#WhisperingCards

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Queen of Spades Shaina Tranquilino October 29, 2024

Ethan liked to think of himself as an amateur magician. He’d spent countless hours practicing sleights and tricks, reveling in the look of astonishment on his friends' faces. His collection of playing cards was vast, from intricate vintage sets to modern flashy decks, but none had intrigued him like the one he found that evening. It was in a dusty corner of a small antique shop, tucked behind a pile of old books. The deck had no box, just a worn, weathered band holding it together. The cards were old, their once-white faces now yellowed with age. The designs on their backs were mesmerizing—swirls and patterns that seemed to shift slightly if you looked too closely.

The old shopkeeper, a hunched man with sunken eyes, noticed Ethan staring at the deck.

“That one’s not for sale,” the man said, his voice dry and cracked like the deck itself.

Ethan looked up, a half-smile forming on his lips. “Come on, everything’s for sale. I’ll pay double whatever it’s worth.”

The shopkeeper’s eyes darkened, his expression unreadable. “It’s not about money. That deck—there’s something wrong with it.”

Now Ethan was hooked. Forbidden things always fascinated him.

“Tell you what,” Ethan said, “I’ll pay you double, and if something is wrong with it, I’ll bring it back.”

The old man hesitated for a long moment, then gave a slow nod. “It’s on you now. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Ethan left the shop, the old cards tucked into his jacket pocket, and hurried home, excited to try out his new find.

That night, alone in his dimly lit apartment, Ethan laid the cards out on the table. He marveled at how smooth they felt despite their age. As he shuffled the deck, a strange sensation crept over him—a tingling in his fingertips, as though the cards were alive with static electricity.

Ignoring the unease creeping up his spine, he started to practice his favorite trick, The Ambitious Card. He drew a random card, the Queen of Spades, and slid it into the middle of the deck. He snapped his fingers, ready for the reveal, but when he flipped the top card, it was wrong. It wasn’t the Queen.

Odd, he thought.

He tried again, this time shuffling with more precision. The wrong card appeared once more.

Frustrated, Ethan began rifling through the deck, and that’s when he heard it—the faintest of whispers, like wind through dead leaves. He froze. The sound was soft, almost imperceptible, but unmistakable. He glanced around the room. There was no open window, no draft.

The whispering continued, and his eyes fell back to the cards.

It was coming from the deck.

Ethan’s mouth went dry. He pushed the deck away, but the whispers grew louder, clearer. He couldn’t make out words, but the tone was unmistakable—urgent, pleading, angry. His heart pounded in his chest as a strange compulsion washed over him. His hand moved toward the deck, almost against his will.

With trembling fingers, he spread the cards out once more. This time, something was different. Each card was covered in words—tiny, scrawled messages, smeared and chaotic. Ethan’s eyes widened in horror as he realized the words were names. Hundreds, maybe thousands of names, written in a frantic, desperate hand.

One name stood out among the rest. His own.

A cold sweat broke out on his forehead, and his breath quickened. He flipped the Queen of Spades again, and this time, something else was written on it:

LISTEN.

The whispering swelled around him, turning into something darker, more malicious. The room felt colder. Shadows stretched unnaturally across the walls, and the air itself seemed to thrum with malevolent energy.

“No…” Ethan muttered, trying to break the grip the deck had on him. But the whispers surged, hissing now, urgent and guttural. His head throbbed, and his vision swam.

Suddenly, his phone rang, piercing the oppressive quiet. He scrambled to answer, his hands shaking.

It was his friend, Matt. “Hey, man! You okay? I was just thinking about that magic trick you showed me last week. The one with the cards?”

Ethan’s mouth was dry. “Matt… the cards…”

“Yeah, that one! Funny thing, though… I remember the card you showed me was the Queen of Spades. Same one you showed me the week before. Weird, right?”

Ethan’s heart sank. “Matt, stop—”

Matt chuckled. “Anyway, I was wondering if you still had those cards. Thought maybe you’d let me borrow them for my party tomorrow?”

Ethan looked down at the deck. The whispers were almost deafening now, swirling around him like a storm, and then, with chilling clarity, they stopped. Silence.

He stared at the cards, his pulse racing.

Matt’s voice on the phone changed, his tone dropping to a hollow rasp. “Why don’t you bring them by?”

Ethan felt a cold hand grip his heart. “Matt?”

The voice that answered wasn’t Matt’s anymore.

“Bring them. We’re waiting.”

The line went dead.

The cards lay in front of him, their ancient patterns swirling, mocking. And then, for the first time, one card slid out on its own, face up.

It was the Queen of Spades.

Her dark eyes gleamed, and the whispers returned.