The Dark Somnium - The Darkest Bet I've Ever Made

Episode Date: July 15, 2024

This Creepypasta scary story is from the creepypasta website, written by Michael Gilbert, Check out the original story hereThe Darkest Bet I've Ever Made: https://www.creepypasta.com/miss-fortune/Special thanks to  @RomNex  for joining me in this story00:00 Part 122:26 Part 241:28 Part 3 Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.

At some point, everyone asks themselves how different their life would be if they had been given a second chance. It could come in any form you like. You could have been one number off of winning the lottery. Maybe you're one of those people who wondered what would have happened if that X of yours had taken you back. Whatever it is, at some point you think about those things, and you notice people who were given those opportunities, and it seemed to work out all right for them. On the outside, anyway. Take it from me.

I used to be like that. I used to kick myself all the time for letting myself miss out on some opportunities I was too dumb to take at the time or follow through with. Then I started loathing the people I saw who were better off than me, and sometimes I would curse God for picking them over me. I know better now. I don't think God has much to do with how things like that get chosen. I think now that things all really come down to luck and our choice at what to do with what to do. about it. At least, I hope we have a choice when it comes down to our lives. The luck doesn't rule that too. What I more importantly learned is that sometimes you are just better off doing the best you can

with the cards you are dealt and not trying to change your hand. I've been looking over my shoulder ever since I learned this. Sometimes at night I can catch a glimpse of a faint glow of green eyes watching me. They are never there when I turn around. Whenever I find money on the street or lose some laundry, I can feel those eyes staring at me. I was in a car wreck a week ago. A cat ran out in front of me and I swerved to avoid it, hitting a barrier. As I got out, I could swear this chilling, giggling came over the radio. The sound was all too familiar to me now. I know it is waiting for me. It's waiting for one more shot at me, towing with me as time passed. It toys with you too, with everyone.

It all started one night at a local casino. What was that count again? I thought to myself as I stared down at the table. Was it up two or was it three? I doubled down on the last hand, and I was so thrilled to win it, I didn't see the last two cards the guy to the left of me was dealt. The dealer was showing at three, so my best bet was to play it safe with my twelve and stand. The old dealer makes a hand gesture on the table and flatly tells me good luck before he moves on to the guy to my left.

I only recently learned to count cards, but I had never actually done it at a casino before. It's easy to do at home on your coffee table, quietly saying the numbers aloud. But when you're actually there, if you're too obvious about what you're doing, it's an express ticket to meeting the pavement outside. I'm here again tonight. The last time I came in, I won some decent money. Not really enough money to do anything meaningful with, but enough to make me want to come back. This time I came prepared with the counting system I learned, watching YouTube videos, and

gleaning what I could from various internet sites. This system is supposed to improve my odds at winning in the long run, but I guess that's why they call them odds and not surety. For a moment, I look up and stare at the other gamblers on the floor. There are some people around the roulette table, the usual old women parked at their nickel in penny slots and the other blackjack players. I look in the direction of the high roller area and see men and women in nice suits and dresses throwing money around like it was a game of monopoly. This resentment builds up in my gut, so I look away. I was really just pissed at myself.

There was a time when I could have been like that. If I hadn't dropped out of law school the previous year, I could have stuck it out. I could have done something meaningful. I guess I still can. I'm still fairly young. The issue with that was that I had a dead end job at the moment. My father used to help me out financially when I was in school. He was a high-end divorce lawyer for people unlucky enough to fall in love with the wrong person. Needless to say, he did very well. We had a huge fight when I told him I dropped out of school. My mother had died in a car accident when I was 13, so I didn't have her to turn to. He said I gave up too easily. I won't admit it to him, but he was right.

I guess I don't really hate those rich people over in the high roller corner of the room. I'm just angry with myself that I couldn't cut it to make it like they did. I hate myself for giving up and blowing what I had away. I saw gambling as an easy fix for how I felt, and maybe, just maybe, I could eventually get good enough to turn it around just enough to go back to school and try again. I glance back at the cards to my left slightly and change the count accordingly. Statistically, at this point, the dealer should bust. The old man throws the other player a card, then goes back to his own hand.

He flips over his down card to show a seven. There's a voice in my head that says, are you kidding me? He hits and gets a queen of spades. 20. Sorry about that, son. The old dealer says in that flat, rehearsed voice, It's all right. Not like I was going to break even or anything.

I tried to be cool about it. Tough break, goes the voice in my head. Tough break. I hear someone say behind me, almost in unison with the thought I had. I turned my head to the side as this small sinking feeling hits my lungs. It was the kind of jarring feeling you get at weird coincidences like that. To my right was a blonde woman who looked to be in her early 30s, wearing a dark, expensive-looking dealer's uniform.

A moment ago, the seat on my right was empty. She was looking at me with these green eyes. It was a strange look she was giving me, almost like she was noticing something nobody else could see. Sometimes you hear people use the term piercing gaze. That didn't even begin to describe the vibe I was getting from her. Then she smiles at me, slowly, revealing every white tooth at her own pace. The lips hover over her canines slightly, and for a moment, I almost expect to see a pair of vampire fangs.

I'm not that pretty. I turned my head back to the table. I must have looked stupid staring back at her like that. Normally I would have blushed staring at a woman like that, but for some reason, I wasn't getting the blood to my face fast enough. Instead, there was still this draining feeling. Sorry, I didn't see you sit down was all. I tried to brush it off. I forgive you.

For now. Out of the corner of my eye, I see her smile, that vampire smile again. The dealer interrupts her and asks how many chips she's going to buy. She tells him $5 worth. A man, it's a $5 table. Are you sure you don't want any more? $5 will be just fine. The cards get dealt again, and I see I have a 15 total for this hand.

