A Card Of Games – Microfiction Short Story

 A Card Of Games 

Marcus tugs at his hair as his brow furrows and sweat begins to form on his top lip. “S-S-So you’re saying no matter what I do, everything will always end up with the same outcome? No matter how I play the game, no matter how I deal with him, I’ll always lose?” he spits with trembling lips while he chews his fingernails away leaving bloody stumps in his wake.

Patrick leans back in his seat brandishing a grin that oozes self satisfaction. “The cards never lie, and neither do I.”

“S-S-So what do I do?”

Patrick raises an eyebrow with sarcastic flair and slaps a card face down onto the table.  “You can either pick up the card, or you can get up and walk away, knowing that you’ll always end up in the same place you are always destined to.”

“U-Unless I pick that up,” he says nodding towards the card.

“Precisely,”

Marcus looks down at the card nervously, then back up at Patrick “I-I-It’s not s-something worse?”

Patrick laughs loudly “I can’t tell you unless you turn the card over, because right now it’s just a blank piece of paper waiting for you to touch it, waiting for you to imprint your path upon its fibres. Do you dare to trip the light fantastic, or are you happy knowing that every version you could ever be, will end up bowing to him?”

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