Thank you for reading and sharing my daily #Storygram short stories! Be sure to subscribe to the Newsletter and check out my film Portfolio!
The Story:
Live music from a string player was almost completely drowned out by the shouting and laughing of dozens of men. The Baron’s Tavern was popular with the townsmen and sailors alike, always stocked with rum and always devoid of humdrum talk.
“Your draw, Quincy,” said a Blackjack player.
Quincy took a deep breath and reached for the stack of cards, struggling to keep his eyes focused enough to guide his hand. He had entered the tavern with 18 pieces. Now, most of it was either in his bottle or on the table.
He slid a card from the top of the stack. Looking at it, he couldn’t tell if it was a 7 or an 8, but he was almost certain they were both diamonds. Deciding the new hand held 22, he slapped his cards down onto the table and walked away. His opponents sat around the cards, puzzled as to why he would forfeit a perfect 21.
Quincy stumbled back towards the bar counter, half empty bottle in hand, bouncing off the various brawls along the way. Just before reaching the bar, a teenage boy jumped in front of him and grabbed his coat. The boy pushed Quincy back until they were outside.
“Stop! Stop it, Kiah!”
“You’re drunk again, Quincy!”
“Bah! I’ve only had a little bit of… I need more,” he said as he tried to go back in.
Kiah stopped him.
“More? The bottle in your hand is half full.”
Quincy stared at the bottle.
“It’s half empty, Kiah. Don’t you know anything about life?”
Kiah led him by the arm towards the carpentry shop where he lived and apprenticed under Quincy. Turning down an alley for a shortcut, two hooded men approached from the other side. Something about them made the hair on Kiah’s neck stand up.
After they passed, one of them whipped back around and shot Quincy. Kiah rushed the attackers but was struck across the jaw so hard that he fell to the cobblestone, barely conscious.
Before he blacked out, he saw them frantically searching through Quincy’s clothing, tossing the coins aside. What were they looking for, if not money?
Voices startled the men, and they retreated. Just before Kiah blacked out, Quincy turned his head to look at him.
“Kiah… chest… underneath…”
Think this story should become a book or a short film? Let me know in the comments below!