Stanley lives for the game. He thrives on the tension, the hush of expectancy, the rush of adrenalin. He loves the risk, even the delicious agony of dread that he could lose everything.
This evening he feels that risk keenly. He’s staked so much on tonight’s game, but there’s no going back now, in this final round. His future rests on a knife edge.
He sets up, takes aim. The room erupts. He’s won!
Back home, Stanley examines his prize, awestruck. Such a rare marble, in his collection! He positions it carefully. The black-vaned cat’s eye, velvet-cushioned, glimmers congratulations.
I understand there’s quite a market in rare and antique marbles. Who can understand the mind and motives of collectors? I was struck, however, by the beautiful colours and designs of some marbles, and the game has a long history. If you’d like to see for yourself, here’s an article, and here’s another. Thank you once again to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields, for hosting Friday Fictioneers, and for providing the weekly picture prompt. You can read all the 100 word stories here.
Happy Christmas and my best holiday wishes to everyone. And here are a few of my thoughts about summer holidays.