I realized I had completely forgotten the running count I was keeping. The moment that thought crossed my mind, the woman turns to me. her head to me and says, It all comes down to luck anyway. I'm not sure anyone else at the table heard that. I might have thought she was with the casino, catching card counters, but she was playing like all the other people here. Still, she had my attention as we played.

I have never said this about anyone else I've ever met, but she was eerily fascinating to watch. She was pretty, of course, but not the kind of pretty you would see on TV or in fashion magazines, more real-to-life features. She wasn't thin, not by today's standards anyway, but I wouldn't call her fat either. She wasn't tan at all, but not really pale either. What drew my attention the most was how she played. It was like watching a child playing a game of Go Fish.

She was just kind of doing things, hitting, standing, doubling down, not really looking like she was considering anything. I would have thought she was just another dumb blonde girl, except she was winning every hand. At first, I blew it off as dumb luck. Then, after about five hands, I started getting angry. I was playing to basic strategy, modifying my bets and my play as I thought the count was going, and I was slowly losing. In contrast, this woman sitting next to me, seemingly without a care in the world, never losing her smile,

was making ridiculous plays and having them pay off. By the tenth hand, I was just awestruck. The woman had a hard nineteen for a hand, and she picked up her chips. and places her bet and says, Double down. The dealer was staring at her incredulously, as was I, and asked her if she was sure. She only giggled at him and nodded her head. She had this look on her face that almost made me think she was drunk,

but she didn't have a drink, and didn't even smell of booze. The dealer sighed a bit as he took the next card out and placed it next to her hand. There was only one card that would help her, and there it was, but two. The guy to my left roars with this belief and the dealer laughs. I just keep staring, not even caring about my losing streak. She didn't seem surprised or happy, just this look of drunken contentment. calmly she picks up a five chip and pushes the rest of the table and stands up. The dealer asks her what she's doing with her chips and the only thing she says is...

Easy come, easy go. She turns to me. Hungry? I was just about to go over to the diner. if you're interested. I was dumbstruck at the sudden offer. The only thing I managed to say was, sure. I didn't even really think about it.

As I was cashing out what little I had left, I had a short conversation with myself. Maybe she was an elite player who got kicks out of impressing new players. She did catch me counting cards, didn't she? Maybe she worked for the casino. Her outfit does resemble a uniform, but I'd never seen any like it before. black with gold trim and silver buttons. I caught up with her as she entered the diner adjacent from the casino floor. She placed a small handbag on the table and motioned for me to sit at the chair opposite her.

It was a nice looking place. It was a hotel diner in casino. Not like Vegas or anything, but definitely cared about. Well furnished and well kept. A waitress came over and asked us what we would like to drink. I checked my light in pockets and asked for water. The woman only said. No, thank you.

Normally, I'm the one who has to ask somebody out. I joked. She only stared at me with those green eyes of hers as we sat down. Her smile no longer present. She reached over the table, offering me a handshake. I clasped her hand, noticing an expensive-looking ring she was wearing. I'm Jake, and you are Mrs.— Miss.

Sorry, I thought you were married. She looked down at her ring. Well, in a way, I am. I'm married to my job. She let go of my hand. What is your job? As soon as I say this, I can hear the beeping and whirling noises of a slot machine hitting a jackpot. At the sound of the slot machine, the woman's eyes slowly close, and she gave a contentious smile as the intoxicated look returned to her face.

Miss, are you okay? I'm wonderful. She giggles a bit as her eyes open again. I admit this woman made me feel a bit uneasy, but I would be. It was too drawn in by everything I had seen to just walk away now. Do you work here at the casino? Today I am. Why don't you ask me what you really want to ask me?

What do you mean? At the card table. You want to know how I did what I did. How did you do that? It was like you knew what card was coming next. At that time, I thought she might be one of those people you see on the news sometimes who have superhuman memory. I thought she might have kept track of where all the cards were.

It was a far-fetched explanation, I know, but I was at a loss for everything else rational. I didn't know. It was luck. Luck. She must be playing with me. So why did you win all that money if you weren't going to keep it? I didn't win anything. I just moved it around a bit as all.

It was fun. Moved it. Do you keep everything you have ever gotten? Every dollar you earn at your job? Does it sit in a bank somewhere or do you send it elsewhere? Well, everyone spends their money, but I don't see what that has to do with your casino chips. So it's not really yours, then. Are you talking philosophically?

I guess in that sense, nobody really owns anything. Why do you say that? Well, ultimately, you can't really keep anything. And that is my job. She smiles that drunken vampire smile of hers again, as she closes her eyes and rolls her head. I'm still not getting it. Is something wrong? She ignores me, seemingly lost in something I can't quite grasp.

Somebody here just lost $2,000 at the roulette table. As I hear her say that, I can hear aggravated yelling in the distance. She has to be putting me on, I thought to myself. Whatever this woman was on, she was really feeling it now. It was like waves of euphoria were washing over her as her body quakes slightly. A giggling turned to laughter. I felt uncomfortable, like people were starting to stare at us. Her laughing died down a bit as she tilted her head back down towards her lap.

She still had that smile on her face while she slowly brought her head back in my direction. Those green eyes opened as her tongue came out and licked her lips. If this were any other woman, I would have thought I was being hit on. This woman, however, made me feel like I was a deer staring a wolf in the face. A sudden instinct kicked in somewhere inside me to run. I wanted to be as far away from this woman as possible. I think the only thing that kept me from doing that right then was the fact we were in a public place. I would look stupid running away from a pretty girl in front of everyone.

