[Falsum]

Short Story of the Month #1
(SSOTM #1)

This Months Genre: FANTASY
This Months Theme: FREE-STYLE

Length: Between 750-5000 words. Don't worry too much about this, this is more or less flexible. If you have trouble fitting in the guidelines, just tell me and I can change the size to another acceptable amount.

Ripping: Please, don't take someone elses work. An original Short Story is what we are looking for. If we catch you ripping, you will be disqualified, and everyone will only pity you.

Fan Fiction: FanFics are considered short stories as well, so as long as they stay within the word limit, go ahead and post em.

Entries must be in by: JUNE 30TH, 12:00AM(Midnight) CENTRAL TIME

Voting: will be from July 1st to Midnight Central Time July 5th, to allow people time to read the entries, and vote on who they like, as well as to start at the same time next month, July 6th.

Rewards:
1. Some sort of medal, or sig, don't worry we have a month to decide.
2. Your story entered into a SSOTM Hall of Fame, for all to read
3. The ability to choose next months theme. I would ask that this be keep simple. The genre, however, is on a set rotation.

Please go to this thread --> [Only registered and activated users can see links. ] to discuss things. No discussion here please.
Drop me or Duratrix a private message if you have any questions.

Good Luck! Hah hah...

[giascle]

once upon a time jim wanted to get a sword and he said "iwill get the sword" to his friend jim2 but jim2 said "no the sword is bad" and jim said ok. so jim wented to get the sword anyway because he was the mastre of tricks and jim2 was dumb. when jim foun dthe sword it said I AM A DEMON I WILL GRNT YOUR WISH IF YOU FREE ME and jim said NO I DONT TRUST YUO!! then the demon ate jim and jim2 laughed. TO BE CONTINED????

[Duratrix]

I'm gonna write a story in a while...
I'll edit it in this post once it's done.

Now lets see what am I gonna write. xD

Edit: seems I'm not entering this one after all.

[Mobius 1]

Well, Here I go.

------------------------------

EPILOGUE

When a Man is comes to life, they are given the Soul of Man.

When an Angel comes to life, they are given a pair of Wings, the Blessing of the Gods, and the Soul of an Angel. Indeed, this is what makes them an Angel in the first place.


Of course, while they are not given lightly, these are all Gifts. The Angel simply has a few more of them.

And Gifts can be given, or they can be kept to oneself. In most cases, they are kept, because they were indeed gifts to those who received them. Of course, that does not mean that they then lose the ability to be given to others.

There was, at one time, a Virtuous Seraph of sorts. In life, he made it a goal for himself to make the world around him a better place, which is ultimately what earned him the title of Virtuous Seraph. Now, if we choose to describe it as such, Seraphim are essentially a higher-ranking class of Angel, thrice-blessed by the Gods and bearing six wings. Indeed, it is an honor to bear the title and the position, and few would give either up for anything.

And yet, this Virtuous Seraph gave all three away. His Blessing, his Wings, and his Soul, all no longer in his care, nor his possession.

He is certain that many wonder why he would. He rather enjoyed his work as The Virtuous Seraph, and he took great pride in what he gave himself the responsibility to do. Even so, without any hesitation, he gave all three of the Gifts given to him to someone who had only the Gift of the Soul. For one-hundred days, he watched the one to whom he gave his Gifts, and for one-hundred days, the person flew with the Angels.

Alas, no one flies forever.

When it did become necessary for both the Virtuous Seraph and the one to whom he now shared his Gifts to descend, the Virtuous Seraph would very much have liked to take off once again, with that same individual by his side, but it became more and more evident that he had indeed -given- his Gifts, and that they were no longer his to hold.

And the Virtuous Seraph did grieve for the loss of his gifts. Without Wings, he would never fly again, no matter how the feeling of flight was indeed a part of him. Without the Blessing of the Gods, he would never again be able to look upon the Heavens in all their beauty, no matter how he desired to escape from the twisted world of Man. And without the Soul of an Angel, he was himself no more than a Man. A man cursed with the memory of the feeling of flight, the image of the Heavens, and an emptiness left when missing part of the Soul.

Even so, he bid the one to whom he had given his Gifts to use them themselves. The Gifts were now theirs to use, and the Man who had once been The Virtuous Seraph trusted the individual to use the gifts he had given them in the same way that The Virtuous Seraph had once used them: to fly; to lay eyes upon the Heavens; and to be blessed by the Gods. And indeed, the Man who had been The Virtuous Seraph stood in the place where he had descended, never again to fly of his own volition nor with his own ability, never again to lay eyes on the Heavens, and his way in life never again to be blessed by the Gods.

