The Game

Words 332

Somewhere in the decaying building a door slammed shut, moments later a waft of icy air swept into the room. A solitary candle threatened to extinguish before its yellow flame steadied once more. A figure of a man sat alone at the end of a long wooden table, which like its occupant, showed its age and scars. He idly shuffled a pack of playing cards as he awaited his guest. The door swung open, and a much younger man stood and surveyed the scene. He paused until his eyes adjusted to the semi darkness before making a move.

The seated man looked up from his cards and took a sip of wine from a brass goblet before speaking. “Ah, you couldn’t resist?” His visitor gave a shrug before removing his long black coat which he dropped carelessly on to the stone floor. He still hadn’t spoken. An observer might guess these two characters had a past relationship, and an uneasy one it seemed. The atmosphere was tense, as if they were participants in a sporting event and were poised for the starter’s gun. The old man’s gravelly voice spoke softly. “The stakes are higher than you think.” He gestured with his hand to the high backed chair opposite. As he did so, the ornate ring on his finger caught the light of the candle and of the eye of his visitor.

The stranger took a seat at the table. It was as if, in the action of sitting, he was agreeing to an invisible contract. “I’ve heard the stories,” he said, his eyes on the playing cards fanned out on the table. “I’m not afraid.”

“That’s what they all say.” The old man nodded and smiled, showing his yellowed teeth.

Without another word from either player the game began. Both knew, without the need for words, that it was a game to the death. Only one would leave the room and would take with them the power held within the ring.

Written for

FORUM

Chapter One   (18+) Write the first chapter of a book, inspired by the prompt. #2251577 by Cubby