I always thought there was some irony about mankind being at the top of the food chain for our intellect, and yet so stupid to be able to ignore those kinds of voices. So tell me, what is it that you would want? If you could have anything. She came too instantly and stared at me with that gaze. I didn't like it. I wanted to look away from her eyes, but I found that I couldn't. This feeling entered my throat and worked its way down into my chest.

At once I found myself talking without meaning to. I told her about how I dropped out of college last year. I was going to law school to become an attorney like my dad. I dropped out because it got too hard and I just gave up. I saw it as years of my life spent on something that may or may not work out. My dad was helping with the tuition, and when I gave up, he cut off financial support completely. I told her all of this. Every personal detail I wouldn't tell anyone.

I told her about how bad I felt letting my dad down, about how he tried to raise me on his own after my mother died. I guess if I could have anything, it would be the money to go back to school. So what you want is a second chance. You could say that, I admitted. My control returned and found I was breathing a bit heavier than normal. I didn't want to sit here with this woman anymore. I tried to tell her I had a movie date with my girlfriend, and I started to get up from the chair. What I heard next made me sit back down.

You don't have a girlfriend, Mr. Reynolds. I never told her my last name. She was right, though. I didn't have a girlfriend. How did you... I'm going to make you an offer. Mr. Reynolds. I can give you that second chance you want.

What do you mean? I hate to admit it, but I was curious. All you have to do is play your favorite card game again. She says this as she reaches into her handbag and pulls out an odd-looking single deck of cards, the backs of which had a black and gold pattern to match her uniform. The game is blackjack. Rules are the same, except you cannot surrender hands. And you play to ten hands before you cash out.

It will be a game you won't be able to walk away from once we begin. I don't even have money to bet with. It's all right. You have ten chips to start out with. She pulls a handful of solid black poker chips from her handbag and pushes them towards me. All you have to do is come out ahead at the end of ten hands. And I make sure you get your second chance. What happens if I don't come out ahead?

I didn't fully believe what I was hearing, but I just couldn't pull myself away. You will never be able to get another chance again, at anything. She says this as I touched the chips pushed over to me. They were smooth, cold to the touch, and lackluster. As soon as I touch them, the woman smiles again. It has begun. What? I didn't say I wanted to play.

You touch the chips. At the tables, they make you touch chips that aren't originally yours before you use them. You touch them. You play. I noticed my throat was dry and I looked around for the waitress. I hadn't gotten my water yet, and that's when I noticed the waitress was gone. In fact, the only ones in the diner were myself and this woman. I can no longer hear the music playing either.

The air in here had suddenly gone still. I couldn't even hear the noises of the casino coming in from outside. Where is everyone? I was definitely on edge, looking around the room for anyone. The hairs on the back of my neck were standing up as goosebumps appeared on my arms. I stand up and start calling for the waitress. Waitress. You and I are right here.

She giggles at me as if I asked a silly question. Sit down, Mr. Reynolds. We have a game to play. I step outside the diner and back into the casino floor. Nobody was there. Not a single person. No security guard checking IDs at the front. No dealers.

No gamblers. There weren't even any old women putting pennies in slot machines. Some movement caught my attention out of the corner of my eye, but it was only the roulette wheels still spinning, slowing down as the marble clacked into a slot. As I stared around, a beat of sweat rolls down my cheek. Mr. Reynolds. I spin around to see the woman at one of the blackjack tables, standing at the dealer's spot, the black and gold deck in a dispenser.

I never saw her get up from the diner or heard her move. She points at a solitary stool at the opposite end of the table. Sit down. She orders me. I start walking hurriedly to the front doors. I half expected her to start chasing me. I even took glancing looks behind me. She was still standing at the card table, smiling at me as I made my way away from her.

I start speedwalking past rows of slot machines. The machines are dead and lifeless. Then I see her again. The smiling figure between rows of machines. moving in step with me, but always standing there. I can't see her move, but she is right there keeping pace beside me. I go off into a full sprint. I'm zigzagging through the maze of machines.

I start to hear the whirling sounds as one of the slot machines kicks on as their real spin madly. Some spew coins onto the floor like waterfalls as I pass. I turn the corner, trying anything to shake her. My feet catch a pile of coins on the floor and I fall. As soon as I hit the floor, I spin to my back and look up. Nothing is there. Nothing but the machine's kicking on and off. This sensation touches my right ear and brushes my hair.

I spin painfully hard on my tailbone to see her standing over me. This thing resembled her. The outstretched hand was elongated, and her fingernails took on a sinister sharpness. Her jaw was off its hinges and gave way to a wide gait, revealing edge teeth as those green eyes sank into the skull, darkening as they went into a faint glow. I know you want to play with me. I scrambled up, nearly falling again as I took off straight for the exit. A couple of my fingernails bent painfully as I scraped the ground as I got to my feet again. My hands plunged into my jeans, frantically searching for my car keys. I had them out as I

collided with the door release bar. I had a split second to grab the door again as I dropped my car keys, pulling onto it for dear life. When I collided with the door, it did indeed give way to the outside. As to what outside I was peering into, to this day I am not sure of. I was looking at nothing. To say there weren't any cars would assume I was looking at an empty parking lot. Looking at an empty lot would mean I was still looking at a field, background, dirt, with sky over it. I couldn't see any of that. I saw nothing. Nothing but a black voice. giving way to infinity, it was a sickening feeling peering into it, watching my car keys tumbling downward, their jingling swan song fading as I lost sight of them.