But as he stood on the feet he wasn't completely accustomed to using yet, he watched his Gifts move on with the individual to whom he had given them, and for all his grief, he was happy. He had given someone the ability to fly with Angels for one-hundred days, and for those one-hundred days, the individual was happier than they had ever been, and they would be ever grateful to the Man who had given them the Gifts he once had.

And so, the individual would move forward with these Gifts, and the Man who had once been The Virtuous Seraph would indeed move forward as well, after once again becoming familiar with the sensation of the ground under his feet.



Indeed, this is the story of a Man.....

[Falsum]

Well, here is my entry. there will be two posts, so... hah hah 1965 words, just do you know hah hah

PART ONE:

########################
Untitled
By: Falsum
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The soldiers ground to a halt.

They had been trying to cross the river for days now, but the river was too wide, and the whole
river was controlled by powerful rapids. The soldiers were relieved to find a bridge, probably
the only one on the whole river.

The captain took a couple steps foward.

"Who are you? Get off the bridge, the royal Dreta Empire needs it!" The captain drew his sword,
and quickly pointed it toward the knight on the bridge. The Dreta empire is the most powerful
empire in the world. It was only a small City-State 20 years ago, but they quickly rose to power
and have begun conquering everything in their path.

"Move! Damn it!" he shouted again.

The Dreta troops looked towards the knight on the bridge. Fear and awe overtook them all. Even the
captain, who was shouting furiously, let the anger subside as he observed the figure on the bridge.

The knight wore a set of heavy armor, that covered his hole body. It had no weaknesses, no exposed
skin. The armor was jet black from age and blood that stained the entire suit, it was riddled with
scratches and cuts from years past, and the helm was cast in the shape of a demon, two great horns
coming from the foward leered out from the helm's forehead, slightly angled up. A ragged and
worn cape hung from the knight's shoulders, just as black as the armor, and reaching only the
knight's waist, it's slight swaying from the gentle wind was the only thing moving on the bridge.

The knight, stood immobile and soundlessly. His hands resting on a great black sword that was stuck
in the ground point first. The hilt of the great sword reached to the heart of the knight, and the
sword too was covered in war scars, proof of it's great life, and of the owner's experience.

"Y...You!" The captain pointed to a soldier close to him, and stuttered out orders. "I...It's
p-p-probably just a statue! Yea! So go check it out!" The unlucky soldier surprised by the sudden
nomination, and scared by the knight, slowly crept towards the knight who was as black as death.

Still, the knight stood motionless. Still, the soldier crept closer. As he got close to the knight,
the soldier saw on the bridge, a visible line drawn straight across the middle of the bridge.
The point of the knight's sword rested on this same line. When the soldier reached across this
line to touch the armor, the knight sprung to life. Immediately, and as quick as a flash, the
swung the huge sword from where it was and cut off the arm that had passed the line. Not stopping
the sword's fluid motion, the knight brought it down past the soldier, and swung back, slicing the
soldier clean in half...



The last of the slaver's dropped dead. Bringing the sword back down to him, the young man sat
amongst the bodies on the remnants of the cage he has known for the past couple of years.He was
just a slave, but now he was free. Still trapped by his pain, he gave a hoarse, tone-less cry to
the heavens.He was a young man of about 19. Tall, tanned skin, dark hair messy from neglect, and
round eyes, which were as black as death.

A few years earlier, this young man's village was raided by slavers.
The whole village in flames, the young man was the last free soul of the village. Surrounded,
his back to the burning chief's hut, a savage look in his eyes, and a bloody sword in hand, the
young man roared like a caged beast, and wildly swung his sword at the slavers. Fueled only
by anger, his energy long gone, the young man chopped down any slaver who got too close. Soon, the
butt of a spear shot threw the burning hut, and knocked the young man on the back of the head.
With one more cry of anguish and rage, the young man dropped to the ground, uncouncious, and the
leader of the slavers stepped out of the burning hut, and violently kicked the young man in the ribs.

"Take this one prisoner. Make him suffer for killing our men," The leader angrily hissed.

