The great sacred tarot you only throw once in you life stated that I was born under the sign of Nahemoth. What a bliss! What a favorable sign! “Oh, dear. Rupert was born under the aegis of Nahemoth, god of the twisted freak.” Praise be, the silly angel of ugly. I was a pretty child. So I have been told. My first memory is darting around on a lawn. My parents sit, both of them together, at a small table. They are talking about something I do not understand. I remember thinking then that I wanted to understand. Later on I remember thinking back on scenes like that wishing them to be together more often. They were nice people, both of them. They just had no idea how to handle being a couple, let alone love. Being married and having children was just some chore they did because they were supposed to. Ages later I can still wish I had had the courage then to ask how it felt. Did they become friends or did they love each other, or were they just somehow working together?
Born under Nahemoth. Silly angel of ugly. I grew up to be handsome. Perhaps the deformity was in my soul. Or in my parents shunted hearts.
Music by Atrium Carceri
Tarot card art by Axel Torvenius