Mr. Reynolds. I heard her voice behind me. My head turns back as I see the same horror, now half an inch from my face. I jumped. I could not tell you how far I fell or how long I cried, falling wildly as I screamed my throat I do remember starting to drift off into my own thoughts as I finally was able to shut my eyes. I remembered thinking to myself I would be lucky to finally hit the bottom in my sleep. Sometimes I wish I would have.

Mr. Reynolds. I hear the voice of the woman say sweetly. I open my eyes meekly and the smiling figure of the woman is there behind a card table I find myself sitting at. Her features were normal again, as if the terror behind that sweet face never existed. It's time to play. When you wake up from a nightmare, there is a brief moment of lingering fear. You open your eyes and look around your bedroom. Everything seems to be in the same place as it always was.

The blanket, sheets, and pillows comforting you as the terrible memory of whatever monstrous thing you were dreaming about fades away, until you may be only able to recall one or two key things about the dream. After all of that, you get up and go about your day, or try to fall back asleep and drift into better places. For me, this was not one of those times. A moment ago, I was falling into an infinite void of utter nothingness, praying for an end to it, hoping that at least death could free me from whatever I had stumbled into.

I bring my hands up and place them on the edge of the table, gripping the cushioning. They shook violently, and I squeezed hard to try to get them under control. This sick feeling in the pit of my stomach and labored breathing told her I was afraid. That's when I saw the fingers on my left hand were bleeding. I remembered scratching the floor trying to run away from her. It still hurt, so I eased up my grip on the table. I see I have your attention now, Mr. Reynolds. Place your bet.

She said softly, taking the black deck in hand. With a flawless grace, the woman begins shuffling the cards, her movement captivating. Movements such as these would be practiced, but it all just seemed to flow so naturally to her. Every card seemed to know where it was going as it slid alongside one another, barely making more than a whisper of noise in the hall. The black poker chips had been set out in front of me. I placed my right hand over the stack, and I felt a warm sensation emanating out of them. My hand shook less at the feeling. The warmth traveled up my arm and washed over me.

The sickly feeling I had numbed a bit. What? What's going on? She tilts her head to one side and gives me a curious look as if I had just asked something really obvious. We are playing blackjack. What does it look like? Didn't I already explain that? I could only stare at her blankly.

The memory of her other form was still very fresh in my mind. The vivid image of the teeth, claws, the crang skin, and those eyes faint and glowing deep in her. her skull was still fresh in my mind. She could kill me if she wanted to. What was she waiting for? Like I've already said, this will be a standard game of blackjack with a few rule modifications. You're not allowed to surrender a hand, as you've already seen.

You can't walk away from the table. We played a tin hands or until you are out of chips. And lastly, all you need to do is come out ahead at the end of those ten hands to win. What happens if I lose? She only sighed at the question, and her smile fades. Mr. Reynolds, you will find I don't have much in the way of patience. Her skin began to gray again, her eyes slowly retreating into her skull. I will make you a deal.

For every hand you play, I will answer one question if it makes you feel better. I might have thought about running again, but I didn't know where I would go. For all I knew, the entire building was floating in an endless void. The only option I had was to play. I picked up one of the black chips from the stack. It was heavy, far heavier than a simple chip should be. I set it down on the bedding area, indicated by the white circle in the tablecloth. It plops down as I let it go, hitting the table with an ominous thud that echoes through the empty halls.

The sound reverberating in my chest. Cut it. She says with a cold tone while offering me the freshly shuffled deck. I didn't want to touch it. for fear some horrible thing would begin happening. The hesitation I felt was noticed. Do you really want to leave it to chance? Or is this where you want to have some say in what happens to you?

It sounded like a challenge I was being issued. I outstretched my hand timidly, taking the cards. The deck, like my chips, was smooth, but unlike the chips, these cards irradiated a mixture of feelings. One moment I felt the sensation of comfort, and I had a single, hopeful thought, I may get out of this place and see my apartment again. As soon as I placed the other hand to cut the deck, the sinking despair I was feeling returned with a reinforced sensation. I quickly cut it close to the bottom and put it back on the table. The woman's smile returned to

her face as her skin regained its color, and the eyes protruded to their original place. Gracefully, she deals the cards from the deck in regular blackjack fashion. Two cards were placed in front of me, face up. Two cards she placed in front of herself, one face up and one face down. My cards I observed were a jack and a six. The cards were different than any deck I had seen or played with before. The symbols and numbers appeared to have a grainy texture to them, the colors vibrant. The six card had Roman numerals in the corners instead of a regular six to represent the value. The jack was displayed on the card in a medieval art style. His facial expression was stoic, cold, and disinterested, with a hand on the hilt of a sheath knife.

The art style was an old one, but the cards appeared in excellent condition. The card in front of the woman revealed a three. When I saw that the game we were playing had only one deck, I started to feel a bit better. It would be easy to keep track of which cards were being played. Like a distant memory, the things I learned about strategy and counting practice I had done came back from a far away place in my brain. It was in my favor to stand this hand and hope she would bust. Stand. She flips her face-down card to show a seven. She draws another card from the deck and reveals a five. I noticed her look of drunken contentment returning to her face, the same look she had playing

next to me when I first saw her. Drawing another card from the deck, she calmly places it down to show another three. I had stood on a sixteen. Her hand gave her an eighteen. With that same look on her face, never missing a beat, she easily picks up the black chip, held it between two of her fingers, and I watched as it began to vanish particle by particle into thin air until nothing was left of it. As I watched the chip dissolve, my eyes widened and started to water. This shooting pain coursed through my heart, and I choked on something unseen. I coughed violently and came off my stool, held up by my right hand clinging to the tip

table and my left holding onto my chest. A few moments like this and the coughing fit died down, and I slowly rise to compose myself. One final cough expels a spurt of crimson onto the hand I had been dealt. I continued staring at the blood I stained the cards with as red seeped into them and strangely vanished altogether, never tarnishing the card's mint condition. What happens if you lose, Mr. Reynolds? You die! I look up to see her giggling at me, mocking me. I would have been angry at the mockery if I hadn't been so terrified. My gaze turns to my remaining nine black chips.

