The original story of Episode 16: A Game of Cards was submitted to us from a listener named Sketchy_Fishy_. You can read their version here!! If you'd like to hear our audio adapted version, you can find it here!!
Additional Info/Prologue:
(In an older shipment, a leather journal was retrieved from the bottom of the box. It had quite a few entries and even some drawings. A worn down pencil can still be found in the book, though the tip was snapped. Perhaps this person didn’t get to finish what they wanted to write? Along with this journal is a deck of cards. The deck looks old, perhaps from the era of the wild west, though they aren’t to be something of value as there are many scribbles across each card. The symbols are jumbled, some being words or names, and other being dates and countdowns. On the decaying cigar box in which these cards call home, a name was carved on the bottom. The name has faded drastically along with the memories of the individual, but the viewer can decipher A.M. Though all the pages are still intact, we are only concerning ourselves with the very last entry.)
Story:
I think fate is a form of gambling.
It’s an odd concept, the idea that the unknown future has already been determined for you, like how each card gets revealed to you in a round of Texas Hold’em. With your own two cards, you have to determine what you are going to do to succeed, though that deck of cards is taunting you. It knows what will be shown, but it wants to see if you can play the game correctly.
I think it’s a decent analogy, though the one thing I find quite intriguing is what your cards would be. What are you using to play this hypothetical game of fate? What I have learned is this, the two things almost every person has to carry is the instinct of survival, and your morality. Survival and morality, those cards are the only things you have to help you navigate this anxiety inducing dance of death. I have seen so many take a seat at life’s table and fold in their cards time and time again. Why, you might be wondering. Why would so many put down their cards so quickly? Simple, because they couldn’t choose which one they were going to lean into. Which one was going to be the leader, and which was the sorry sap that had to follow.
Let’s look at that game again, Texas Hold’em. Let’s say you have a queen, and a four. The dealer lays out your first cards: Another four, a king, and a ten. Your hand is looking good, but there’s one problem. Which card do you wanna put your bets on? A four and a queen could work together, but would it this time? Now with the queen, you could go for a straight, maybe a royal flush if you're lucky. However, then you have the four, which with enough cards could also be a flush. Logically, you would put your faith in the queen, she would be the ruler of your hand. That’s an easy decision. The dealer puts down a five of spades and the Jack of hearts. Now it’s getting good, because now your heart is pumping. You now have to place that bet, a call, or raise depending on how big your ego is. As you play, you find out if you are right or not, though what happens if you fold? Well, you're out of the game. You’re in essence dead so to speak.
You're dead because you lost your humanity. You didn’t play with the two things that keep you alive.
I made that mistake, and now I’m here determining where I want my body to rot once these bullets have sealed my fate. It’s cold here, laying in the dirt with a rattlesnake beside me. Though brush all around crackling as the breeze kisses the ground. Though that beautiful, free sky looks as lovely as ever.
I ran with a gang for awhile, many robberies and shoot outs filled my days with entertainment. Once in a while, if I was bored, I’d go out to a saloon and get my fill of food and laughter. It wasn’t easy being the devil of society, but it was better than being a prestigious puppy that followed the government around. Though, since life has a funny way of writing out its ideas of drama, I realized that that devil comment was truer than any I dared to write in these pages. At least I can say my dues, all the others couldn’t. The wolves of my pack are long gone, having tried to fight with hunters that had bigger pistols then could be dreamt. Then, after that fight was done and we had to question our savagery, we turned on each other. We weren’t a family by any means, but we all had one goal in mind: Live and hope the world goes back to what it should’ve been.
I guess that idea was one fit for a child reading fairy tales. The world moves on, it knows what it’s doing. Time and time again you can see the patterns of fate be laid down on the table, yet we were all fools who put on our blind folds. With all those officers, and all those innocent folk that didn’t even know the time of day… i ain’t never seen so much silent sorrow. The weeping of strangers I hardly knew, and the grieving of the monsters we became. It seems fitting though, in a tragic Shakespearean way, that I, a gunslinger who's draw was faster than a hawk, be killed by a boy who didn’t even know how to aim. Yeah, that was the end for ol’ Falcon. A simple stroll by an alleyway and then a bite of a bullet from some kid who grabbed his dead daddy’s gun.
Funny how some of the most innocent people are still arguing with fate as I have. I had so much for me, a legacy that gave me pride, a warm bed to sleep in, a woman I loved dear… it was all there, but the world had other plans. It’s strange, I couldn’t even tell you which card I was betting on in the end. Survival or morality. I wonder which one it was? I wonder which one that O’Brian kid was betting on when he got shot down in the road as we were running. He was just a kid, twenty maybe? He had a tough upbringing like many who followed this line of work, but he had potential. He studied the game so much that he could teach it to others, but he failed. Then you had Williamson, a rugged man who knew from the very beginning that survival was the only card he looked at. I even sometimes wondered if Williamson even knew what morality meant! I know he didn’t, not with the way he’d kill townsfolk for a few dollars. The sad truth to that was we all knew it because we followed suit. Our leader, the head of the pack, was a snake. That foolish heist she planned with the railroad company was such a sweet bait, and we all took it without looking back. Now where are we? Dead, or dying, or fearing death which may come soon.
I wanted to do so much more. I wanted to finish this card game fair and square, and yet I have been tricked into a contract I had no desire of signing. What would my ma think? What would pa say to me now? Ma always made the best stews, so warm and inviting to all. Then there’s pa’s cigars, always feeling the house with a strong fog that makes it feel like home. I wonder if they would tell me off, or just be happy I was alive. I wonder where they are now? The sky looks so beautiful tonight. I don’t know why I’ve been given this view to remember. If there is a god, I’m sure I will soon learn what he makes of me yet. Maybe this is the plan that Sister Linda told me about when I was helping her gather the food donations for the church. She was a wonder, that miss. She had such a golden heart that she could end wars with a single smile. I’m shocked how such a kind woman gave a devil like me a chance, though she was convinced I was something good. Makes me question what she meant by that, but I guess I’ll never know now. I don’t even know if one of the cards in my hand would work with that deck. I don’t even know which card in my hand I would even think of playing, or maybe I should fold and let the winners cheer in victory. I think fate’s already decided my choice, though.
(At this point in the entry, a weird marking can be seen. This marking indicates when the broken pencil, well, broke. I wonder what else he would’ve wanted to share.)
This story was submitted to The Doorstep Project by Sketchy_Fishy_. This story is licensed under the Creative Commons: By Attribution 4.0 International License. Find more information at https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/
Thank you Sketchy_Fishy_ for your contribution to The Library of Lost Things.
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