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Flash Fiction

Alec Smart was never what you would call a lucky man.

"We're losing him. Get me 20 cc's of epinephrine, stat!"

He couldn't explain it. It just always seemed that Fate had a way of smacking him upside the head everytime things started to go well for him.

"He's not responding. Get the paddles!"

Things must have been going very well for Alec of late, because Fate had just struck Alec with a rather vicious backhand ... in the form of a semi truck.

"Clear!"

Sometimes, it takes drastic measures to turn one's luck around.

"We lost him. Time of death: Three a.m."

Alec felt a feeling of weightlessness, and bone-chilling cold. What happened to the light at the end of the tunnel? A sudden lurch of inertia, an intense feeling of vertigo, and Alec's question was answered. The stark void was replaced by blinding light that carried no warmth. When this light subsided, Alec found himself on a cold ceramic floor, in a bright room that seemed to stretch on forever in each direction. Before him stood a figure that had haunted his nightmares since childhood. A skeletal figure, clad in tattered black robes, armed with a wicked scythe: The Grim Reaper.

Choose. The soundless voice echoed in Alec's mind like thunder.

"What are my choices?"

Accept your destiny, or challenge me, replied the thunder.

"If I win the challenge, what then?"

You shall be returned.

After much thought, Alec decided. "I challenge."

Very well, spoke the thunder, but know this: In the whole of human history, I have never been bested in contests of skill.

"A game of chance, then."

Alec searched his memories, straining to remember games from his youth that he was good at, but were ultimately decided by fate. Before he could even voice his decision, again spoke the thunder.

It is agreed.

The contest raged on for what felt to Alec like an eternity. The two contestants took their due turns, plotting the other's downfall, neither holding a clear advantage.

It was beginning to appear that Fate still had Alec square in her sights. Over the due course of time, Alec couldn't deny that he was very close to losing the game. At the same time, he had no way of knowing if his opponent was in the same boat. Alec looked over his remaining choices. Tactical coordinates. As Alec scanned over his options, his eyes lingered for a moment on one: 2-B.

2-B or not 2-B, that is the question, Alec mused to himself. Wait! Could the solution be that simple? Should I not be playing to win, but playing to live???

State your choice! commanded the thunder.

"I choose 2-B! I CHOOSE TO BE!!!" Alec shouted with rare certainty.

NOOO!!! YOU SANK MY BATTLESHIP!

With a gasping inhalation, Alec found himself back in the hospital bed. Around him stood doctors, nurses, and loved ones. Alec considered himself the luckiest man. Alive.


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The Sandbox
Zone : Other
Zone : Fantasy

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Panda
Great fun and lots of nice details too
Oct 02, 2013 06:09 am
Panda
Great post
Sep 27, 2013 02:31 am
Panda
Great drama!
May 22, 2012 07:12 am
Panda
"He patted my butt." Yeah!
Jan 06, 2012 07:14 pm


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