It became obvious to me that my life was now tied to those remaining chips. If I was ever going to get out of here, I was going to have to win. I looked back at my hand, and what I saw made me take a step back. The picture of the jack had changed. Now the jack held a knife to his mouth, tongue licking a spot of red. from the tip of the blade, his eyes closed. What are you? I say, after trying to swallow the remaining blood traces in my mouth.

One hand. One question, Mr. Reynolds. She says sweetly while tapping the betting circle. We have at least nine more hands to go. She wipes the table of the cards previously played and collects them in a pile she places to her right. I regain my breath and pick up another of my chips. It was a bit heavier this time than I remember,

but only just. Were the chip's actually gaining weight, or had I gotten weaker after losing the first one? The woman sees me looking at the chip in my hand, and she gives me this look like she seems to know what I was thinking. Thinking of changing the question, you want to ask me? I don't respond, but only put the chip down in the bedding ring in a defiant manner, the deep thought of it echoing once more through the building.

She laughs at my facial expression. Whatever helps you cope with this, Mr. Reynolds? The cards get dealt again with that same graceful style and drunken expression on her face. I almost smiled myself as I saw that my cards this hand were a five and a six, the woman's a seven. Not many ten cards or aces had been played yet, so that told me I had a good chance of getting one. Double down, I tell her as I move another chip to the betting pile. As I placed it down with another deep thud, the muscles in my arm relaxed in relief. These chips were definitely getting heavier.

My decisions seemed to excite her. She giggles at seeing the increased bet. At once she draws another card and places it next to the hand, showing another three. My heart skips a beat. She taps the table and says, Good luck. It was either sympathy or mockery. I didn't care anymore.

I only wanted to see her cards. It was the only thing that mattered anymore. flipping the down card to be yet another three, it made her total to be ten. Almost knowing what the total would be, she draws another card, not missing a beat. The next card was a queen. The image displayed had the queen with her head on top of her interlocked hands, elbows on a surface. The queen's facial expression, again, apathetic as the jack was. Sorry, darling.

The woman cooes, collecting the cards and adding them to the discard pile. Leaning down till her upper half is parallel to the table, she blows gently from her lips to the chips on the bedding ring. As the air billows over them, they disintegrate just as the last one had. The black particles rise and rush past my face. I was in mid-breath as they float over me. Some of it flew in my throat, and again I choked. I clenched my throat and tried to cough. I couldn't get the air through my lungs to clear it.

I could feel my face go red, and I shut my chest. eyes in pain as I felt a blood vessel pop. I slammed down on the floor, dizzy, and suddenly my throat clears. I gasped like the air itself was life. As soon as I feel decent enough, I try standing. My legs nearly buckle again and give way as I scrape my head on the edge of the table. Something wafts downward as I pull my head back away from the table. It was a tuft of hair.

My hair. What am I, Mr. Reynolds? She says flatly as I tip my head. up towards her. I am not entirely sure of myself. I just exist. I have for quite some time. I have a job to perform in this universe, and that job is ensure the wheels of the machine

you call life keep turning. I am the driving force behind what you could say is chance or luck. I gave her a weak, puzzled look. There was no way to be sure I had just heard her correctly. Are you telling me your God? She begins laughing hysterically at me. Oh my, no. I didn't create anything.

I don't have a divine plan. I simply exist to move things around. Keep things happening, moving forward. I don't profess to really understand it myself. I am the money you find on the street, the medication that was labeled incorrectly because both bottles look the same. The iceberg that sank the Titanic. And I was the locked engine in your mother's car the day she died.

There was a silence as she finished that sentence. I didn't want to believe what I was hearing. I didn't want to believe anything that was happening to me. You killed her? I finally said in a hushed, cracked voice. I did not exactly kill her. It is a more accurate thing to say that I facilitated her death. chance, luck, fortune.

These things come into play every day. It comes at everyone constantly, changing seemingly without whim. I am the harbinger of fortune. Your mother's fortune just turned sour that day. I still remember the rush it gave me. The ecstasy of her life force ending. Filling me up. Your life forever changed by bad luck.

I could only stare at her, my mind blank. I felt a slip of sanity as though this woman, this thing in front of me, was responsible for the shaping of all of history of my life. Jake, I don't intend for anything to happen to anyone. I am simply compelled to be where I am at any given moment. I have an innate need to change the flow of occurrences one way or the other. There is no rhyme or reason to what it is I do. I simply must. Invoking chance fills me with a feeling greater than anything you could imagine.

It is an eternal addiction. I cannot switch off even if I wanted to. I do what I do simply because that is how things are for me. I do not have a choice. When she says this, I could almost swear I felt a note of sadness to it. Did she pity herself? It was a thought I couldn't begin to understand. Am I losing my mind?

Am I losing my mind and my life bit by bit as she feels sorry for herself? Why me? Why are you doing this to me? I think I thoroughly answered your last question. Time to live up to your end of the bargain and play another hand. Her smile comes back. No. I say it was the only thing I could think of, the one little bit of power I had over her.

