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~Rolling the Dice~ I sat across the table from the frail man with the hard eyes. The table was full of splinters. My eyes scanned the back room of the ruined tavern, searching for any threats. Outside, the sea raged. Waves crashed against the thin wooden walls. I'd been looking for this man for the better part of two months. My mother had disappeared suddenly, and she wasn't the type to just leave without notice. She was an incredible gambler, but she kept herself to herself. Above all, she was adamant: she didn't want me to follow in her footsteps. And yet, here I was. I'd roamed the countryside, the towns, the cities, searching for any information on where my mother could've gone. All I had were the lucky dice she left behind -- and she would never have left these by choice -- and my wits. I gambled for information... and, miraculously, I won more than I lost. You could call it beginner's luck, but I knew the truth. It was the dice. I treasured them. I treasured *her*. That long road led me to this man: the most notorious gambler in this corner of the world. I knew he knew something. And I knew it wasn't going to come easy. Two dice sat before him on the table. Though his body trembled with palsy, his hands were perfectly still. His stare went through me. "I know what you want," he croaked. I tossed my dice nervously from hand to hand. "One game," I said. "You win, you never see me again. I win, you tell me where my mother is." He smiled to himself... but his eyes never left my dice. "That's fine, that's fine. But not with those." With a speed that belied his age, he reached across the table and pried my hand open. His grip was icy and cold. Before I knew it, my lucky dice were in his claws -- and then he threw open the door and chucked them into the sea. The color drained from my face. I felt my soul leave my body. Those dice were all I had of my mother, and now they were gone, too. He seemed to delight in my horror. I couldn't even speak. I needed those dice to win! I was no gambler. I was -- I was just me. A desperate daughter in search of her only meaningful connection in this life. The frail man rolled his dice to me. They skated across the rickety table. They sounded louder than the sea. Than my pounding heart. I held the dice in my hand, and the sea held my heart. My head spun as time compressed. What would my mother do? I thought back to all the times as a child when I'd watch her handily beat any given's town best gamblers. It dawned on me: my mother would win. And she would win with skill and grace and ease. She didn't need those dice. And I didn't need them either. They brought me to this point, but the rest was up to me. I was her daughter, after all. I set my jaw and met the man's rheumy eyes. I rolled the dice in my hand, gaining speed, gaining momentum. I set them free with a whisper: "I'll make my own luck now." - Vyvyan | |