He's Just Rolled A Six, Bastard

That bastard butcher has just rolled a six.  I can see it in his eyes; he thinks he can defeat me.  Well this game isn't over yet.  We both have a lot riding on these roles and I'm sure as fuck not losing.  Not again.  I can't suffer another loss.  One more failure could be the end of me.  There is nothing left for me in this world now except glorious victory or an approaching union with darkness.  My life hangs in the balance and that wonky eyed opponent of mine is on a winning streak.

I should have been more careful.  I should have listened to those around me but I'm addicted.  I fell for it before I had chance to muster resistance and I'm glad.  Even the strong willed are puppets to be overpowered by a desire for exhilaration.  That hit of adrenaline as the cube sputters across the surface is like nothing I've ever felt.  The risk involved is unprecedented in our circles but I'm hooked on danger and that fear of a fatal ending just draws me deeper into this seedy soul killing game.

That is just what it is, a game.  But at this time and in this place we have taken it to another plane.  Created life from the inanimate that will mean sorrow for myself or that freak of nature who interrupts my eye line.  This gentlemen's game we play, oblivious to the aging effects of time and its counterparts that will make legend reality.

I role.  Safe.  I pray, gesticulate all manner of praise and thanks to a god who only seconds before was ready to condemn me.  He takes his turn.  Nonchalantly roles away his fate.  Things are slow now.  The echoes of wood on wood become our reality.  I stare at each bounce, intently wondering where my opponent's fate will fall while he casually diverts his gaze upon the floor and window unable to witness the result existence has bestowed upon him.  There is no more rolling.  Silence.

YES!  Ewan's off to snake town.  Whoooooooo.  What's that?  You've just lost sixty-three spaces.  Boo Hoo!  That twenty pence is almost mine.

Ewan tells me it's just a game, but I can see the disillusionment in his eyes as he slowly winds his counter down that path of retribution and failure. The sadness is quickly enveloping his being, crushing what little spark of life there once was. I sigh and take in the scene.  What are we but insignificant pawns in hell's creation?  Wondering fools taken in by our own desire for feeling.

It is my turn now.  What if I get a one?  The embarrassment, the laughing, mocking of a lost hope.  Even a three could do me in.  I'm so close but still have so many trials ahead of me.  I release the die but the outcome is lost to memory and will forever be a footnote in this thing we call time.






Whose off to snake land now bitch?  How many lost spaces is that? One, two, three, four, five, six...