The young man was more than the slavers could handle, however. Violently attacking the cage he was
kept in, and trying to attack anyone that got near the cage. At night, the young man let loose
from his throat a savage howl, filled with the anguish of losing his village and family, the pain
of captivity, and his great anger for his lot in life. In an attempt to break the man, the slaver's
cut his tongue off. Without an outlet for his emotions, all the man's pain, anguish, and anger
instead channeled into his body, fueling him, till one night these emotions pushed him over the
edge.

He broke the bonds on his hands with his raw strength, and lowering his shoulder, he repeatedly
pummeled the cage until it gave out. The first slaver to reach the cage in an attempt to investigate
the noise, was torn apart by the young man's hands, his throat savagely gored by the man's teeth.
Grabbing the sword, he began to once again wildly cut down all the slavers. This time, however,
when he met the slaver's leader, he cut him down right on the spot.

As he was sitting on the remnants of his cage, a group of soldiers from the nearby city approached
the dark, blood stained young man. The captain, seeing the carnage, called his soldiers to a halt
and stepped forth.

"Did you do this?" The captain asked. "Who are you? We are soldiers from the country of Tirfi. My
name is Cassandra." Tirfi was a small country surrounded on all sides by great empires. It had only
held onto it's country through sheer bravery and courage, boldly fighting off all requests for
surrender, whether they were peaceful or less than peaceful attempts.

The young man turned his head to look at the captain. His face filled with sadness, his black eyes
glimmered in the moonlight.

"Did you do this?" Cassandra asked again. The young man nodded.

"Who are you?" Cassandra asked once again. The young man stood motionless and silent for awhile.
Then, he took his sword and scratched in the dried blood the name. Avhis. Staring at his unused
name for awhile, Avhis took a deep breath through his nose, and turned back to look at Cassandra.

After a short pause, Cassandra asked one more question.

"...Can you speak?" Cassandra ask tenatively. Avhis simply opened his mouth, and pointed at it
with his sword. Empty. No tongue. Cassandra gravely nodded her head.

"Well lets go Avhis, let's get you to town." Cassandra held out his hand to help Avhis stand up.
Avhis tooks a good look at Cassandra. Cassandra wasn't much older then he was. A little shorter,
with a long face, pale skin, toned muscles, blonde hair, and bright round blue eyes. To Avhis,
she seemed like an angel. A beautiful face, long curly blonde hair that gently rolled down to
her shoulders, serene eyes, and illuminated with the full moon at her back. Silently, Avhis
grabbed her hand, and stood up.



The soldier dropped to the ground dead. After waiting a minute, the knight resumed his original
stance, with his hands resting on his sword. Every single soldier from the Dreta empire was shocked
into terror. The captain of the proud Dreta Empire was quite literally shaking in his boots.

Gathering his resolve, he channeled his fear into anger.

"That's IT!" The captain shouted. Once more, he pointed his sword at the knight. "Everyone!
CHARGE!! TAKE THIS BRIDGE!!" The soldiers, emboldened by their numbers, and by their captain's
anger, grabbed their spears and swords and all rushed on the bridge at once. The gap between the
knight and the soldiers was closing.

[Falsum]

PART TWO:

3 years after his escape from the slaver, Avhis had become a great soldier in the Tirfi army
alongside Cassandra. Despite his inability to talk, the two had become close friends, and Avhis
began to fall in love with the angel who dragged him from the depths of his pain. With a silent
personality, and a silent mouth, Avhis was content to just be near her, protecting her. At this
time however, the Filtia Empire, one of the great empires surrounding Tirfi, had annexed the
other surrounding empires. The Filtia Empire alone surrounded Tirfi on all sides, and it was
not content with the little blight in the middle of it's empire. The Tirfi army, including
Avhis and Cassandra, began getting ready to move out once more to defend their borders.

Avhis donned his brand new suit of armor, a thick, complete suit of armor. It had no weaknesses,
no exposed skin. It was pure white, except for the bright red, almost pink, chest-plate. The
grand silk cape was just as innocently white, gently flowing down to a couple inches above the
ground. A great new silver sword was also awarded Avhis, placing the tip in the ground, the top
of the golden hilt reached to Avhis' heart.

Avhis' and Cassandra's unit won many victories, with great valor they routed army after army,
pushing the Filtia invasion force further and further back. Soon, they reached the
great river that divided the Filtia and Tirfi borders. With Avhis and Cassandra in the front,
they fought the Filtia Army to a dead stand-still on the middle of the bridge. Neither side gained
or lost ground. The sides pulled back after a couple long, bloody hours of fighting. Only Avhis
remained standing on the bridge through the night. Right where he was before, the dead center
of the bridge. In his blood stained armor, he cut a line into the bridge, and rested the tip
of his sword on that line. He then rested his hands on the top of his sword, which reached to his
heart. Cassandra, came up behind him to talk to him.

