by Michael

Bluff (an acrostic poem)

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Bashful with a dash of humility was his favorite drink
Leaving him sated every time he partook of that sweet nectar
Under the moonless sky, he would go out for a pint or two
Fortune smiled when he found a sweet young insecure thing looking for tall, pale, and handsome
Finding a dark spot to sip her vitality, he never saw the wooden stake till it was too late

04.06.22

by Michael

Haze (an acrostic poem)

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How hard it was for him to see far into the distance

And that was the whole reason why he was there

Zany things were in the works, and he needed to know how it would pan out

Except the fortune teller was exclaiming that his future was pretty …

09.06.20

by Michael

The Fortune Teller (a 200 word story)

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The cards spoke of fate, but the future they predicted was always left up to interpretation of the one reading them. Most people were almost illiterate. Preston fancied himself better than that.

He pondered that conclusion as he stared at the cards before him. He knew his present was a pair of jacks grinning at him, but his future? The jacks might have been a good a few hands ago, but now he was down to just a two more big blinds.

“What will it be?” asked Jerry with that lopsided grin he always wore. He sat behind a large chip stack that everyone at the table had been contributing to over the last hour or so. Preston stared at his opponent trying to get a read, but Jerry was a stone wall.

Preston thought about folding, but there wasn’t a promise of a better hand in the wings. This was the poker player’s dilemma. What did the future hold?

The jacks were mute, but Preston decided that the future was bright. He didn’t care if the light was that of victory or the burn out of defeat. He adjusted his shades and matched Jerry’s goofy ass grin.

“All in.”