The water’s rising quickly, but don’t worry.

I’ve saved you a spot at the bottom, love.

So, hold your mouth on mine one last time.

I want to steal that final breath from your lips.

Your trembling and gasping is beautiful, love.

I want to feel my hands close around your throat as I help the waves put you to sleep.

I want one last chance to run my fingers through your hair as the current swallows you whole.

Don’t worry, love.

I’ve saved you a lovely, cold bed right at the bottom to say good night.

I’ve saved you the tide to tuck you in.

Life is not anyone’s right, it is not an easy game to play. Only the most skilled gamblers can hope to survive long enough to cash in, but even then chances are your neighbor is waiting to call your bluff.

Anyone affiliated with the darker circles of life knows that we do not deal only in drugs, cars, and money, we deal secrets. The secret to winning the game of life as with any game is a good bluff. Secrets carry as much value as any car or drug imaginable. Stories circulate no matter what, real or fake, it doesn’t matter. If an outrageous story can be made believable by a name, that name is what’s valuable.

I play the game like anyone else except I know the outcome of every hand. Someone will win, and someone will lose everything. The only reward for landing somewhere in the middle was the consolation prize of living another day.

I won once. I had played against a rich businessman until he folded, taking a knee to give me my prize of a diamond ring. People scorned me for marrying young and for money, but was I supposed to simply ignore the love of a businessman? Only, he wasn’t just a businessman.

Victor Aritello, soon to be Don of the Arietto family, controlled next to all mafia transactions in San Diego working under his father’s name. A man whose head was wanted by half the state.

However On to the real question: if I have won the game why was I running down a cobblestone street in Florence Italy wearing louboutins on the night before my wedding. Simply answer: my hotel is on fire. More complicated: who set it on fire? Simple answer number two: I did. Well, more to the point, an asshole of an Australian shepherd did.

“I love you.” Victor grinned at me while straightening his infinity knotted tie.

“I know” I sat on the bed pulling on the red floored stilettos. He pulled me to him leaning down to whisper in my ear. Even in my heels I was two inches shorter than him.

“One day until you’re officially an Arietto.” He spoke softly, as if he really thought the words filled me with joy. In truth, every conversation was just another hand to be played and to be won.

“Yes, one day until I’m physically forced to meet your family.” A simple bluff easy to maneuver. Given his fame one would assume Victor to be a talented player in the game. In truth he could rarely read a bluff, even from opponents far less skilled than I. He had been born into his position and his power.

Victor chuckled leaning down again to kiss me.

“Will you be able to entertain yourself well enough in the city? I have some business to attend to today.”

“Of course I will, might miss you though.” I smiled sweetly as he left the room. As the door latched behind him the smile dropped from my face, I had my own buisness to attend to.I had business meetings planned for the rest of the day. Assimilating into the life of the business would seem impossible from an outside perspective, being thrown into an unfamiliar game with no knowledge of the rules, but this was not my first hand in the game, however thoroughly my fiance believed it was. I pulled my briefcase from under the bed, checked myself in the mirror and went out to play the game.

“So you want to talk about the Tarle family?” The man leaned back, voice heavy with intoxication. A drunk opponent was any gambler’s best friend. “Anyone important has a story of the first time they met a Tarle. I am no exception.” He spoke with a thick accent, one arm dangled at his side petting his Australian Shepherd “I did not wish to offend the family by bringing a guard I arrived alone only to find a sepia envelope secured closed with a wax seal. I broke the seal and heard a quiet electronic click as wires connected within the envelope. A single sentence was written on the inside of the envelope ‘You have one minute run.’. I had given up field work long ago and hadn’t run in years. But boy did I run.” Don smiled lightly, leaning forward in an unsuccessful attempt to peer under my hood. The private dining room was dimly lit by candle light leaving my face intentionally concealed. “The only way I know I made it out on time is that when I looked back at the building, it sunk into the ground.”

“I am not a man who scares easily, but when the two black mercedes pulled next to me on the street I was ready to beg for my life. No one got out, they just sat there either side of me with the distinct feeling of unseen guns trained on me. A blue Porsche pulled alongside me and she got out. Dressed in a black tailored suit with a curl of Auburn hair trailing over her shoulder. Not at all who I expected to meet me, I expected Don Tarle, in truth the don is a drooling fool with no idea of the business at hand. She is the type of woman that you see and your eyes just follow, her smile would freeze a lake solid and melt the heart of anyone who challenged her. I still cannot believe I walked away from that meeting. It is said you only walk way if she needs you.”

“No.” I spoke for the first time, a low whisper only.

“What?” He looked shocked at my interruption.

“You got two things wrong.” I pulled back my hood revealing my auburn hair, showing my hand of cards. “One, I don’t let you walk away if I need you, I don’t need you. And two, I didn’t let you walk away from anything. “

The don opened his mouth to object before slumping down in his chair, blood trickling from the bullet wound in his forehead. The room sat still for a moment as I lay the pistol on the table. A low growl started from below the table.

The dog lunged faster than I could react, knocking the table and its contents to the ground. I managed to get my chair between me and the dog as its jaws clamped down on the wooden leg. Smoke started to fill the room, the decorative curtains set ablaze by the fallen candles. The Australian Shepherd ran from the room raising alarm in the restaurant outside. It was too late the room would soon be engulfed in flames fueled by the cheap linen of the italian restaurant.

I slipped out through a maintenance door and started running, my heels clacked on the cobblestone alleyway. Sirens in the distance served only to hasten my pace. Have I finally been forced to fold? By a dog?

