The cards sit on top of the piano faded with age. Each a hollow reminder of years gone by when his children visited, when they were alive. While change floats by on eternal wings, Sam can’t fathom the cruelty change induces. His memories mussed, his life is trussed, as he waits for tomorrow with the eagerness of a much younger man.
My hand hovered over the card sitting atop the velvet cloth, its crisp edges taunting me to reveal its face. The smell of incense was stifling inside the small tent.
“What are you waiting for?”
She was eager to glimpse our future. I didn’t believe in fate or cards, merely her. She believed though. So this card changed my life.
As a Fiction Dealer, I think you've been dealing us some magnificent cards recently, so I hope your deeply felt story is more fiction than fact! Have a magnificent weekend!
The room was quiet and seemed more of a mess. The bed was still untouched and the sheets scrunched and twisted. I suppose I could give the teddies to Margaret's kid. I put the half eaten chocolates into a bin bag, then the balloons, the wilted flowers, and the get-well soon cards. I'll keep this one; it was from me.
The carnival lights flickered as Tabitha smirked at the fortune teller’s booth. "You know this is a scam, right." She couldn't believe her friends talked her into this.
"Hey Janie! Wanna learn a new card game?" She didn't, but Mother said she needed to be nicer to Billy, so she placed her Ziggy bookmark in her Nancy Drew and closed the book.
"What is it?" she asked, trying to sound interested.
"It's called '52 Pickup--and you're it!" Cards rained down on Janie and Billy bolted from the room.
Born in a house of cards, Love was a currency; Affection was a prize.
She never assimilated, hosting competitions like her brother or winning prizes like her sister. She avoided conflicts: live and let live. Her silence would have followed her to the grave had they not costed her everything.
Now, she’s burning that house of cards to the ground.
This could be a poem! 👏🏽❤️
Thanks Jamal❤️ some of these are meant to be poems but I always chicken out because It’s been so long since I written any poetry 🥲
Thank you for your service, it read. As with all text I read at the moment, it appeared to be dripping with sarcasm.
Nice.
That reply was also dripping with sarcasm.
“Thank you for the card, everyone.” More sarcasm, just said without.
I placed the card back in the envelope and left.
“Goodbye and good luck.”
Final sarcasm. Said proudly.
The cards sit on top of the piano faded with age. Each a hollow reminder of years gone by when his children visited, when they were alive. While change floats by on eternal wings, Sam can’t fathom the cruelty change induces. His memories mussed, his life is trussed, as he waits for tomorrow with the eagerness of a much younger man.
PROMPT: CARDS
THE CARDS
She was staring down at the cards she had in her hands, concentrating hard.
Occasionally, she’d pick up another, and discard one she was holding.
Always maintaining the set of seven she needed, determined to end up with the best selection possible.
It was just so difficult to decide what to buy, when they all had such lovely words inside… 😎
My hand hovered over the card sitting atop the velvet cloth, its crisp edges taunting me to reveal its face. The smell of incense was stifling inside the small tent.
“What are you waiting for?”
She was eager to glimpse our future. I didn’t believe in fate or cards, merely her. She believed though. So this card changed my life.
“Pick a card.”
“When you told me you could do magic, I pictured something more…impressive.”
“This isn’t an ordinary set of cards. Pick one.”
“Fine. … Very funny. I guess every card has this on it?”
“No, look—they’re all different. So, what does your future hold?”
“It says you’re going to kill me.”
“Well, the cards don’t lie.”
I couldn't imagine if there had been more in attendance. The participants filed in, and at length the ceremony began.
When it was over and the whoops of joy had finally silenced, our family had a new member of the health profession: my grandson.
Of all the cards given over the years, this was one of the most proudly presented.
He shuffled the deck, slammed it down on the table. "Cut!"
The mark cut the cards, and the sharp picked up half. He proceeded spray cards from one hand to the other, behind his back, juggling them.
Finally, he picked one, seemingly at random. "Is this your card?"
"Nope," the mark said condescendingly.
"Then the coin is yours." The mark snatched it up and ran off, never noticing his purse had already been cut and emptied by the sharp's partner.
60mg of Cards:
Alice donates all her purses and handbags to charity, gleeful to be unburdened.
Finally, no more worrying about losing her keys, cash, or credit cards.
No more fretting about pickpockets, pin numbers or passwords.
After all, with the latest advances in technology, Alice can hold everything close, instantly accessible.
…Especially once her new little gadget is embedded beneath her skin.
The mark of the beast!
As a Fiction Dealer, I think you've been dealing us some magnificent cards recently, so I hope your deeply felt story is more fiction than fact! Have a magnificent weekend!
The room was quiet and seemed more of a mess. The bed was still untouched and the sheets scrunched and twisted. I suppose I could give the teddies to Margaret's kid. I put the half eaten chocolates into a bin bag, then the balloons, the wilted flowers, and the get-well soon cards. I'll keep this one; it was from me.
Oh, that one hurts.
60mgs - Cards
The carnival lights flickered as Tabitha smirked at the fortune teller’s booth. "You know this is a scam, right." She couldn't believe her friends talked her into this.
The final one made her pause—Death.
"Fake," she laughed, tossing cash on the table.
But fate had the last laugh.
Her car skidded off the road that night.
The cards were right.
Expiration Date
The card was black, matte, and warm. No stamp. No sender.
One line: “You expire in 72 hours. Optional renewal available.”
Thinking its spam, he trashed it.
His body shivered the next day. Fever maybe.
An hour left.
Convulsing on the floor, he crawled towards the trash.
He picked out the card. Now it read: “Offer expired.”
He lungs seized.
Well, damn, now you have me paranoid of all those renewel and pre-approval notices I tossed out. Great story
May 9 Cards 60
"Hey Janie! Wanna learn a new card game?" She didn't, but Mother said she needed to be nicer to Billy, so she placed her Ziggy bookmark in her Nancy Drew and closed the book.
"What is it?" she asked, trying to sound interested.
"It's called '52 Pickup--and you're it!" Cards rained down on Janie and Billy bolted from the room.
ah, yep, I remember that game well.
Ah, I remember that game. A special favorite of bratty brothers everywhere!
Born in a house of cards, Love was a currency; Affection was a prize.
She never assimilated, hosting competitions like her brother or winning prizes like her sister. She avoided conflicts: live and let live. Her silence would have followed her to the grave had they not costed her everything.
Now, she’s burning that house of cards to the ground.
“Cards on the table.”
His voice is so low I can hardly hear the words, but the meaning is clear.
“I swear, I never gave it a second thought.”
This is not to be taken lightly, this swearing. He tilts his head to one side, eyes narrowed before he finally nods at my answer.
And now, he will never know.