5 Tarot Cards

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Today I’m going to be posting 5 tarot cards I’ve drawn and their artistic influences. I hope you enjoy!

The Two of Swords
Renee Magritte’s Not to Be Reproduced
The 5 of Staves
Witches Flight Goya.jpg
Francisco Goya’s Witches Flight
The Lovers
Renee Magritte’s The Lovers II
The Star
Burney Relief
5 of Cups
Pause at 1:30 for the inspiration

So these are some of the influences in the deck. There are many more coming in future cards. The Pieta as well as Gustav Klimt are coming in future cards.

I’ve been kind of busy lately with a lot of going away parties and art shows, so please bear with me. I will be updating this blog with more stories in a bit. I will have a lot of free time throughout August, so hopefully I can get a nice buffer and also work on some bigger projects as well.

The Milk of Human Kindness

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Alex began to unscrew the lid, gently screeching, of a small glass vial. He poured the contents in a circle around the table, just past the runes he found in his extensive research into the arcane and unknowable, which were surprisingly easy to understand.

He began chanting, as one does in situations like this. His particular chant was in Latin, specifically a dialect that has long since been dead, but was commonly found off in a northern set of mountains. As he butchered the consonants, which was not as important as you’d think, he started to light the candles around the table. The book suggested pure white candles, but Alex was hoping that the backlog of Yankee candles his mom had gotten him over the years would suffice.

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Making Memories

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“I hope the wait wasn’t too long, Mr. Boeing.” Said the doctor as he walked into the cold beige and white room.

“Oh, I’ve dealt with longer waits than this, but thank you for your consideration.” Mr. Boeing shifted his weight so he could better focus on the doctor.

“Do you have any questions before we begin?”

“None, sir. Your nurse explained the whole procedure to me clear as day. What a kind gentleman. My grandson is single. I should give him his number. They’d get along I think.” Mr. Boeing began to take out his phone as well as a pen.

“Maybe you can ask Mr. Clark after the procedure, right now we should be getting you ready to be put under. Have you had anything to eat in the past 8 hours?”

(more…)

About

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I write short stories, around 1,000 words each. The stories range from science fiction to fantasy, horror to comedy, light to dark.

I post them twice a month. One is posted on the 15th of every month, and the other is posted right around when the month switches over.

I often write about disability, feeling confused, and holding onto small hopes.

Please enjoy my stories.

Fickle

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Fickle saw the light filtering in from the still-closed curtains of the laundry room. “Rise and Shine,” Fickle whistled to themself. The morning was Fickle’s favorite part of the day. Everything processed quicker. There were fewer dangling bits of memory to slow them down as they thought about their tasks and place in the world, but they could not bask in this feeling. They had to get to work.

Their initial protocol, as usual, was to download their tasks for the day. Of course the list was pretty standard. There were no special events coming up, so the regular cycle of tasks was given to Fickle based on the day of the week. Today, Fickle had to clean underneath the couches as well as behind the bookshelves. This was Fickle’s specialty, the reason they were designed. Their arms could unfold and extend into harder to reach locations, allowing them to clean up all the difficult spots that used to take Momma moving the furniture to clean. Much less hassle if Fickle could do it by themself.

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The Tree That Wasn’t

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“Mom! Eemah! Where’s the tree out back?” Elijah was calling from the back door of the thin two story row house. “I wanted to show Carol.”

Mom, Lexi, called back to Elijah from her study on the second floor, “Oh, uh, we cut it down a few years back. Sorry love.”

“Why’d you go and do that? I loved that tree” Elijah took a step into the house and towards the bottom of the stairs.

Lexi exited her study and walked to the top of the stairs so she didn’t have to yell anymore, “It just needed to come down honey. You know how these things are. Now, no making a fuss. You can still show Carol the neighborhood.” Lexi looked around, “Where is she?”

“Oh, I’m just in the kitchen! Don’t mind me. Grabbing a juice from the fridge.”

“Don’t let her eat any of the hamantashen, Eemah made them earlier today.”

“They for tomorrow?”

“Yeah, guests are coming over.”

Carol walked into view, holding a half eaten triangular shaped cookie. “Hi Mrs. Breitman!” She took another bite while Lexi motioned to Elijah incredulously and Elijah shrugged.

“Well, I wish you would have told me, mom. I would have liked to have said goodbye.” Elijah looked down, turned around, and walked with his fiancée to the back door.

(more…)

Started a Patreon

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Hey gang. I started a Patreon account for this site. The more money I get on there, the more I can post on here. The more I can post on here, the better I get as a writer. And it goes cyclical from there. Anyway, if you like what I do, please consider joining my Patreon at https://www.patreon.com/StephenHemmer or sharing it and this wordpress account around.

The Price of Ink

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“May I come in? The rain is getting much stronger outside and there is nowhere else for several miles.”

Gregor looked at the tall stranger with deep confusion, but motioned for him to come inside. He spoke with deep generosity. “Yes, yes, of course, please. We can’t have you out in the elements. What kind of host would I be if I did?” Gregor started walking back deeper into his small home.

The stranger stood in the front portion of Gregor’s home awkwardly, dripping from his long dark cloak and wide brimmed hat. Gregor almost fell over, turning around so quickly. “I’m so so sorry. Please, let me take that hat and cloak of yours. They are absolutely soaked.”

The stranger shook his head gently and said, “No, it is quite alright. I would just like to warm up and dry off by your fire. I imagine that the weather will turn well soon, I can feel it in my knees.” Gregor felt warmth from his guest’s deep baritone. It felt like the voice of a friend he must have forgotten.

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