"You hold them off here, we are going to go join the other army on the main counter-offensive
on the Filtia Capital." She spoke softly. "I'm counting on you to hold them off. I'll be back
for you, so please don't die, I promise i'll be back."

She placed her right hand on the back of Avhis's armor.

"I love you..." she added softly. Cassandra turned around and started walking back to the camp.
Reaching the end of the bridge, she stopped and turned looked at Avhis. Avhis turned around
and locked eyes with Cassandra through his great helm. He nodded a solemn nod, a nod that carried
with it a promise to wait, the affirmation of his orders, and the words "I love you".
Cassandra nodded back in response, and smiled with a great grin.

"We'll beat those Filtians in no time! Just you wait! Hah hah... i'll be back in no time!" For the
first time in along time, Avhis smiled. He turned back towards the Filtian side of the bridge, and
resumed his vigil.

Days passed, then weeks, then months, then years. Tirfi had fallen, and the Filtian Empire was
likewise eaten by the Dreta war machine. Avhis however, remained his vigil. Waiting for the
time that Cassandra would fulfill her promise. Silently, he defended the bridge, not allowing
anyone from the former Filtian side to cross.



The bridge was covered in bodies. The sides were overflowing with blood, and the river was stained
red. Not a single Dretan soldier passed the line. The Black Knight, Avhis, resumed his vigil,
his hands resting on his sword, which reached to his lonely, forgotten heart...

~Fin


Alright. There's my short story, so yall who said you would write a story, and those who are interested, lets get those stories up hah hah

[schwann]

This competition seems dead, but I already wrote it, so whatever.

Notes:The original draft was much longer until I realized it exceeded 8000 words. Personally, I liked that one better. In order to chop it down to scale, I had to delete a couple of minor scenes, and replace a big scene with something much shorter.

This story is about 3400-3500 words, which is about 6 and a half pages single spaced in MS Word. There's a lot of dialogue, so it isn't a full 6 and a half pages, but if you have the attention span of a goldfish, you have been warned.

But anyways, here it is:

Title: A Gambler's Law

By: alias Schwann, © 2009. (Yes, I made a physical copyright of this; I do this for anything I show to the public.)

----------------------------------------------------

The city of Old Eve was rotten to its concrete bones. It was the sort of place where you didn’t look too closely in the garbage bins unless you wanted to find the decomposing remains of some poor fool who had run through his luck. Murder happened on a whim, and the women were as likely to greet you with a smile as a bullet. It was a place where those who had abandoned all pretenses at human decency came to scrape a living from their next victim’s blood.

Jack Landers strode through the dark streets, enjoying the night. It had been a year to this very day since he had left Old Eve. When he left, he had vowed never to return, but the outside world had been too simple, too law-abiding, too boring, and now he found himself back. The putrid odors and depraved sights filled him with nostalgia; the rubbish rotting in the gutters and the stains of blood, puke and semen on the walls, barely visible in the polluted light, gave him a serene sense of certainty. A hooker was smoking dope and taking a piss on the sidewalk. The sights never failed to impress.

Living in Old Eve had been a rough ride, Jack had to admit. But the thrills and pleasures this degenerate city offered could be had nowhere else. Here a man could make a fortune at the card tables, enough to live like a king. It could also mean an early grave. That was what crooned to Jack. He savored risk like a sommelier savored wine, and Jack Landers was nothing if not a gambler.

Not even pausing at the sight of a hand sticking out of a pile of rubbish, Jack rounded a corner and found the place he had been looking for, exactly as he remembered it. Above the dark mouth of a lowered staircase, a blue neon sign flickered in self-deprecating irony: Heaven’s Grace. The last time this bar had seen the grace of heaven was when Saint Peter opened the Pearly Gates to let his dog take a shit. Even among the scum of the earth, only the lowest bottom-feeders frequented this pisshole. Lowly thugs and small-time crooks were this establishment’s most common clientele. They were all dangerous, but in a more honest way compared to the true professionals and crime bosses of Old Eve. These people would only shoot you behind your back.