She needed me to make a call or she couldn't deal. If I die here, I wanted to know why. Look at you, pretending to be brave. I know for a fact this is not the kind of man you are, Mr. Reynolds. The Mr. Reynolds I know would rather let the world decide what to do with him, rather than take a stand. You don't know a damn thing about me. I raised my voice.

She was right, though. I wasn't brave. But maybe I didn't care anymore. After everything I had seen, the fall, that monstrous self of hers, feeling my own life slip away piece by piece as I lost hands in a game of blackjack. You dropped out of school because it required more effort than you were willing to put forth. At your senior prom, you didn't show up because you couldn't get a date. The reason you were dateless was that you didn't want to risk rejection in asking a girl out. None of them asked you out.

In elementary school, you always got pushed to the back of the lunch line by a bully. You thought risking getting the smaller piece of dessert cake was worth not pushing back or getting a teacher. I know exactly who you are. Her voice became booming and terrible as she talked. I even heard the building support beams move and crack as the lighting dimmed. Then I saw something as I hurriedly looked around the hall, a black spot at the very top of the white marble-colored ceiling, bits of the surrounding structure flying upward through the hole.

Little by little, the spot grew bigger. The woman saw me staring at the unnerving sight. Only her laughter broke my gaze. I can't make you finish what we've started, but I can give you incentive. She smiled almost politely. I quickly pick up another chip. I almost need both hands this time to move it. The blood is pounding in my ears so hard that I don't hear the thud this time.

The cards go out once more. I see I have been given a three and a five. The woman's down-faced card was an eight. I stare at the three hard. I may not have been in the best state of mind, but I could swear I had already seen four threes played. I looked up at the woman, and she only nods at me, confirming what I was thinking. By now, I shouldn't have expected anything.

For all I knew, this deck changed at a moment's notice every hand we played. It meant most of my strategy was meaningless. I mean, the game could even be rigged for all I knew. Maybe, just maybe it all came down to luck. If that was how we were playing, then I did not see how anything I did really mattered. I felt dead already. To this day, I couldn't tell you what possessed me to do this, but I lifted another chip over the betting area, not caring about how heavy it was to move. Double down.

Now we're really playing. She swiftly deals me a card. I take in a breath. I didn't even know I stopped breathing. as I see the ace displayed on the card. The woman looks at it too. I can't be sure if there was the smallest moment of pause from her. Then, still smiling, still with that expression of intoxication, she flips her face-down

card to reveal a king. You finally want a hand. She says as she gives me a soft, golf-style clap of her hands. I hear a click as my pile of chips move a little. Two more black chips have appeared on my pile. warm sensation washes over me, diluting the pain and weakness that only a moment ago I had been suffering. I still did not feel quite right, but then again I was still down by one chip. The thought this game was stacked against me, that I was doomed from the beginning may not be true.

The woman tilts her head to the side as she taps the table, clearing her throat. Excuse me, Mr. Reynolds, but we have seven more hands to be played. Also, you're on a deadline. She points upward. I look back up at the ceiling to see much of it had faded away into the blackness that was slowly replacing it. The void had almost reached the walls of the second tier in the grand hall. This game is far from over. Whatever small hope I felt from winning the last hand now escaped me. I placed my right hand over my remaining chips.

Their warmness licks my flesh like a candle flame, the only light in an unending nightmare. Have you ever wondered what you would do if you'd do if you'd, You had the luxury of knowing when you were going to die. Some people say they would not want to know the time of their death. The idea behind that is that these people could continue on in blissful ignorance and live without a looming fear over them that a clock is ever ticking onward. The problem with this is not knowing when you die does nothing to prevent the actual event. Some people say they would like to know when they are going to die because it, in a way, frees

them. It allows them to live without fear of their own demise, until that one fateful day, of course. At this moment, I have neither of those luxuries. With every flip of every card, every bet I place in this horrid game, I held my life in my hands, and I could feel it slipping further and further away from me. There was a rattle to my breath. My clothes were covered in hair that had withered from my scalp, and I was having trouble keeping myself upright in the stool I sat in.

At least one of my hands had to stay on the table at all times to help keep the balance. I had by now quit trying to wipe away the dark crimson to drip from my nose and nostrils. A couple hands ago, the woman began to dissolve the very casino hall around us in order to force me to keep playing. What started as a pinprick in the very high center of the high ceiling had eaten its way through the second floor and had started its approach on the walls of the ground floor we were on. The blackness crept onwards, slowly making its way to us.

As the walls came down, the endless nothing of the other side became more and more apparent. Before the cards went out, I fell into that void trying to escape the woman in all her monstrous terror. She had a habit of turning into another form when I tried resisting anything she set in motion. She stares at me, drunk and hungrily, as I pushed two more chips to the bedding area one at a time. There was no way by now I could pick up the chisel. ships, they had become too heavy with the weight of my life, and I too weak to adequately hold

them. Again, with the dancer's grace, the cards are dealt once more. Mr. Reynolds, you seem to have gone quiet, feeling down. I gave her whatever defiant look I could muster. Play the damn game. I weased in a hush voice. I only say this because you stopped asking me questions. Remember the little arrangement? we had. Truth be told, I still wanted to know why this was happening to me. As she dealt cards, I saw for this hand I was holding a soft 18 with an ace and a seven. The woman showed a nine. You want to know why all of this is happening to you. It must feel like you are the unluckiest person

on earth. You could also look at it the other way. If you win, that is. I promised you a second chance to make your life better. The means to go back to school. It, I tell her. Without missing a beat, she gives me another card. A king. Stand. She flips her own card to show an eight, making her total 17. My balance returned somewhat as the blood flow stopped from my nose. I heard a clack as two chips returned to my pile. I pulled one of the two in front of me back to the pile with a refreshed strength. Seems you've gotten the hang of this rather quickly. Good for you, Mr. Reynolds. It is not surprised. though. You have been doing this your whole life. What do you mean? I say, finding it a bit easier to speak.

