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Challenge of the Week CCXXXI
You're in an alley, against a wall, and you're in deep. You really let go of the wheel this time, took a loan from a certain group of, well, shiny dark-haired gentlemen of the city streets. You changed your looks, moved to the east side of town to avoid them, but they have you now, by the wrist, modified cigar cutter ready, two of them smiling at you while the third has your neck in the crease of his elbow. Your four fingers and thumb splayed above your wrist in grip, you have to answer the question, "Which one? If you don't pick now, we take two." Write a poem or story about what put you in that alley, your pick of digit, and the experience, the aftermath of adaptation, if you want, the whole story, if the story goes that far for you. And don't even think about not entering, because we know people, you know? - Winner gets 25 bucks. Go.

No Way Out

I know from all the places to die, my life shouldn’t end in the alley, at least that’s my wish, a hopeless wish that doesn’t have a guaranteed return on investment.

This is my story.

I am an impulsive gambler in life, never thinking ahead first, or even using my head for once. I gambleed all I had on a card game. After I lost everything, I began borrowing money, small loans that mounted to bigger debts that I couldn’t afford to pay back.

I knew there was no end to this habit. But I kept going, deep into the belly of the beast, and never stopped to look back or manage to find a way out. Now, my neck under a sharp knife, my heart rapidly beating, and fingers trembling before they're cut off one by one, it’s too late to think about the solution. For I drained all the resources I ever had, including friends and family. I’m too deep, and have no way out this time around, just waiting for my fate in the dark alley.

midnightink 7-10-23