do the trick to keep her memory alive, to keep us alive.
Her cards hold memories of walks we’ve taken into the forest to a mountain, were we would watch the full moon, and she would read her cards to me.
Memories of her teaching me how to bake her grandmother’s recipes.
Memories of us dancing to the rain while waiting for pies to bake.
Memories of winter cuddles and stories by the fire, she would take me in and we would keep each other warm. Sometimes sneaking in a shuffle or question to the cards.
Memories of going to the market an picking out fabrics for gris gris bags and a blanket of stars she once made me. The one that I continue to sleep with.
Her cards rested with her through it all.
And, it shows.
And now you can continue this adventure.
Best of luck to you all,

Just know that Eleana lived a long a happy life,
May she rest in peace.

John