You've spent the majority of your short time on this mud ball of a planet allowing your life to be lived for you. Every time you gave up your right to control an aspect of your life, be it school, standing up for yourself, or making your own decisions about what you want to do with your life. You gave control to chance. You gave your life to me. I never wanted any of that. I see the walls have now been eaten away completely by the encroaching dark. Deal the hand. My, aren't we touchy now?

You may not have wanted things to turn out like they are, Mr. Reynolds. But they did. She dispenses cards as if they floated on some unfelt breeze. A six and a seven land in front of me. Her face-up card was a ten. I know why you choose to give up the direction of your life to fortune. It was easier, Mr. Reynolds, and you were so afraid. I do not understand fear, Mr. Reynolds, as it is something I cannot feel.

A few moments ago, you were squirming like a worm under the hot sun. Even as you are behind in this game now, you seem more focused. Is it because you have accepted what has become of you? Or do you finally understand the importance of choosing to actually be involved in your own life? Play the hand and I will answer your question. Hit me. I almost smile at her, but there was too much at stake for me to feel that bold. She throws me a card, quickly and flatly, absent of her graceful motion I had become accustomed

to. It was a jack. I had busted. The chips dissolve as my head begins to pound and the red leak in my nose begins again. I had gotten too used to this by now to let it slow me down. I'm still afraid. I don't want to die. There isn't really a choice here for me anymore.

I either die or I go on now. It's more of an acceptance. It is the same acceptance you have had since your mother died, that your life can be over in an instant. That was the day you lost the motivation to decide for yourself what to do with the time given to you. She then turned that familiar shade of gray as her voice came at me from all sides. In her sunken green eyes, I saw a loathing older than anything I had ever known or will.

ever know. I am eternal. I will never die, and yet the most important power in existence was given to such a pathetic creature as you, and denied to me the power to decide where to take your life. You threw that away as if it were meaningless. That, Mr. Reynolds, is why I am here. I offered you the choice to throw your life at chance again or walk away. and make something of yourself on your own.

You let me in. That is what your acceptance has given you. Only a small platform of the once large hall remained. It continued slowly fading away as I stared at the pile of chips that remained. In order to win, I needed to come out ahead with at least 11 chips. All in, I say. And at once the pile moves itself to the betting circle for one last time. It seemed as though time was slowing down to a crawl.

I felt every pounding heartbeat and the very blood flow through my veins like tiny rivers, glazed with what adrenaline I had left. I could hear the micro-fractures of the remaining floor beneath me crack and fall into the abyss around me. The woman mouthed something to me that I don't pay attention to. I couldn't even hear over the pumping blood flow from my ears. There was a strange vibration coming from the table that was in synchronization, with my own heartbeat. Before the cards came out, I had a thought that it may have been the chips themselves, a reflection of my own life. Cards flow to the table once more. My card is sent out

to me, a queen. Her face-down card is placed on the table. Suddenly I feel myself begin to fall and I cling to the table. The floor around my stool had given away, and the void lay waiting beneath me, silent and patient. I think I scream as I just try to hang on, already weak from losing too many hands before. I don't even hear myself shout. The pounding is too loud. A third card is played. An ace.

For one moment, I forget about the strain of keeping myself clung to a table that may have only moments itself before it too falls away. I stare at the ace as if it's the most beautiful thing in the world. and at that moment it was. I look up at the woman, wanting to smile. The only thing that greeted me was her own smile, slightly sinister. She was pointing down at her own cards. I looked over to see she had just placed her own face-up card, an ace of her own.

Even if I could hear her, I wouldn't need to be told what would happen if her down card was a ten. I closed my eyes in disbelief. I am pulled away from the table. my legs no longer having anything to kick and scrape against to stay up. When my eyes open, I find myself being held, hovering about the table. An elongated claw-like arm holding my midsection as another snakes its way back and forth across my neck, leaving small scratches even though the tip of the point was literally grazing my skin.

Something wet caresses my left ear and out of the corner of my vision, I see the monstrous gray face of the woman, mouth wide. open. Turn it over. She whispers. I outstretched my right arm. Every muscle fiber is already like tight piano wire. It creaks with every inch I push it forward. As my own hand closed in on the down face card, her claw took up position beneath my right ear. My fingertips touched the card, her own pressed in painfully to my skin, waiting for the call to tear my throat apart. I shut my eyes hard and cry out as the card is overturned. I hear a woman's voice call out to me, and I felt a hand on my shoulder.

It was the waitress asking me if I was okay, standing over me with a concerned look. My head turns to the front. I was back in the diner. The walls were intact, and there were people around again. In fact, they were staring at me like I was a madman. I still felt something in my hand. A playing card, a seven, with a black back to it, feeling grainy in my hand, with Roman numerals on the front to signify the value.

A breath forces its way through my throat and makes a sound similar to a cough. An ocean of relief welled up inside my core, and as it made its way to my head, the coughing increased with frequency and my eyes watered. It was like the memory of how to laugh had faded away and was slowly returning. The waitress took a couple of steps back and began quietly talking to another server. I didn't care how I must have seemed to the other people. I lost myself in tears as the coughing reformed itself into more recognizable laughter one breath at a time. When I got myself under control again and wiped the hot tears from my face, I found the card in my hand was gone.