Jack walked down the stairway and threw open the door. Dozens of eyes swung in his direction, and a second later, a dozen hands lowered from concealed weapons. Soft murmurs picked up again.
Oily smoke hung toxic in the air, and greasy yellow light coming from the few lamps along the wall gave the place an appropriate darkness. There were many shadowy niches here and there, suited for customer needs. Bullet holes riddled the walls. The owners had long since stopped caring about the décor, and their clients never had.

Jack took his own sweet time scanning the customers. Careless or confident men didn’t live long in places like Heaven’s Grace. Most of the customers were men, with a few temptresses here and there, pure as poison and beautiful as lust. Jack recognized one of them, a voluptuous red-head named Scarlet. She had been here five years ago, the first time Jack stepped into this cesspit.

She spotted Jack and glided over to him, hips swaying, making sure to stick out her long milky legs. She had a head of thick fire, flawless emerald eyes, and full, parted lips that looked on the verge of a pout. In a white, skin tight dress that emphasized the important parts, she was a damn fine sight, whatever else she was. The smoky smile she gave him promised everything, and Jack smiled back, but even he wouldn’t gamble on her.

“It’s been a long time Jack,” Scarlet lightly laid her fingertips on his arm. “We’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed this place too,” said Jack, doffing his hat.

“Because of me?”

“Life isn’t as much fun when you’re not around,” Jack admitted, proffering her an arm.

Hand in arm, they strode deeper into the gloom, Loki and Lilith, dimensions apart, but seeking shared pleasures. They found an empty table and sat down.

“So what are you doing back in these parts Jack? I heard Shark Silverton put a price on your head.”

“That’s cleared up now. We made a bet.”

“And you won?”

“I always do in the end, baby.”

Scarlet gave him one of her special smiles that she gave to every man that had something she wanted. She pulled a cigarette out of her cleavage and offered it to Jack.

He declined.

“I quit.”

“Jack,” Scarlet exclaimed. “I haven’t seen you in a while and you’ve already lost your bad habits. The next thing I know you’re going to be a fine and upright gentleman!”

“That’ll never happen with you around. You’ll keep corrupting me,” Jack winked at her. He offered her a light.

Scarlet gave a throaty chuckle, rich and sultry. She lit up and took a long draw.

“You’re in town on business?”

“To see you baby,” Jack lied.

“I’m delighted to hear that. But there are some strange rumors going around, how you’ve made bets the size Louisa’s ass.”

Louisa was only two tables away, and heard. She glared in their direction but Scarlet simply stared back, her smile never wavering. After a while Louisa looked away.

“Every bet is like that,” Jack grinned. “You just have to be good at winning.”

Scarlet still looked amused, but there was now a hint of inquisitiveness to her gaze. His smile must not have been convincing enough.

“Come now Jack, how long have we known each other?” Scarlet waited, but Jack didn’t answer. “I know everything that goes on in this town, from killings to the last whore that spread her legs for the mayor. You know that even if you won, Shark isn’t going to just let you walk loose. You must know. That means you have some sort of plan.”

“Shark won’t trouble me no more,” Jack said airily. “Besides, wealth or death, they’re both about as certain until the next sunrise.”

“Always the philosopher,” Scarlet studied him through lazy long-lashed eyes, her cigarette forgotten. “You never were quite the same as the rest of us. You feel like you can flirt with dirt like us and then dart out when you feel like it. Leave us hanging.”

“That hurts baby.”

[schwann]

“You change,” said Scarlet, pouting temptingly. “It’s what I love about you. It’s what I hate about you. You’re always changing, but you never change into something like us.”

“Tricks, Scarlet. That’s all they are. Tricks and being lucky.”

“No Jack. You always were a true mystery. That’s what makes you such a juicy bit.” Scarlet leaned forward so her lips were at his ear, her hand in a delightful place. In a husky voice she whispered, “Want to meet later tonight?”

“I couldn’t afford you.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“It’s not what I meant either.”

They stared into one another’s eyes for a long moment. Someone in the gloom called out to Scarlet, and she straightened, tossing her head in a fiery wave.

“Think about it Jack.” She laid a hand on his shoulder. “Talk to me if you need to.”

And she walked away like a forgotten flower.

