It’s a game of chance. Spin the wheel; let it go, and wherever it lands… well, that’s your fate. Few win, most lose. The odds aren’t good, everyone is doomed to fail. But still they flock to this game, ready to try their hand. They heed no warnings; they’re deafened by the screams of the ones who’ve lost.
I’ve tried to steer clear of this game, but I guess everyone is destined to play. The pull was strong, like a magnet. I couldn’t resist, no matter how hard I tried. The crowds pushed their way up, pulling me along. I tried to run, but it’s hard to go against the flow. I was pushed and shoved to this point, and I haven’t had any time to prepare. But there’s no time now, it’s far too late.
I stand, frozen by something, listening to the instructions for this deadly game. It’s a gamble; you never know what the out come is going to be. If you win, it could be big or small… and if you lose, you always lose big. You get one chance, that’s it. And whatever happens happens. No negotiations, no refunds, and most of all, no turning back once you get to this point.
From afar it seems so innocent, almost like a child’s game. But up close it’s easy to see that this is anything but innocent. The game master’s eyes burn, looking through your soul, insulting you without ever saying a word. It’s that stare that dares you to reach out your hand, to spin the wheel. Like some crotchety old man who no one could ever please, but there’s something in his eyes… you’d do anything to make it go away, including signing your own death certificate.
I want to look away, try to break this spell that his eyes are weaving. But I feel like I have ice water running through my veins, freezing any movement. All I can do is wait. Wait, hope and pray. Pray that this goes my way, and that I walk out of here today, no matter how scarred, wiser than when I went in.
Another fails before me, and I feel my heart pounding painfully in my chest. The line moves, as security drags the forever marked loser away. I come one step closer to my fate, whatever it may end up being. My mind spins, the excited mummers of the people behind me blurring. They have no idea what they’re walking into...
The line moves again, and I gasp. One more step to go, and my heart is getting colder by the second. I didn’t even hear the last victim scream. The thought brings searing tears to my eyes, in stark contrast to my skin. The fever is getting worse, yet I can’t stop the shiver that runs down my spine as the line moves again… it’s my turn to step up.
I’m frozen in fear, not wanting to move, but my feet move of their own accord, as if controlled by someone else. The master reaches out his weathered hand, holding it out to take mine. I stare in fear as he comes closer; unable to brace myself for the touch I know is coming. His hand is cold, but I can feel my flesh burning, almost like I touched my hand to a pile of dry ice. His eyes that taunted from afar are so cold and lifeless up close.
He pulls me to the platform, the wheel sitting in the center. The colors flash as the wheel turns, tempting its unassuming victims to its side. The prizes very, from life to love to money, each with the small print beneath it, stating the price for this 'win' of a lifetime.
I try to turn, try to scream, anything to warn these naïve people of the danger they’re willingly walking into. The master smiles and it’s as cold and terrifying as everything else about him. He gives me a gentle shove forward, so I’m standing in front of the wheel I was trying so hard to avoid.
My breath catches in my throat as I see the losses listed on the wheel… death being the one to capture my eye. My tears fall as my hand reaches out to grasp the wheel, oddly soothing my burning flesh. I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and spin the wheel firmly.
"Around and round it goes. Where it stops, nobody knows…"
~ Cassandra ~
Comments (5)
Brilliant my angel, brilliant!
=)
Brilliant indeed.
Another "wow!" Okay, now I'm a fan. I've got to go to bed... but I just have to read "just one more"... just to see if it's as good as the one before. Kinda' like spinning the wheel, and where it stops no one knows.
I don't know who you are or what you are (nurse, student, etc.), and I'm not trying to flatter you for some kind of online relationship (there are predators and players in cyber-land, don'cha know)... but you should sign up at Edit Red. I was going to say we should keep commenting to each other, but your stuff is really really good. Edit Red is a community of writers that critique each other. It's also harsh and definitely NOT for the feint of heart. But you meet a lot of other writers there (if you're not already there). I'm Shadowdancer there (I use Xanga mostly to blog, philosophy, stoopid stuff, sp error on purpose 'cause I'm stoopid). The place is www.editred.com. Originally it was developed by two guys. Both wrote books, but without the editing prowess of each other they'd NEVER have gotten it published. So it's for writers to strengthen their craft, full of poets and short stories.
C-ya!!
You and the way you wrote the story.
=)
well written and very descriptive.=)
can tell you put time into it.
*huggles*
i need to find time to put some of my own stuff down. ive been doing alot of song lyrics and other short snippits of things heard etc...
unfortunatlly most of my inspirational writting i come up with is in the early morning when im on my way to work in the car and i don't have a pen or paper with me.=(
No problem, Cassandra. Even if you decide not to join the online community of writers, I'm sure you will be published. Have you heard of Saadia here at Xanga? She published a book of poetry, and I think she's absolutely FANTASTIC!!! Some of her poems are better than others, but not one of her poems that I've read has EVER been bad. There used to be another poet here at Xanga who was excellent who went by Fireside_Memories... but he's so busy building a race car he's not active anymore (but he has some EXCELLENT poems if you trace back, and one in particular is about sitting on the beach before the ocean). The reason I mentioned these two people is simple: you're stuff is very mature, excellent and sophisticated. And while I'm not an expert concerning poetry, when something moves me I'm pretty sure its of high quality and is excellent.
Tally ho!!