Daily Prompt: The Perfect Game by: Cheri Lucas Rowlands
You’re set to play poker (or Scrabble or something else . . .) with a group of four. Write a story set during this game. Or, describe the ideal match: the players, the relationships — and the hidden rivalries.
My gaze focused on a flirting crystal blue stare, boring into the cards in front of her, narrowing at one, then moving on to the one next to it. Her manicured finger lifted up and slid over the edge of her middle card and then a smile spread on her heavily coated lips.
Her hand dropped and she leaned back, her face triumphant.
“Pass,” she mouthed to the player on her left, on my right. I turned my gaze on him.
His eyes didn’t shift like hers. They were a steady green beam, focused on first her face, then his cards. He sat so still, like a cat with his eyes on the mouse, eyebrows not even twitching, fingers unmoving. While it was his turn, the room seemed void of all life. It was as if he didn’t need to breathe.
Finally, he picked a card from his hand and flung it on the table. It landed with the rest in the middle of the pile with surprising dexterity. “One five.” Then he raised his eyebrows at me.
“Pass!” I was about to say when the fourth player slammed his cards number side down on the table and scraped his chair back. His brown eyes were glittering with excitement as he jabbed his finger at the green eyed player and shouted, “Cheat!”
Everyone glared at him. Finally, I flipped the card. It had a six on it. He was supposed to take the pile, because that was how ‘Cheat’ worked, but instead, he folded his arms across his chest and stuck his tongue out at his opponent.
The brown eyed boy pulled his hand back, eyes burning with anger and turned to me. He tugged on my sleeve. “Mummy,” he complained, “he called me a loser.” Lightning lit up the room and illuminated the canvas I strung across the hall to set up the scene of a tent.
Rain continued to pour outside the house in a dreary, neverending storm.