Ann’s Fashion Tarot, Crimson Edition: The Moon.

The Moon says, oooooh. Hello and welcome.

Back to the burial. As soon as I opened the tub and stuck my hand inside, the rest of the world roared and promptly disappeared. It was all blurry except for what I pulled out piece by piece and laid out on the leaves Scott had made up as a mat. The Histology people had told me it wouldn’t be in one single piece and they were really very right. There were maybe nine pieces, or so. The colors were amazing. The colors were the main way we figured out how to put it back together.

At the bottom, guessing this was the cervix, was a disc or cup of really lovely ivory, like a mussel or a large soft tooth. It practically glowed. The uterus was surprisingly pale, muscular, tiny. The whole assemblage was maybe half the size of my fist. The tubes were delicate and coiled and ridged on the ends, like things about to unfurl. The connector piece between what we figured was the cervix and the rest of it, that was the killer. Honestly I don’t know what it was, maybe there’s not a name for it, like it’s just gradations of color. I don’t care, I’m not looking it up. It was gorgeous. It was pinkish and streaked with the finest lines of red. They might have been actual ridges, not just lines, but honestly everything was so small and also somewhat slippery due to the 50% alcohol, it was hard to get a sense of texture.

When we were done, when there were no pieces left in the tub, I took a good long look. Seriously it was so goddamn small. Scott was like, you want to say anything? I had zero complete thoughts at the moment, absolutely nothing, so I just said, no. Scott turned to it and said, well, I’m grateful. That was when we wrapped it in the leaf and handed it over to Jake, and the two of them went down the ravine and started digging, and you know the rest.

When you pull The Moon it means the mystery probably can’t be solved but it also can’t be avoided. I am going to say, just fall into it.