The truth was Jack was taking an awfully large risk coming back to Old Eve. Shark Silverton was hardly the only boss whose toes Jack had stepped on; there were still Fingers, Tubba Bubba and Half Dick Dingo. Jack tried not to think about what Half Dick Dingo would do to him if he was caught; but the risk was what made it fun. He was here for a chance that he could not get anywhere else. Four times he’d won, and each time swore it would be the last. But Jack just could not let it go; he could not let go of winning, beating the odds. It would catch up to him one day, he knew, but he was like a druggie looking for his fix. Even now, as Jack told himself tonight would be the last time, the beat of his life seemed to pick up, faster, and harder, making his blood sing.

Jack needed to calm down. His hand went automatically to the coat pocket where he kept smokes, only there was nothing there. He needed a drink.

Jack went to the bar and greeted the bartender.

“Hey Sam.”

“Jack!” Sam the bartender said. He never stopped wiping the glass. “What’ll you have?”

“Gin martini with a rind of lemon. No olives.”

“Coming right up.”

Jack debated wagering Sam for the martini, but the fact that Sam was still alive after all these years in a bar like Heaven’s Grace meant he had uncommon luck; and Jack would need all of his luck tonight. Besides, a friendly bartender was always useful, and losers were never happy with you, no matter how honest the gamble was.

The bell over the door tinkled, and on instinct a dozen hands went to weapons. A second later, the sound of low talk picked up again, only this time there was a different buzz to it.

Jack looked over at the newcomer and frowned. A young woman stood in the doorway. If she was more than a couple months over eighteen, Jack would bed Scarlet. Her dress was blue and revealing; she had sleek blonde hair, large doll-like eyes, and a straight, dainty nose. There was none of that predatory study in her gaze that the other women had; she was more like a deer caught in headlights.

“Your martini Jack.”

“Thanks Sam.”

Jack paid the bartender, adding a healthy tip. He continued his open observation of the newcomer. He wasn’t the only one. Several men were eyeballing her. Some of the women appeared to be sizing her up, a few contemptuous sneers played around their lips. They all looked like disbelieving wolves who had just seen a lamb wander willingly into their midst.

“Say Sam, who’s the broad that just walked in?”

Sam glanced over at the girl as if he’d just noticed her. Jack wasn’t fooled. Sam didn’t miss a trick.

“Don’t know, never seen her before,” Sam said shrugging. “Good looking girl, but she looks ready to piss her pants to me.”

Jack had to agree. This was a wolves den, where lions and vipers happened to share. If you were uncertain about entering a place like Heaven’s Grace, then you weren’t ready for a place like Heaven’s Grace.

Well, whatever she was doing here had nothing to do with Jack Landers and his business. He took the gin martini and went back to his table. He had just seated himself comfortably when he noticed she was making a straight beeline for him.

“Oh damn,” Jack muttered under his breath. This was the last thing he needed.

She stepped right in front of him and asked in a too loud voice, “May I have a seat?”

What could he do? Jack gestured towards the empty chair Scarlet had sat in. Its previous occupant was watching them from across the room, no longer smiling. When a woman watched you like that, you took care not to turn your back on her.

The lamb didn’t notice a thing, of course. She sat down, and gave him a tentative, tremulous smile. It was nothing like Scarlet’s smile—a smile that belonged with silken sheets, velvet pillows and absolutely nothing else—it was a too honest smile, too obviously unpracticed. Her sky blue eyes told the whole story: She was frightened, but trying to act tough. Jack wanted to sigh.

“How may I help you?”

“Oh, you know, I was wondering if you were interested in a companion for the night.” She tried to brighten her smile, revealing perfectly white teeth.

Jack winced. She talked too loudly, too direct. No subtlety. Half the men in the room now knew she was available. How did she happen to find her way into Heaven’s Grace, of all places? Her being alive tomorrow would be a miracle worthy of Jesus.

Jack leaned forward and said in a hurried whisper, “Listen little lady. I don’t know where you’re from or who you are, but this isn’t the way things are done around here.”

Her smile faltered, finally. She tried to bluster her way out.

“I was just offering to you first,” she said, obviously flustered. “If you don’t want to, I’m sure I can find someone else….”

“Someone else won’t wait for you to offer,” Jack hissed. “They’ll come and have their way with you, and if you’re lucky, you might be alive tomorrow.”

Her mouth shaped into an almost comical “o”. The lamb finally realized she was with wolves. She lowered her voice.

“Sorry, it’s just…I didn’t know…Cou—Could you please help me?” Her last words were a whispered plea.

[schwann]

She was trembling. For a minute Jack considered simply cutting her loose. She wasn’t his problem. But blue eyes tugged at him, bloody gallant fool that he was. Well there was more than one way to gamble.

