This is a Chain story passed between 
There is very little collusion between the writers as it is challenging to discover and develop a story by attuning the writing to the partner's plot, style and presentation.
Page 4 of Tarot Tales by
The High Priestess brought The Fool and his dog to a mysterious pool of water in her temple and invited them to bathe and drink. The Fool discovered a mysterious object at the bottom of the pool and dove down to see it. Enchanted by the mysterious mirror, The Fool is drowning.
It is now @KD-Neeley's turn to add a link to the story in Page 5 of Tarot Tales.
As The Fool sank a muffled sound whispered through the thick water, “woof woof”. Prashanta leapt into the pool, splashing. She swam out to the center where air bubbles rose to the surface and the dog put her head under the water. Surrounded by darkness, the sinking Fool felt a familiar mouth grip his armpit with teeth that would not break his skin. The large dog pushed her master up toward the sunlight.
The Fool’s head broke through the water and he gasped desperately for air. The two of them splashed wildly, as if learning to swim for the first time. Prashanta barked and whined as The Fool came to his senses. Soon the two of them laid on the warm, sunlit stones next to the strange pool. Prashanta shook the water off her thick fur, and cold sprinkles showered him, stinging. The pair laid in the sunlight, catching their breath.
“Dear god!” cried a voice, “Have some respect for the dead and put your clothes on!”
Still coughing up water, and gasping for breath, The Fool sat up. The Temple was gone. The stones encircling the strange bath were surrounded now by bright grass. There was a terrible stench on the light breeze and black birds cawed. Catching a large whiff as he swallowed air, The Fool gagged.
“Well what do you expect?” the voice sounded defensive, “I’ve been here for well over three days.”
Looking around, The Fool saw clothes neatly laid out in the sun, and his possessions nearby, including his pack which contained the strange book he had received from the Hermit. What the hell was going on? Where was the High Priestess?
“She took good care of you,” said the voice, “Now get dressed.”
Where was that voice coming from? What was that rotten smell? Prashanta was sniffing at the air, it didn’t seem to bother her. The Fool walked up to the clothing while Prashanta explored. As he stared at the wardrobe with the red-feathered cap he wondered where he had seen this before. His own motley clothes that he had thrown into the pool were nowhere in sight. He decided to go ahead and wear what was laid out before him, he was naked afterall.
The Fool was dressed and he began walking through the grass in search of his curious dog. “Prashanta! Where are you girl?”
“Woof! Woof!” She wasn’t too far off. He followed the barking and couldn’t believe what he was looking at. She was with him, but that couldn’t be him.
“Prashanta?” his dog didn’t respond but kept barking and sniffing at his hanging corpse.
“About time you showed up” said The Fool’s voice to The Fool himself.
The Fool stood gaping at his own rotting corpse which hung from a tree. The Hanged Man’s voice resounded in The Fool’s own head saying, “We need to talk.”
Talk about the joke being on you. A flash of memory came then, something about two alternate futures, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. It was like trying to remember a fading dream. Despite the rotten stench, The Fool sat beneath the tree, bewildered. Prashanta was gnawing at the Hanged Man’s boots, his old boots.
That’s it! This must be a trick. Another joke from The High Priestess. She really makes you pay for water. It didn’t explain the change in scenery, but she must have dressed this awful corpse in his old clothes.
“Is that the best you can do?” The Hanged Man asked.
The Fool’s hands went up to his head and he pulled at his own hair, “You can hear my thoughts?” asked The Fool.
“Can’t you?” asked The Hanged Man.
The Fool leaned back against the tree, aghast. This can’t be happening. It must be a dream, might as well go along with it. “Looks like you told one joke too many,” said The Fool to himself.
“Easy for you to say,” said the Hanged Man, “Let me give you some advice.”
“I’m listening,” said The Fool.
“Feed people.”
Of course! Thought The Fool, this is a dream, why would it make sense? “Are you saying we should open a pub?” asked The Fool.
He waited for his corpse to respond, but none ever came. He watched The Hanged Man dangle in the breeze as crows picked at his face. The Fool still wasn’t used to the smell and began dry heaving. Prashanta whined, “Come on girl,” said The Fool, “Let’s get out of here.”
His new clothes and boots were comfortable and easy to walk in. Any moment now he would wake up though, and his sore feet would remember the blisters he’d get from those old boots. The Fool pinched himself as he walked, and tried to wake up. Hard as he tried it seemed, he was awake after all.
Now the torch is passed on to
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