The Draw
The candlelight flickered across the scattered Tarot cards, casting dancing shadows against the dorm room walls. Your friends had gone home hours ago, but you'd stayed behind, drawn back to the deck on the coffee table. Just one more look. Just to understand what Paxton had been so terrified of.
Your fingers brushed against the cards, shuffling through them until one seemed to almost stick to your skin.
The Fool.
You turned it over. A jester danced on the edge of a cliff, oblivious to the drop below. Innocent. Carefree. The card felt warm in your hands, warmer than it should have been.
"Don't be surprised if you're feeling trapped or boxed in," you murmured, remembering Haley's words from the party. "Just remember, when one door closes—"
DING.
The elevator at the end of the hall.
You looked up. The hallway was empty. Of course it was empty. It was 2 AM.
DING.
Closer now. That didn't make sense. The elevator was at the end of the hall. You'd have heard doors opening, footsteps—
DING.
Right outside your door.
The warmth of the card turned ice cold. You dropped it like it had burned you, but it was too late. The card lay face-up on the table, and the jester in the illustration seemed to be looking at you now. Directly at you. Its painted smile wider than before.
The lights flickered.
Your door, still locked, still bolted, slowly swung open on its own.
And in the darkness of the doorway, something stood. Something that bent in ways nothing should bend. Something that watched you with eyes that weren't there a second ago.