He had a sense of burning when I was in his presence. Him and his fellow acquaintances. I sat at the round table, put in my cash, and was given chips. They seem burnt like being caught in a fire for a long time. As we made are first set of bets, the three cards were drawn. I peeked at my two cards, and felt very exhilarated. Testing my luck, raised my bet. The men grinned as they followed suit, meeting the demands of my bet. The leading man then raised the bey even more. I contemplated, and did something I was sure to regret. I went all in.
The final stage was here. All the other men folded, so it was just between me and the dark figure of a man. I revealed my hand. Three kings. That was a good hand. Even he was impressed. That is, until he revealed his own hand. Three aces. I was stunned. No way I could’ve been beaten like that. No way at all. Then again, he is impossible to beat. No one has, no one will.
Shaking Hands With the Devil
|huge Edgar Allan Poe fan. mostly do black and white photos. single. novice filmmaker. love books about either detectives or spies. write poetry and short stories.|