Heads or Tails

Old Writer's Digest writing prompt.

“Heads, we get married; tails, we break up.” Martin's voice was the sound that issued forth from an open grave. The smell of the casino's bathroom made her wonder if she had been transported to a cemetery. It wasn't a tone normally reserved for the announcement of upcoming nuptials.

“Baby, no!” Her hands clawed at the walls of the bathroom stall he had found her lying in, fighting to pull herself up. It was a pitiful battle, and she slumped back to the floor, too inebriated to find her feet. “Please don't do this, I'll...” Her mind went blank.

“This should appeal to you,” His eyes were obsidian, beautiful beyond belief, and used for weapons in primal times. “You wanna gamble with everything you have. With everything I have! Now you can play the game in earnest.”

Miranda had messed up. Again. The money they were going to use to travel the world for their honeymoon was being deposited in her friendly neighborhood casino vault. $7500, all gone. She had been so sure she could win, the day had gone so well. None of it went as planned, though. He would have been so happy to find a couple thousand extra in there. His smile would have been just for her.

“Please, baby. It's not like that! I sw-”

“Shut up. I'm tired of your promises.”

A sob escaped her, staring up at the man she loved more than life itself. Loved even more than the euphoria that swept through her with each roll of the dice. He had been her protector, her lover, her friend. A quiet, dark-eyed man in a suit that cost more than her gambling debts. Now her life with him hinged on the coin in his palm. Martin said gamblers were weak, said he wouldn't make a bet without knowing he would win. Their life together was too serious for a coin toss.

Wasn't it?
“I love you, Martin. Please! Not like this. Just gimme one more cha-,” Miranda reached out to him, cringing back like a whipped dog when he recoiled in disgust. Her dress was bunched around her thighs, one strap hanging off her shoulder. Long blond hair in snarls, and one arm draped over the toilet that still held her lunch. She pushed her dress down her legs, at least, not looking at him as she did.

“No more chances.” The coin pinged off his fingernail. Those obsidian eyes followed its flight, while Miranda gauged the coin's decision by his expression. It bounced once, twice, and stopped. He would've made an excellent poker player; he never blinked.

His gaze traveled over her, critically studying her disheveled state. It was his, 'I need to fix this' face. Her heart lifted, and she held out a hand. Martin would save her again. He loved her, and always would. This time, she wouldn't let him down.

“Goodbye, Miranda.” The click of his shoes on the tiles echoed off the walls, and the door slammed shut.

It had been tails.

Her arm fell limply to her side. She fell into the corner of the stall, ignorant of sanitary conditions. It had been tails. A sob so terrible it forced her knees into her chest racked her body. It had been tails. The tile floor was cold against her cheek. She could see under every one of the stalls, until they blurred too much to make out. Every one was empty. It had been tails. She was alone.

Where had her luck gone? Life with Martin had been more than she ever expected to find. Now it was all over. She cried harder, hugging her knees so hard her arms cramped. She didn't let go. Just twelve hours before she woke after a fantastic night in his arms. If only she could wake up and find that it had been a bad dream, and she was still there.

To wake up in Martin's arms. Safe and sound, with his whispered 'I Love You' to carry her back to sleep. Too much to hope for. She had nothing left of him but the memory of the disgust on his-NO!

Miranda crawled out from her hiding spot beside the toilet, and saw the glint of silver on the floor. The coin! His coin! She scrambled for it, desperate to hold something that was his.

A moment later a scream penetrated the heavy bathroom door. It was the sound a soul makes as it tears free of its material prison. Miranda couldn't hear it. The only thing she knew was that coin; it had been heads.

Reviews

[Marie]

A great story. What else can I say? you're a good writer.
But I'll make a suggestion about the last paragraph:

"A mement later a scream penetrated the heavy bathroom door. The sound a soul makes as it tears free of its material prison.Miranda couldn't heaer it. She knew only one thing:

The coin had been heads.

That's how I would have written it.

[Dante Carlisle]

Thank you for the idea. That definitely sounds a lot more concise. One of the things I've spent a lot of time on in my writing is keeping myself from stretching sentences with wishy washy words. While that's not necessarily the case there, now that I'm looking at it again, that last line in particular seems a little off. Thank you again for pointing that out.

[Marie]

The work as you posted it is fine and not stiff at all. I didn't necessarily improve it; just changed it a bit.

[Lyn Anderson]

I really like this story. And the ending is dramatic.

[Dante Carlisle]

Thank you for the review! I need to find some place with more writing prompts and start working on short stories more often. I'm growing weary of doing nothing but working on my next novel every day.

[Stan Lee]

Intriguing story. Well written too. Couldn't help but get caught up in the petulant relationship between these two characters and the love/hate relationship between Miranda and her addiction. I admit I wasn't sure why she screamed at the end but the heads was an interesting twist. Great write. :) Stay inspired!

[Dante Carlisle]

I just reread this (I wrote it long ago in response to a writing prompt), and the scream is definitely a bit unexplained. Looking at it as a writer with a few novels under my belt I want to go back and polish the ending. Ahhh, the joys of this strangely masochistic lifestyle.

Thank you for the review!

[S Lavovi]

Strong message of addiction here and what many people need to experience before working to rectify the situation. If only her love were the strength she needed to carry on with him.

[Woody]

this is a very good story and I loved the way you told it. I really enjoyed the read, Dante.

[Derek29]

One of the better packages.
Reminiscent of Hemingway, in fact. Yet, also, too, the story seems very honest as high quality commercial style writing. Superb craftsmanship, I'd say. Well done.
Bravo!!