Unlucky Streak

     This particular afternoon, you've managed to fall just short of the avatar score for Typing Terror – for the third day in a row. The shelves of your favorite shops sit brimming to the full with unprofitable items, obstinately refusing to refill with the high rarity treasures you lie in wait for. Your faction lost the skirmish, and you have to deal with the snide taunts of your friends, donning their new avatar especially to mock you.

     You wander aimlessly, tasting the thickness of your gloom and frustration. Desperate to escape your own mind, you board a ship because you can – and a while later, end up on the shore of Krawk Island.

     You can feel your mood begin to lift as you breathe in the salty sea air. You hear the sound of shouting and clanking of glasses wafting your way from the Golden Dubloon, but decide against the strain on your nerves and wander resolutely on into Warf Wharf. You smile at the Weewoo in the window at Little Nippers, and peek in the door to see who won the latest round in the Food Club. You hear the delightfully ominous strains of music and the clinking of reels coming from Black Pawkeet Slots, and for a moment, you are tempted to drown your sorrows in pushing the bright red "Max Bet" button and watching the whirring of slot icons, if you hadn't seen another weathered sign hanging from an upper window, and subconsciously began to approach it.

     Bilge Dice.

     You remember getting the Bilge Dice avatar a while ago. But that's not the only avatar you can get from this game, you also remember. The elusive Bilge Dice – Lucky Streak, commanding almost as much respect as a Stamp Collector avatar. You can't be unlucky forever, can you? You think as you push the door open, briefly allowing yourself to indulge in images of showing off the avatar to your friends – who's jealous of who now?

     A Meerca, a Krawk, and an Eyrie grin maliciously at you in the way only pirates can. You remember their names: Monty, Grimtooth, and Deadeye. You see in their eyes the fondest desire to take all your money and crush your hopes and dreams. You try to stifle a shudder of fear as Grimtooth approaches you.

     "Fancy a li'l gamble?" he hisses.

     You forgot how intimidating he be. Trying to look confident and unperturbed, you jingle your bag of Neopoints as you reply, why not.

     Grimtooth leads you upstairs to a vaguely familiar dark room lit by yellowish candlelight. You sit down in the fourth chair at the little table, trying not to cringe under the three penetrating stares. You reach into your bag of Neopoints and pull out 10 NP, putting it on the table. For a few seconds, you hesitate, and pull out another 990 NP, tossing them onto the table with a series of loud "clinks".

     The pirates smirk among themselves, and each match your ante. A small pile of Neopoints shine and glitter in the feeble light as you pick up your six dice.

     Clunk. Clunk. Clunk. The tapping sounds of dice falling on the table echo eerily in the little room. You smile as you see two sixes and a four; you placidly place them into your small wooden box, and roll again...

     Half an hour passes. Your bag is now several thousand Neopoints heavier, and you are now playing for free. You give yourself a little congratulations at your small victory; the pirates are visibly annoyed that you had bested them at their own game.

     You know that you were only playing for one thing now, the coveted streak of ten, the glorious rare avatar. You wonder why you aren't restocking your shop or checking your stock market portfolio, but as the sound of dice hitting the table fill your ears, the thoughts pass;

     Outside the grimy window, the sky had begun to darken. Your dozens of commitments race across your mind, but you ignore them, mesmerized by the dice and the faces of your tireless opponents. One victory... and two... and three.

     Your heart begins to pound and your breathing becomes thick and rapid as you win a fourth round... then a fifth, beating your previous best streak. The air in the room suddenly felt solid. You can see the excitement in the eyes of the three pirates – for what? To indulge in your disappointment after you lose? Your own excitement races up and down your body, briefly overpowering your judgment. "Wait..." you breathe to the pirates. "Give me a moment to catch my breath."

     Grimtooth nods, his face devoid of expression. The trio put their heads together and mutters words you can't differentiate. As you try to calm yourself, you hear footsteps on the creaky old stairs: townspeople had come to watch. Undoubtedly the trials and tribulations of gamblers provided a solid source of entertainment for the Krawk Island locals.

     You quail under their stares, but try to compose yourself.

     "Okay boys, here goes." You roll.

     Two sixes and a four on the first roll. You breathe out a little. Not bad, not bad.

     A one on the second.

     Then a four and a six.

     You hold your breath as the pirates reveal their scores: 21. 20. Did not qualify.

     You let out a tiny gasp. You hear the locals shift their feet and draw sharp breaths. Then silence descended once again, unbroken except for the shouting and laughing from the street outside. You felt like you were in a different dimension from them.

     The pirates exchange shifty looks and hold up the dice again, preparing to toss. You nod to them and follow their lead.

     Clunk. Clunk. Clunk.

     You score a perfect 24.

     You frantically scan your opponents' dice for four sixes. You find none. As you look back up, your insides turn to frozen jelly and your breathing becomes more ragged.

     A few of the watching crowd whistle. A Kadoatie mews.

     You slowly get up from the table. "Be back in a few."

     The crowd parts to allow you to leave the room. You can feel the pirates' stares piercing your back like swords.

     You walk outside the building breathe in deeply, happy to be away from the stifling atmosphere of the playing room. You try to lose yourself in the chatter of the passers-by on Warf Wharf, willing yourself to calm down. Is this the day that will go down in history?

     A few moments pass and your head clears. Slowly, you walk back toward the building. The door creaks as you push it open. As you ascend the ancient staircase, you hear the excited chattering of the watching crowd, but as soon as you appear in the doorway, silence falls with a haunting suddenness. You try to disregard the disquiet creeping up your spine, and make your way back to your seat and your dice, the small cubes that hide your fate.

     Monty smiles at you, and a chill runs through your body as you feel his ill-meaning. You wonder how a smile can be so insanely terrifying, but you try to put it out of your head as you pick up your six dice.

     Your dice fall from your hand without meaning to, as if an external force has taken control of your nervous system. The pirates roll with you.

     Two sixes, a one, a two, and a five.

     You take the sixes and the one. No four. Not ideal, but you pick up the dice to roll again.

     A six, a five, and a one.

     You take another six, a sense of dread descending upon you. I need a four.

     A five and a one. You can't breathe. One last chance.

     A three. Your heart stops for a split second.

     Did. Not. Qualify. The realization presses on your chest, smothering you. The color drains from your face. A murmur passes through the crowd like an icy breeze.

     Three malicious grins spread across the faces of your three opponents, suddenly blooming into all-out, raucous laughter at your expense. The watching crowd groans as a single entity. You broke your streak of seven.

     You push yourself up from the table, grab your Neopoint bag, spilling a couple thousand in the process, and tear out the door. You nearly crush a young Kacheek who happened to be in the way, the sounds of laughing and groaning ringing in your ears, making the blood pound painfully in your head. You stumble your way across Warf Wharf, only feeling the ground under your feet, not seeing the shops or the passers-by, bumping into a variety of annoyed tourists and locals, and head onto the nearest ship. You barely sense its movement across the Neopian seas, and your unfocused eyes see nothing but the blue of the ocean and the yellow of the dice. You rehash your game over and over, regretting taking two sixes instead of one. The boat docks. You mechanically walk off the ship, onto the dock, and back home.

     At least you got a trophy.

The End