Jack barely moved his lips. “Follow my lead.” Then more loudly he said, “So Shark Silverton sent you?”

“Wha—?”

“I asked if Shark sent you!” Jack thundered.

The girl sat up straight. She didn’t understand, but to Jack’s relief she didn’t lose her head.

“Yes,” she said clearly. “Yes he did.”

At this, most of the room drew away, claws retracting. Jack let out a sigh of relief. Shark Silverton was notorious for thinking up “inventive” ways to kill a man. No one crossed Shark except for daring gamblers or incredible fools, like Jack. Jack had heard that acid was Shark’s new favorite. So long as people thought this lamb was connected to Shark, she should be safe, at least for the moment.

The change in atmosphere was perceptible, even to this lamb, and she said quietly, “Thank you. My….”

Everything stopped. Sam stood at the bar with a mixer in mid-shake; Scarlet was on a man’s lap, the special smile carved on her face; lazy smoke curled solidly in the air from half a dozen cigarettes. Time had frozen to ice.

The door clicked shut, but the bell didn’t tinkle.

Jack pounded a fist on the table.

“About bloody time Vlade!”

In entered a man in an expensive black suit looking thoroughly forgettable. Vlade was as out of place as the girl was, only in his case, he seemed to emanate blandness. He wasn’t very tall and had black, neatly combed hair with mild dark eyes. Nothing about him stood out. Vlade could strip naked in a church, and probably no one would remember his skinny white ass by the end of service. Vlade was one of those people whose appearance you couldn’t remember, but would recognize the instant you saw it again. It was because of Vlade that Jack was back here at all, risking his life; it was because of Vlade that he hadn’t kicked it four years ago in some dumpster.

“Hello Mr. Landers,” said Vlade. He pulled over a chair and sat down at Jack’s table. He glanced at the girl, who might as well have been a mannequin with stunning blue eyes. “Your new girlfriend?”

“Like hell,” Jack snapped. “Just met her tonight. And by next morning she’ll be dead, or worse. Nothing to do with me!”

Vlade didn’t comment. He pulled an envelope out of his pocket, and drew a blank card out of the envelope.

“The usual conditions. You win the bet. You get one wish. You lose the bet. I take you to Hell.”

“Yeah, right. What’s the gumball this time Vlade?”

Vlade held up a silver coin.

Jack raised an eyebrow.

“You’re kidding. After the crap I went through last time?”

Vlade shrugged. “Heads or tails?”

“One second. Let me see that.”

Vlade handed over the coin to Jack who inspected it to make sure it wasn’t doubled-faced or weighted to one side. Not that Jack expected it would be. Every bet he’d made with Vlade had been as clean as any wager could be. Still, Jack Landers might be a fool for pretty eyes, but only those who deserved early graves let themselves be suckered in when it mattered.

The coin was a silver American Eagle. Round, perfect, and legit.

“I should remind you that you are free to walk away,” said Vlade, as if the whole affair were of no importance to him. You’d have thought he was simply bored, only too polite to show it.

Jack grunted in acknowledgment.

That was the trick to gambling…walking away while you were ahead. Jack could walk away, but where was the fun in that? And where else could he get a deal like this?. Ah hell, Jack thought, all men die in the end, and I’m going to Hell either way.

“I call tails.”

Vlade nodded.

“Mind if I do the honors?”

“Please,” Vlade acquiesced politely.

A rush of ecstasy surged through Jack’s veins. This was when he truly lived—Jack Landers, the gambler, and everything, everything on the line.

Jack tossed the coin—the golden strings of Fate tug at every spin, knotting around his soul, sure as steel—it could have been a second, or eternity could have mooned her ass for all he knew. Would he win? Was tonight the night? Jack could taste victory, and smell defeat. They were two sides of the same coin.

The silver Eagle came down. Reality snapped in as Jack slapped the coin on the back of his hand. The clear ring of silver still quivered in the air.

Jack looked over at Vlade. He removed his hand.

It was tails.

Not a hint of disappointment showed on Vlade’s face. Jack felt his heart hammering as though it were running on pure crack.

“Congratulations on another win, Mr. Landers. Your record is quite impressive. That makes it five years running. I don’t believe I’ve ever had another client last this long before.”

Jack didn’t answer immediately. He leaned back, taking in the moment. He had walked the line again…and had survived. Nothing compared to that moment of truth. Drugs or sex didn’t come close.

