Finished Tea & Filled Bottle - Magic & Mushrooms

Awakening from a well-deserved sleep, Reuben opened his eyes feeling refreshed and ready for the day ahead. Slipping on a pair of slippers, he shuffled to the kitchen and poured himself a comforting cup of Earl Grey. The warmth seeped into his fingers, and he let out a contented sigh. Unlike most people who relied on their morning coffee, Reuben thrived on tea — black teas in the morning, green teas in the evening. It was a ritual that anchored his days.

Cup in hand, he stepped outside, breathing in the crisp morning air. The sun had just begun to peek over the treetops, casting a soft glow over his garden. Still warm enough to lounge in his shorts, Reuben made his way to the gazebo, where he prepared for his daily ritual.

In the gazebo, he set his tea down on a small meditation table and lit a stick of dragon’s blood incense. The air filled with its heady aroma, mingling with the gentle tolling of windchimes that swayed with the breeze. Reuben opened a small chest in the corner of the gazebo, retrieving his well-worn Fountain Tarot deck wrapped in satin. He laid it on the table, settled into a cross-legged position, and took a few deep breaths to center himself.

Deep breath in. Hold. Slow exhale. He repeated the steps a few more times, focusing on the chimes’ delicate clinks and the incense’s comforting scent. Reuben let his thoughts drift past him without lingering, clearing his mind of any lingering distractions.

Feeling grounded, he slowly opened his eyes and unwrapped the deck from its protective cloth. Holding the cards between his hands, he murmured, “What do I need to know today?” He shuffled the deck methodically, cut it into thirds, and reassembled it before drawing the top card: The King of Wands, upright. He chuckled softly to himself. The message was clear — life is a growing adventure. It was a card of leadership and embracing change. Reuben took a moment to appreciate its significance before drawing a second card: The Ace of Cups, upright. A grin spread across his face. These cards hinted at the beginning of a new emotional journey, something promising yet unpredictable.

He nodded, satisfied with the insight. After returning the cards to their deck and giving them a cleansing shuffle, he carefully rewrapped them and placed them back in the chest. Leaning against the gazebo’s frame, he watched as the morning sunlight danced across the creek behind his house, reflecting off the gentle ripples in the water. It felt like a good day already.

But a glance at his watch made him snap back to reality — it was getting late. He rushed inside, grabbed his keys, the slip of paper with his client’s address, and the flask of tea he had dubbed Divinitea, before dashing out the door.

Returning home from the delivery, Reuben set his keys down on a small table near the entrance and carried the bag of money to the kitchen. A broad smile spread across his face as he emptied the bag onto the counter and began counting the cash. It was all there. “Wonderful,” he muttered to himself. He felt a pang of excitement at the success of his creation and hoped the client enjoyed it as much as she seemed to need it.

But the joy was fleeting. As he gazed out the window towards his workshop, he remembered the mess he had left behind. Letting out a reluctant sigh, he decided he couldn’t avoid it any longer. It was time to clean up.

Back in the workshop, Reuben began gathering the used bowls and pestles, muttering to himself about being more organized next time. As he reached for the wooden crate, something caught his eye — the sacred bottle, the one meant to capture a soul, was no longer empty. Instead, it was filled with a swirling mass of red and orange smoke. His eyes widened in shock, and he frantically scanned the room, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. What could the bottle have absorbed?

His gaze fell on the wooden crate. Wedged between the glass and the velvet cloth inside was a small, shriveled toadstool. No... The memory of knocking over the wicker basket flashed through his mind, and a wave of dread washed over him.

“A toadstool? Seriously? Fuck.” he groaned, scratching his head in disbelief. He stared at the bottle, its colors shifting hypnotically within the glass. How could I have been so careless? He had left such a powerful artifact sitting out in the open, and now it had captured the soul of a simple fungus. Of all the possibilities — a majestic fox or a rare magical creature — yet he had ended up with a toadstool.

Reuben took a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves, but his mind kept flashing back to the cards he had drawn earlier. “The Fool” card from a few days ago now seemed like an omen, a warning he had ignored. And today’s reading — the King of Wands and Ace of Cups — had foretold an emotional journey. He certainly wasn’t feeling the emotions he’d expected.

Reuben glared at the bottle, rolling his eyes at his predicament. He picked it up with a resigned sigh. “Well, what can you do?” he muttered. With the bottle in hand, he left the workshop, knowing that despite his best-laid plans, the universe seemed intent on throwing him curveballs.

His emotional journey had indeed begun, but it was not the adventure he had anticipated.