The Fool's Gold

Fool In Our Hands

When Sultan flipped the card over, he saw an image on the front of it. It was an image of a hooded figure, cloaked in shadows. A single purple eye could be seen, staring out from the hood. 

A purple mist seemed to emanate from the figure, spreading out into the darkness around it. And beneath the image were two words, written in a strange, otherworldly script: "The FOOL.”

The longer Sultan looked at it, the more the figure in the card seemed to shift and change, as if they were alive. 

Suddenly, he heard a voice in his head, a low, deep voice that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once.

"What do you wish for?" it asked.

"Huh? Who's there?," Sulton demanded out of a bit of dread. Everything around him lately these days has been so… unreal and it's messing with his sanity. Perhaps, this was all his imagination.

But as he spoke, the symbols on the card began to glow even brighter, pulsing with light. The voice in his head spoke again, this time with a sense of amusement.

"You have not answered my question. What is your desire? What is it that you truly want?"

Sultan thought for a moment, trying to put his thoughts into words. If perhaps this was all real, he might actually get a fortune. All the way, there was no harm in trying. 

Finally, he spoke. "I want to dominate the world. I want to trample everyone beneath my feet. Like an ace, I want to be at the top of everything!” Sultan spoke grudgingly, he didn't even realize he had begun yelling and clenching his fists.

Sultan took a deep breath, hoping to calm himself down. But instead of feeling calmer, he felt even more annoyed. Why had he wasted his time talking to a card when he could have been working or heading home? He was furious with himself.

Sultan's anger rose to a boiling point. He stood up abruptly, the envelope he'd put in his pocket but was about to fall, fell off at once. His eyes were narrowed, and he felt like he might burst at any moment. With a loud grunt, he threw the card into the air as hard as he could. 

 The card spun wildly in a whirl of colors, like a dervish dancing in a sandstorm. Suddenly, it stopped, hovering in the air like a bird suspended in time. 

Sultan's jaw dropped, and his anger dissipated into shock. "How is this possible?' he thought, stunned beyond belief. His mind reeled, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. 

It simply didn't add up - a card couldn't possibly stay in the air like this. It was defying the laws of physics, gravity, everything! But there it was, floating serenely in front of him.

Overcome by panic, Sultan did what any rational person would do: he turned on his heel and sprinted away. His footsteps pounded against the cobblestone as he raced out of there, his mind racing as fast as his feet.

But that was fruitless and futile. Like being sucked into a black hole, Sultan felt himself being pulled back and drawn by a magnetic wave. Instinctively, he yelled for help, "Aah!!! Help! Help! Hel...."

His last words were cut short when he and the card suddenly disappeared. And then, blank. Everything felt like it never happened, everyone passed doing their normal thing. No one noticed anything.

Sultan came to, and the first thing he did was look around to get his bearings. As he did, he noticed that the card was still clutched in his hand. But when he looked down at it, the image had changed.

The card now showed the image of the Joker, the court jester of the Tarot. He wore a top hat, and a lock of hair peeked out from underneath it. The joker's face was painted white, with bright red lips and mischievous eyes. The words 'The Fool' were written across the top of the card, in bold, red letters. 

Sultan didn't understand anything - it was all so strange. So, he decided to ignore it. He looked up to survey his new surroundings. Suddenly, a hand grabbed him roughly by the shoulder. “Why are you out of line?” a stern voice demanded. “Didn't you hear me? Get back in line!”

He was shoved unceremoniously into a long line of people, all standing in silence. He turned to look at the person who had spoken, but they had vanished into the crowd.

The line inched forward slowly, and Sultan was confused about why he was there. But since the other people in the line were all following instructions, he decided to go along with the flow. 

After all, it would be rude to make a scene, and he didn't want to cause any trouble. So, he stood there, waiting - waiting for the unexpected…

As he got closer to the front of the line, he could hear the person in charge of the line giving instructions. “Step onto the iron ground,” he heard, “And place your hand on the stone.” 

The words were faint, and he couldn't quite make out everything that was being said. But he got the general idea. They're being tested or picked for something.

Soon, there were now just two people in front of him: a young girl and a young boy. The girl looked to be about 12 years old, while the boy was probably somewhere between 18 and 20. 

The general's voice boomed as he said to the young man, “Put your hand on the stone, and step onto the iron ground.” 

Sultan moved to the side as he tried to take a peek at what was happening in front of the general, but another commander from a different patch cast him a scowling look. 

Sultan didn't want to attract any more unwanted attention, so he stepped back and stood behind the girl. Since she was rather short, he was able to see everything that was happening from where he stood.

Sultan couldn't take his eyes off the young boy, he watched how the young boy tried to withdrew his hand from the stone. The young man seemed very uncomfortable now, and it looked as though he wanted to pull his hand away.

But then the general suddenly stood up and slammed his hand down on the boy's hand, pinning it to the stone. “Don't you dare take off your hand,” he barked at the boy, who looked pale and frightened. The general glared at the boy, daring him to disobey.

Just as Sultan was watching the scene before him, the other general, who had previously scowled at him, called out, “Hey, eyes down!” Sultan immediately looked down, terrified of disobeying the order.

This was a very strange place, and Sultan knew he couldn't risk being disrespectful. After all, he was on their turf now.

Sultan couldn't see anything happening in front, but he could hear the general's words, and after a moment, he heard him say, “Go. You'll join Unit Five.” 

The general must have been speaking to the young man with his hand on the stone. Sultan heard some shuffling, and then a door slammed.

After a short silence, the girl stepped forward and heard the general speak the same words. “Place your hand on the stone while you stand on the iron ground.” 

Sultan held his breath - it will soon be his turn.

Few seconds later, Sultan could hear the girl stifling little grunts of pain, but trying not to make any noise, perhaps out of fear of angering the general. She stood on the iron ground with her hand on the stone, but Sultan could hear her knees shaking.

Sultan's heart was pounding as he stood there, unsure of what to expect. What if he had to put his hand on the stone? What if he experienced the same pain the girl had? He had no idea what he had gotten himself into, but he prayed that he would be all right. 

Then he heard the general speak again. “Go. You'll join Unit Three.” The girl must have been dismissed. What would happen to him now?

A door creaked open and then slammed shut. A moment later, the general barked, “Do I have to tell you to step forward?” This was it. Sultan took a deep breath, and then, with shaky legs, he stepped forward.

The General repeated, "Place your hand on the stone. Immediately, step on the iron ground.”

Sultan nodded and stepped forward, placing his hand on the stone as instructed. Then, as soon as his foot touched the iron, he felt a burning sensation. His muscles began to contract and spasm. He gritted his teeth, trying to keep from crying out in agony. Though, his only lasted a nanosecond.

As the pain subsided, Sultan opened his eyes. He noticed that the stone was glowing a golden color, almost as if it were radiating warmth. He looked up at the general, expecting the next thing.

But, the general stood silent for a moment, staring at Sultan in a way that was beginning to make him feel uneasy. “Sir,” he began, “which unit am I supposed to go to next?”

But instead of answering, the general stood in complete silence. For several long moments, he didn't say a word, just staring at Sultan as if in disbelief. When he finally spoke, he said, “Sound the alarm. Get the Hermit here. I believe we may have a 'fool' on our hands.” 

The general's words left Sultan confused, concerned and stunned. “Huh?”