“What are we wagering tonight?” Winston bellowed out from the top of the table. Somehow, Poe had found his way into Winston’s card games with friends.

  This was not like him at all, in fact, he had made plans to leave after Cassie had gotten her fix of following Winston around. But the loud music, coupled with the more atrocious vinyl picks, had left him feeling dejected and hopelessly stumbling through rooms that weren’t occupied by frisky twenty-somethings. Soon enough on the third floor he came across Winston’s little game with goons, and found himself a seat to pass the time until Cassie cleaned herself up in the mirror.

  Poe wondered why Winston wasn’t back at the party in the thick of it all. Maybe he was also tired of listening to Cassie’s infatuation for him too, and didn’t want to be snuggled to death by her.

  Poe had always detested Winston and the swaggering entourage that followed him, ever since they’d played marbles together on the school ground. Winston had been the only person in school Poe couldn’t defeat at marbles. This, by itself, wouldn’t be enough to hold onto a grudge well into adulthood, but Winston’s teasing and arrogance that came as he gloated afterwards always stung when Poe thought back to it.

  “What are we playing?” Poe asked softly from the other end of the table.

  “Blackjack!” The Dealer, a sickly pale computer programmer to be, answered. Poe remembered that he had not strayed far from his roots in High School, always obsessively spending time in the computer room when he wasn’t being bossed around by Winston.

  Winston, who was as bright as Poe, realised there was money to be made in all that computing business once it crossed lanes with the telecommunications industry he was already in. Dealer had made a very smart move getting close to him during cafeteria back in the day.

  “Alright.” Poe replied disheartened. He’d never learned to play blackjack, something which saddened him and made him realise how much he’d missed out when friends stayed back to play cards, while he disappeared into his room to study over and over again. He’d gotten what he wanted, an acceptance letter into Harvard, but at the cost of missing out on many key adolescent developmental stages.

  He did not want to linger here for too long then, least he catch a bug and find himself becoming addicted to card games and becoming one of Winston’s goons.

  “All I have is a few dollars to spare, is that enough?” Poe asked. Winston, amidst chomping on a cigar, gazed hungrily at what little pocket money Poe had left after all his college bills had been paid. Even after growing up in wealth, he still couldn’t stop himself from salivating over dollars.

  “Just for one game.” Winston responded flatly. Poe knew that, but that’s he all would need to beat Winston and rid himself of this terrible affliction.

  “What about you?”

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  “Huh?”

  “I said, what are you going to wager tonight?” The rest of the table was lined with a small fortune that Dealer and his friends had coughed up, but Winston still hadn’t put any of his own money out yet.

  “How about the Black Scrolls book?” Poe’s ears had been attuned all evening, listening to snippets here and there from other party goers that Winston had a copy of the black magic scrolls that Zombies came from. Poe was sceptical, but he would press forward and see if the stories were true.

  Winston began to grumble, but didn’t have any money on him to make a swerve away from the topic. He tapped out his large cigar and then walked to a nearby bookshelf to reach for something that was anything but a scroll. It looked like a carpenters’ large notebook, with a faded blue cover, and soon Poe felt a rumbling beginning to emerge from it. He was not sure why it was beginning to rumble, but it did so.

  “I’m sure you’ve seen a few zombies around Harvard, haven’t you Pendleton?” Winston said with a temper, “why else would you be interested in a thing like this?”

  He had seen a few in his final days at Harvard before summer break. His own family would disappear into the kitchen when he spoke of the strange zombie creature, so he’d never really had the chance to explore the topic. Poe, despite his disdain for Winston and his little gangster den, found himself recounting a few tales here and there while the Dealer shuffled through another unopened pack of cards.

  "Hit."

  "Hit."

  "Hit."

  "Hit."

  "Hit."

  Poe flipped his cards over, and discovered a dreadful 8 of Spades and 4 of Clubs. Being lost in the middle like this was surely a bad sign. Not low enough to call, not high enough to rest his cards and watch the overs go bust chasing an elusive 21. Winston had drawn 4 of hearts and 2 of diamonds, the others were much the same as Poe.

  The dealer scattered out another set of cards, and this tine a few contenders left the table with paper cuts. Poe steadied himself after getting a 2 of Clubs, bringing his total to 14. Winston levelled up with a 10 of Hearts. The dealer, the only one left besides the two former marble rivals, had found himself at a riveting 19 score already.

  "Stop," He whispered, not willing to outshine his master yet, "Continue?"

  The two nodded, and he threw out two more cards. Winston drew a 4 of diamonds, bringing his all red hand to 20. Dealer was out.

  Poe had gotten a 4 of Spades, bringing his score to 18. That left only the two of them now to duke it out.

  "Continue?" Dealer asked Poe through gritted teeth. He did not need to ask of Winston what he felt, he only had to peer

  Poe knocked on the table. He was not going to give up after that, nor had he any choice at this point. The Dealer threw a card at him, and, for a moment, Poe felt the sudden stinging feeling of defeat. That was until he realised he was so preoccupied with the number 4 that he made a miscalculation. 3 of Diamonds.

  He had won. He had finally beaten Winston at something in his lifetime. Like an angry gorilla, Winston cast his cards in the air like an angry gorilla frustration, and threw the leather bound tome at him.

  "Take the fucking thing!” He shouted, already retreating to the bathroom to lick his wounds. Poe didn't care for Winston's venom, and he didn’t care to stop and take the rest of the winnings with him as he left the Poker room, promising himself he would not find himself getting lost in that dark world again.

  He didn’t make time to speak with Cassie, who’d been eavesdropping outside on their poker match the whole time. He wanted time to think, to pry and understand what these words were to mean to him. He found a quiet bathtub to slump into, and began trailing his hands through pages of dark, lost secrets, picking away at things that should’ve been lost to the sands of time, but now they were in the hands of someone else.

  Someone like him, who always craved an academic challenge.