The room is empty aside from a robed monk sat on a mat. Opening the door you see him and fear you have bothered him. Beginning to leave, the monk raises his hand, stopping you, then presenting a dharma mat inviting you to join him. You try to speak but the monk places a finger over his mouth and smiles. The next few moments are spent cross-legged facing each other in silence coupled with intense happiness, everything shared with smiles.
A wooden door decorated with clubs, diamonds, spades and hearts worn proudly by Kings and Queens scavenged by Jacks. Jokers giggle in the four corners.
Everything in the room is made of cards. Aside from the walls and floors everything is a house of cards. It all looks so delicately beautiful, a sudden draft would send it all crashing down. Card after card interlock to form chairs, tables and a fireplace, hearts and diamonds swirling in pyro technic motion. A chandelier of clubs hangs in the centre over a table of spades flanked by chairs of diamonds and hearts.
You walk around careful not to touch anything, admiring the intricacy of the room and its constructs, the ornaments of dragons and spiders crafted from cards, the picture on the wall a mosaic of cards and a bird-cage with jittering parrots construed out of jokers cackling with glee.
You slip into a dream state forgetting where you are and accidentally sit on one of the chairs. It immediately buckles, collapsing in a shower of cards scattered across the floor causing the table to fall like an empire made up of flimsy alliances. The cards seep into the floor, as if by osmosis. Then they are spat forth as if from a shuffling machine raining down from the air back, resurrected as chairs and table once more. The parrots are excited and fluff diamond plumage conversing joyfully.
As amazing as that was you don’t want to cause anymore disturbances and you leave the room.
Again all rough. Feedback welcomed.