Tires screeched as Victor’s Car slammed to a stop at the opening of the alleyway. I threw myself into the passenger seat, trying to think of any way to bluff my way out of the situation. He could read me, it was written across my face.

“It’s alright, I know” He stopped me before I could even start giving excuses.

“Victor...”

“I’ve known for a long time, you’re not as good at lying to me as you think” He smiled, almost warmly. “I love you.”

“Victor, I killed your father” I protested

“I know, I’m over it.”

“It was five minutes ago.”

“We weren’t close.”

“I guess I no longer have to worry about meeting your father.” I grinned back at him finally breaking.

Title: A Game Of Secrets

Genre: Action/Thriller

Age Range: YA to adult fiction

Word count: 1287

Fit: As a starting writer I do not have a wide selection of work to give an example from, I wrote this piece specifically for this competition as I feels it shows both the humurous and dark sides that permiate most of my writing.

Hook: The ablility to play others is a talent few posesss.

Synopsis: In a male run mafioso family, a girl must be cunning in order to work her way to the top covertly joining two of the most powerful families.

Bio: I am a student at University of Oregon, an 18 year old freshman studying biochemistry and Biophysics. I have no professional background in writing but have always writtten short and novel length stories in my freetime.

Platform: LibreOffice?

Education; Completed highschool at south eugene international high school, received an international baccalaureate, currently pursuing a BS at Oregon State University. I am fluent in English and Japanese and proficient in Arabic, and Mandarin.

Writing style: Creative fiction, mostly fantasy or alternate reality.

Hobbies: Rock Climbing and language studies.

Hometown: Eugene Oregon

Age: 18

With thudding, laden steps, she heaved each door shut and bolted them; nothing left to flash before her eyes.

He relaxed against the doorframe, sighing into its sunlit depths; afraid to muddy it with his calloused hands.

She flung them all open, sunsets and sunrises cascading from each doorway; her laughter an immortal chime.

Slamming it shut, he fell to his knees, forehead pressed against the worn wood; some doors should remain closed.

His studious pacing counted the polished doors, opened and closed on command; never any dust to linger.

Tiptoe steps led her to starlit skies, ignoring doors creaking open at the corner of her eyes; don't look, don't remember.

He strolled, chuckling and patting each doorframe like an old friend on the back; a life lived he couldn't regret.

Prying the door open, hands bloodied and scarred, she stared into the void; embracing the pain that made her whole.

Flames licked at her heels, doors flaming and falling to ash revealing steel bones; no danger of rose colored glasses.

Rippling tide tickled in

Foaming cream embellished

frothing the creature

embraced within

curiosity piloted me

toward sodden shape

kissed by eddies

bathed by ocean tears

dusted with cinnamon sand

bedecked by sea creatures

flecks of sea worn shells

I extended my hand

to brush off the grains

recoiled in horror

threw caution to wind

excised the seaweed

sheltering her nose

pale lifeless eyes

resigned to fate

abandoning life

fearing its pursuit

too titanic to swim

through her misery

tide flowed out

taking the flotsam

the dregs of her life

leaving no traces.

I wondered with pain

if she had drowned

but my pith

sank with certainty

suicide with the tide.

#suicide #SoddenShape #Challenge #StrongPoem

I suppose I set myself up for the fall. Taking a job in a hospital with no prior experience and no idea what horrible things people do to one another, themselves and worst of all their children.

My trainer tells me that sicknesses come in waves in the emergency room. Car accidents when it's snowy. More gang violence in the summer. Full moons bring in the psych patients. Tonights special is post-holiday suicide. Five people have tried to take their lives this evening. For all different reasons. Six if you count the man overdosing on heroin. This is just my first night.

Two days later I happen upon a man handcuffed to his bed. He is sobbing and tells me about the woes of being a sex offender. He asks me if I know that one conversation I have with someone can make a difference in their life. That kindness can go further than I can understand and could I be kind to him. I laugh and tell him I am always kind. He calms a little and I hand him my pen to sign a form with his one free hand. Next thing I know he is trying to stab himself in the neck with my pen. Luckily, he is intoxicated and I wrestle it from him and run out of the room. Frantically I look around and see a nurse. I say "That man just tried to stab himself with my pen!" Clearly amused by my terror she says "You must be new."

The next day a man comes in from a car accident. I am just observing and I walk into his room and he is all smiles. I smile and say hello and confirm his name. I wonder what he is in for. I look down and see his thigh bone broken and sticking out of his skin. He continues to smile and the Dr. says "Morphine" and gives me a wink.

A man is taking his clothes off at the ER entrance. He is saying he has bugs on him. I immediately change course in hopes of avoiding bringing bed bugs home. I don't want lice either. Later I ask if they put him in quarantine of some kind and the guard says "Oh no there were no bugs. That is George, he is addicted to meth and comes in half naked often. He is just hallucinating again. "

A woman is screaming "My baby" outside of my office door. Over and over again. She collapses on the floor. I invite her in. She tells me how her husband tried to punch her while she was holding the baby, but accidentally hit the baby instead and they made her leave the ER. She tells me people at the hospital are treating her like a criminal and won't let her see her baby. She is moaning and security walks in. They have brought a Social Worker. Security tells me they have been dealing with her all day. I am upset at this. They ARE treating her like a criminal. I tell them they are hardened and should always try compassion. I whisper under my breathe that I never want to become like them. I defended her. Two weeks later my co-worker tells me that the same woman was arrested in our parking lot after beating her other child. That was the moment when my doe eyes became slits and full of suspicion.