I stumbled to my feet and sped away to the restroom. In the bathroom mirror, I saw that my hair had returned, my face unblooded. There was a floating feeling in me, like anything that had ever troubled me was now. far away. That feeling continued to stay with me as I left the casino, past the bouncers that were made aware of the scene I made at the diner. I laughed as they looked at me. They were two seconds away from getting a hold of me, but I strolled past them toward the doors. The night air was cool with a mild breeze. The stars above me were brilliant and wonderful to me. Everything was. Even the trash and the gutter of the parking lot. My free feeling dropped a bit

when I got to my car to realize I did not have my keys. The vivid image of watching them tumble into the unknown returned to my mind. Things like losing my keys used to upset me like it would anyone. It didn't seem all that important to me anymore. I took out my cell phone and called my roommate to bring me a spare set I kept at our apartment. He seemed pissed at me when he showed up, but puzzled at how I was just sitting by my car, staring up at the night sky, still enjoying the air. I decided to surprise my father with a visit early the next morning to tell him how sorry I was,

and that I planned to try to put myself through college to get it right this time. It was his day off, so I knew he would be at his house. I pulled in to see his truck parked in the driveway. That floating feeling, that renewed sense of my own life stayed with me, even as I slept the night before and woke this morning. It stayed with me as I rang the doorbell and waited to see my dad. I didn't even care he wasn't coming to the door soon enough. I tried calling his phone.

No answer. I go inside anyway. Dad, you on the toilet or something? I call out. No answer. The cloud nine feeling began to ebb away. I looked around the living room. Nothing.

Something does catch my eye, though. A familiar object on the key ring holder nailed to the wall by the door. It was my car keys. the same ones I lost in that nightmarish place that only last night I somehow escaped from. Dad! I began screaming and rushing through the house. Nobody was in the bedroom or the bathroom. As I entered the dining room, I saw my father with his back to me, sitting in a chair

looking like he was about to eat something. Dad! I called out again. He didn't even move, let alone answer me. I moved closer and shake him. His body was cold and the normal stomach. softness of another being was absent. That's when I saw it. The lifeless look in his eyes. I kept shaking him, not knowing anything else to do and screaming as I continue on. His body

falls out of the chair but maintains its position. Rigamortus, he must have been dead since last night. A giggling noise comes from behind me. I spin around sharply to see the woman standing not five feet from me. Hello, Mr. Reynolds. She smiles and I scream once. more as I'd back away. I didn't realize how quickly I had moved till I was surprised by the feeling of the wall slamming against me. Is that any way to greet a friend? She says whimsically, still with that drunken smile. Why? Why did you do this? Me? I did not kill him. Your father had a heart attack last night. You see, as it turns out, your father's doctor failed to diagnose a genetic heart condition your father had. He went unmedicated for some time.

His death was just very unfortunate. His death was just very unfortunate. She laughs madly. No more words were coming to my mouth. I just sat and cried, hopeless. I was supposed to have a second chance to make things right not only with me but with him. I had beat her at her game,

but she couldn't let me win, it seemed. I've won. You said you would give me a second chance. You did. And I have. As luck would have it, you are the sole benefactor on your father's will. He was a high-end attorney, wasn't he? Lots of money there.

Things to sell off or keep for yourself to help you do as you please. You could go back to school with it if you wished. It does not matter to me. Our business for now is done. I never wanted it to turn out like this. My dad didn't deserve this. I didn't deserve his money. I couldn't move.

I started to wish she had just. killed me. The only thing that snapped me back into the moment was the woman, her form changing once more. Jake, get up. Call the police. Take the money and move on with your life. You had your second chance to come back from all of this. Not many are so lucky to get that chance. She smiles a wide, toothy smile. Or don't. It would be fun to play with you again. I will be watching. Just like that, she She was gone too, vanishing before my eyes. An hour had passed as I sat there on the hardwood floor of the dining room, gazing at my father's corpse.

I spent that hour mulling it over in my head. In the end, I came to the conclusion that my father would want me to keep going on, to follow through with the new goals I had set for myself. I did call the police. I did take the money. I went back to school, but this time to be an EMT. The job felt right for me somehow, helping people and just felt like something I needed to do, giving a second chance where I could.

It was hard going sometimes, but it no longer bothered me. The memory stayed with me, the visions of my dead father, the memories of my mother, and the card game that changed my life forever kept me going through the hard times. I got a job with the local fire department, even got married and had a kid. My little girl is five years old now. I love hearing her voice greet me when I get home. Life isn't all good, though. I don't think it ever is completely for anyone.

I still feel the woman sometimes watching me. I hear her laughter at odd occasions. Like my car wreck a few weeks back, I heard her voice over the radio. Every time I meet someone with green eyes, I can feel the back of my hair being gently brushed. He's never there when I turn around. I can keep going on with my life and say it's a good one, though, because I finally have a hold over it. I can roll with whatever fate and fortune want to throw at me.

Never again will I give up my power to decide what I do with myself. A smile of my very own comes to my face as I turn the door knob to my house after a day at work. I stop at the doorway and start taking off my boots, expecting the sound of my daughter happily calling to me as I walk in. The first noise I do hear is a scattered, rolling clacking coming from my dining room. Sweetie, I'm home. Hi, Daddy.

Come and meet my new friend. We're playing a game. Say hi to my daddy. I hear my daughter say. Hello, Mr. Reynolds. I freeze, not even finishing taking my second boot off. My ability to think goes out the window as I rushed to the dining room. There she was.

The woman in the expensive black dealer uniform. She was sitting at the table across from my daughter, smiling up at me like an old friend. Daddy, say hi to Miss Fortune. My daughter says as she takes a handful of dice on the table and rolls them. The clacking sound of the dice echoes through the still room.