“I’m lucky, but you’re bound to win sooner or later,” said Jack, feeling the sweat on his palms. “You’re the house.”

“Indeed,” Vlade began scribbling on the card. “However, you can always walk away.”

Jack barked a rough laugh. Exhilaration made his voice ragged.

“Have you ever met another man who could?”

“There’s always a first,” Vlade said smoothly. He pushed the card across the table with his fingertips and laid down the pen. “Your winnings, Mr. Landers. What will you wish for this time?”

Jack picked up the pen and set the nib against the card.

And he stopped.

He had decided on his wish well in advance. This was supposed to be the last time. Jack Landers was a gambler, but he had come out on top far more than he had a right to. He wanted out. He had promised himself that this was the last time. He was walking away. He…

…he looked into a pair of frozen eyes, like blue crystals. They held no hope…and so much fear.

Ah crap.

Jack wrote it down, the wish he’d won by betting his soul, and thrust the card back across the table.

“I’m keeping the pen.”

Vlade read the card impassively.

“You are certain about this?”

“Dead sure,” said Jack.

“Fascinating,” said Vlade, stuffing the card back into the black envelope, “that you sacrifice your wish for a girl.”

“She doesn’t belong here,” growled Jack. “Even if she survives, she’ll just become another whore. If she’s lucky, she’ll become something like Scarlet. If she isn’t lucky….”

Jack shrugged. There was no need to say it.

Vlade tucked the envelope back into his pocket; he cocked an eyebrow at Jack.

“How touching. I didn’t think you cared.”

Jack opened his mouth to say that he didn’t care, but then shut it with a click of teeth. He cared. Bloody blue eyes.

“A gambler’s law, my friend,” said Jack. “A gambler’s highest freaking law.”

“Oh?”

“Everything in life’s a gamble.” Jack polished off his martini and got to his feet. “If that’s the case, it might as well be about a pretty woman.”

And he left Vlade sitting there. Before the sun batted its eyelashes at the rotten city, Jack Landers could no longer be found in Old Eve.

[x-Azurerain-x]

Hmmm......Well, i can't be arsed to write anything on as large a scale as the previous entries so i'll just go for something suitably short and sweet. Oh and vague too, so i won't have to rack my brains to conjure up some pathetic backstory.
Anyway, 25 minutes work, kinda crappy but meh.

Escape The Past

My eyes were wide as I gazed wistfully at the wall strewn with shadows. Tears streaked down my cheeks as I thought about what I was in danger of doing. I stared at myself in the slewed mirror. Memories lingered like the pale fragrance of blossoming lillies. I couldn't see you by my side. You bought me roses; red roses. Red was my colour. 'Was'....such a sad word.White is my colour now.

Blinking away my tears, i studied the beauty of my dress, a silky fusion of delicately crafted embroidery and lace. The pearl necklace around my throat glistened palely in the seraphic light. Tear-dropped earrings brushed my face tenderly. I imagined the cake, icy white, garnered with pasty red roses. It was sweet...,sweet and cold...a similarity then.The pitch of my memories towered before me like the tiers of the cake; tiers,tiers,tiers....

Oh! How i shed so many bitter tears when you left me alone...all alone.Everyone was a stranger to me. I was a stranger to myself. You were still confined within me. All my grief, my misery, my vengeful desire...arose solely because of you. Your smile, your infinite kisses, your love, our love; All was lost. "I do" were the words we exchanged. How could i have ever thought i could escape my memories, buried deep in the recesses of my sorrowed heart, as deeply perhaps as your grave.

I was walking down the aisle for the second time.Music was playing, just like before. "Here comes the bride, here she comes!" My feet kept in time but my heart echoed an altogether different melody. It got fainter as i approaced the altar.Your ghostly figure fell in step beside me, you smiled...a smile of acceptance, a smile of reassurance.

A voice lashed out, reverberating a piercing chord against my heartstrings; " Do you take this woman to be your lawful wedded wife?"
"I do".
"Do you take this man to be your lawful wedded husband?" A buzzing silence ensued.I felt the world had come to a stand still, to bear witness.., nay, judgement upon my every breath, my every word. I glanced down at the white lillies, weaving a dainty pattern around my legs. I remembered only the roses however...lush crimson beings of verity. I shivered violently in relief as my lips formed the only word that could set me free; "No".This was my escape, my escape from something I could never go through again. Yes its true, I still love you.

Too melodramatic?
i suppose so.