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Chapter 22: The House of Cards

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"Another game, Mr. Hale?" The man asked as Tyler gasped for breath, taking in air so deep it hurt his lungs. "Mr. Hale?" he chimed again. Tyler's vision returned to him, the bright colors fading it from the dark. 

As he tried to gather himself, the sounds bombarded him. He heard steady streams of rings and whirls, blaring tones from slot machines. He noticed the green felt on the table before him, the smooth hands of the dealer. Did he say something?

Tyler felt himself straighten up in the chair, scanning the poker table and playing with the chips in his hand, but he had no intention of doing these things. His body was not his own. He felt a sudden panic, as if locked away in his mind while another controlled his every action. He tried to put the chips down. He tried to speak. The casino shook slightly, sending a trail of drywall dust down onto the poker table from the high ceiling above. The harder he tried, the more violently the building shook.

"Careful," the dealer said, "This is a fragile place. Don't bring it all crashing down. You won’t get another chance." 

Tyler tried to move again and the building trembled. The dealer looked up and scanned the cracks that formed across the ceiling before shaking his head. Tyler felt lost, frustrated. He only wanted to ask a question, but seemed to endanger himself and the dealer with every attempt. He wanted to understand, picturing performing such a simple action perfectly and-

"What is this?" Tyler mused in wonder.

"Ah," the dealer grinned, "There you go. Your in our dream, Mr. Hale. Another game?" Tyler imagined himself nodding, imagined himself giving a look of confusion, and each action occurred immediately, "Your dream?" Tyler asked, picturing the action clearly.

"Not literally. Poor choice of words. Our muse is a better term," he explained, picking up the deck, "Welcome to the house of cards, Mr. Hale." The dealer shuffled the cards in his hands, cutting and riffling with grace and speed.

A woman sauntered over, dressed in a golden gown. She walked around the table, her eyes fixed on Tyler, "I'll take this one," she whispered, patting the dealer on the back. The man backed up, made it clear that he hid nothing in his hands or sleeves, and walked away as the woman took his place.

She picked up the cards, and the way she moved them as she cut the cards made it impossible to follow. She stopped, smiled at Tyler's look of wonder, then drew a card: the king of hearts. She placed the card back on top, and began working the cards again.

"Who are you?" Tyler asked, and she cocked an eyebrow as she cut the deck repeatedly.

"The one who saved your life,” she replied. “You’ll find me a valuable friend. Lucky You.”

Tyler shook his head, "I don't believe in luck."

"No one asked you to," she said, giving the cards a final cut, and drawing the king of hearts, "some people believe the earth is flat. The facts are irrelevant to them too."

"That's not luck," Tyler said, pointing to the king in her hand, "you knew where the card was the entire time. Luck is a trick." Her eyes narrowed, and she slammed the king back on top of the deck. \

She made several cuts, then riffled the deck. She then took the cards neatly in her hand, closed her eyes, and hurled the deck into the air above her. As the cards scattered, she opened her eyes, keeping them fixed on Tyler’s as she reached out and plucked one from the air in a swift motion. The cards fell onto the table and floor, some drifting up to 15 feet away, but the king of hearts held firmly in her hand.

"I am not a trick." She growled as the building trembled around them, breaking apart into piles of rubble. She tossed the king to the side. “My name is Isla Walker. You've had a rough go, Mr. Hale, but fortune favors the bold.”

“I didn't have much to do with it.” Tyler replied.

“You say that, but you'd be surprised.” Isla said.

“Why am I here?” Tyler asked after a long pause.

“I have no idea," she replied, a smiling growing as she shook her head, “That's why I'm the one sitting here. A boy who doesn't even believe in luck drops in my backyard unannounced.”

“Not by choice, I didn't mean to-”

“Do you subscribe to chaos, Mr. Hale?” she said, snapping her finger. The cards blew up in a gust of nonexistent wind and settled in a deck on the table, “Life is a game of Russian Roulette and the universe doesn't play it fair. Chaos makes it possible to win. You say it can't be done. The house always wins, right? Chaos lets me play the game of life on my terms.” She paused, tapped the green felt on the table, and the cards scattered about began to drift and roll, neatly assembling the deck. “It's a cheat; a "Lifehack" that opens so many possibilities.” She handed Tyler the deck of cards and smiled, “Give it a shot. Let us dance with the devil's daughter, thee and me." Tyler began to shuffle and cut the cards, “Let us flirt with chaos. Only then will you know what it's like to have a chance at her bed. She, the patron saint of ne'er-do-wells. To cast your lot with her is to play the game of life with marked decks and loaded dice.”

Tyler drew the top card from the deck: The Queen of Spades. The woman nodded, and he slid the card in the deck. He shuffled many times, and did so again at her request.

“Now, take the top card. With a bit of luck-” she paused as Tyler drew the queen of spades from the deck. “How?” Tyler asked.

She gave him a saucy wink, “You’re welcome.” 

“You rigged it?” he asked and received a nod in reply.

“It's all rigged. Always has been,” She leaned forward to whisper, “You’ll never get the prestige. You’re dead, you know, that right?”
The words made him uncomfortable, but he couldn't help but nod, “I’m starting to feel that way, yes.”
“That’s part of the game,” she continued, “rigged, but if you’d like, you can always play at my table. I imagine you to be quite the dancing partner.”
He looked around, stood up, and shook his head, “Not sure it matters if I’m dead.”
Before he walked away, he caught the sign posted to the wall that read, always tip your dealer. The same was posted all over the casino. He smiled.
He turned and pushed the entire stack of chips forward, “I guess I won't need it.” When he turned to walk away, she laughed.
"My name's Isla." She stepped forward, tucked the queen of spades in his shirt pocket, and put her hand on his chest, “I'll be seeing you.”
The building shook again and Tyler felt the pain as the building collapsed, felt the weight on top of him, but as soon as the pain hit, he opened his eyes to Morrigan’s apartment, Morrigan weeping over him.

 

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Nov 4, 2020 02:45 by Jacob Billings

Ooh. This is super interesting. First of all, you lose some of your formattings at the end. Beyond that, I like the somewhat abstract form of this chapter with undefined action. I am curious as to what will happen with Tyler and the Prestige. As expected, he's been "resurrected" but it's unclear if he'll continue to learn about Candlelight and the Prestige; both because I'd like to see him learn it and it's a good tool to explain your system to the reader.   Sorry. I feel like the quality of my comments are experiencing a downward trend. But, on the other hand, this could be a sign that your writing has fewer problems to note. Excited to keep up with your publication.

Nov 4, 2020 05:12 by R. Dylon Elder

Not at all, man. A lot of this is also a quote from an article where I've gone over it a hundred times. Not much more to edit now, I believe. Now the next chapter is where the i really hope the horror begins. We shall see. Thanks so much!