The Language of Cards at Your Fingertips

“What the hell is that?!”

His fists clench until his knuckles turn white. His pupils contract sharply with terror as he stumbles back half a step and hits the cold wall.

“Face your judgment...”

A figure steps out of the shadows wearing a battered clown mask. Its voice is hoarse, like rusty metal scraping together, as it toys with a playing card (the King of the K suit).

“W-what?!”

The man’s throat tightens. Cold sweat runs from his temple into his eye as he stares at the strange, smiling mouth visible beneath the mask.

I slowly remove my mask, revealing a face identical to the man’s, though a crazed crimson light churns in my eyes. “I’m not the real Joker. You are!”

The man collapses to the floor, his lips trembling as tears mingle with cold sweat and stream down his face. “I was wrong! I was wrong! Don’t come any closer!”