A Game Of Chance – Short Story

“Savage does the beasts heart beat, but sorrowful is the echoes of its soul crying out for forgiveness. For you see children even though the beast is a vile killer of man, there lies more beneath its scared flesh. When the dawn first dropped and the beast was cursed it was not a beast, but a kind-hearted man. The man had fallen under the evil glare of a fascist dictator who was never denied what he wished for until the day he tried to take the man’s wife. He challenged the dictators request, then beat him with two fist. The dictator has never felt anger this way before for it was powered by shame and self ridicule. So he concocted a plan so ruthless and vile, to get his revenge on the kind-hearted man. He rode to the hills and found an old hag, he paid her in blood, he paid her in sex, he paid her with child for the magic he had requested. She gave him a flagon of her very best wine, and told him to give it to the kind-hearted man. The dictator flew back to his city on the wings of adrenaline, and forced his way in to the home of the man. He thrust the flagon at him, and told him to drink, but the man was not stupid, the man was not weak. The dictator screamed for forgiveness, he screamed for a chance to make things right and all the man had to do was take a drink. So the man made him a deal, a game of card would they play, and the loose would drink from the ox skin flagon. The dictator was a fool, easily swayed and took the man’s challenge for the game to be played. The cards were dealt and the hand was played and the loser, was how the beast was made. So the moral is my dear boy, don’t challenge for what you can’t have,” the old man says as he take a drag of cigarette.
“Can I ask a question?”
“Of course.”
“You said at the beginning that the beast wasn’t always a vile killer, yet the dictator seemed a nasty man.”
“I never says the dictator lost, you just assumed so.”

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