By Jordan Foster
I plummeted to the shadow-covered ground, quickly tucking into a roll. Then I leapt to my feet and dusted off my brick-red cloak. Gross, this better not be another prison cell.
Before I could explore any further, a huge hand grasped my hood and lifted me off the ground, scraping my head across the ceiling. The brute of a man turned me around, flashing a grin of huge, crooked teeth.
“What are you doing here, scamp?” He shook me, and my coin pouch dropped from my belt.
“I-I seem to have lost my way. If you could set me straight, that’d be great.” I nearly gagged at my feigned fear—and his breath lingering in the stale bunker’s air. “You can have that pouch of mine.”
“I don’t fancy your money.” He set the bag into my palms. What else could he want? He chuckled and wrenched a white device off my arm. “This fancies me though.”
No! My heart raced. The curse would catch up to me without my portal cuff and trap me in the Dark Lands with no escape. That could not happen.
I gritted my teeth and slipped out of my cloak, landing on my feet. “All right, mister. I gave you the choice to take my money and go your way, but now you’ve crossed a line. Give that back!”
“No.” He snorted and walked off, dropping my cloak on the dusty floor.
“You asked for it.” I charged at him, pulling a plasma dagger from my boot and aiming for the arm holding my portal cuff.
The ogre grabbed my dagger arm and lifted me into the air again. “Feisty, huh?”
I squirmed in his vice-like grip as he carried me along his original route. He opened a trapdoor in the low ceiling, letting sunshine flood into his grody hideout, and tossed me onto the street above.
“Thanks for the gift.” He smirked, then he slammed and bolted the trapdoor.
I growled. He would rue the day he crossed Spark Spaulding! My mind churned while I stood up, trying to decide whether I should con him or attack again.
I found myself parting the flow of a futuristic street market’s crowd. A grin spread across my lips. I snickered. Shouldn’t have left me with my bag of coins, ogre. I sped into the market to gather supplies for exacting my revenge.
***
I set up my new stall at the market’s heart, swiveling around the plastic cups I’d bought on the cheap fold-out table I’d hidden beneath a checkered tablecloth. A fake mustache tickled my nose, and I adjusted the flat and rather itchy straw hat to hide the little curl of brown hair dangling over my brow. I reached to twist my cuff on my wrist but only wrinkled my sleeve. I frowned. Where was the ogre?
Chills crawled down my spine, a clear indication of the curse drawing near. This world, like every world, was meant to be a quick pit stop, not an extended stay.
I examined the little wooden chest full of technological trinkets, some bought, others acquired through my little game of chance. If I really were in tech reselling, this game would be a wonderful source of inventory. As it was, I was only interested in one thing. My eyes locked on my lumbering target now walking toward me, sporting my portal cuff on his wrist.
I cleared my throat. “You there, fine sir. You look like a man of intellect. Surely, you can best my simple game of cups.”
He slowed his pace, observing my game. “What’s in it for me?”
“Wonderful prizes of all sorts, but I’m sure you’ll aim for my grand prize of a thousand dollars.” I lifted a cup to show him the roll of bills.
The man froze at the sight of the huge prize. I would blow a million dollars to get my cuff back. Nothing was worth more to me.
He grunted. “How much for a go?”
“Oh, I don’t take money. This is how I get technology to sell in places where it’s less common. Surely you can part with that curious device on your wrist.” I motioned toward it nonchalantly.
“Heh, that pipsqueak would throw a fit if he found out I’d given it to some tech dealer.” He laughed and slipped my cuff off his wrist. “I’ll have a go.”
I took it from him and tossed it in my chest of other trinkets. “All right now, watch carefully.” I briefly lifted the cup with the thousand dollar prize to jog his memory before swiveling them around. “Follow the cup.” I swapped the contents of the cups as I moved them about, grinning when I found his eyes still lingering on the wrong cup. “Now I’ll add an extra, empty cup. Watch it, or you might end up with nothing.” I nearly laughed when his attention fixed on the empty cup. I nudged the table into him, buying me time to swap the grand prize into the once empty cup. Dumb as a box of rocks. “Now which cup is empty?”
He very quickly pointed to the cup with a thousand dollars in it.
“Wonderful.” I hid the cup away. “Now pick the cup that has your prize.”
His face scrunched up, but he pointed at the middle cup. “That one.”
I lifted the cup with a smile. “Oh, lovely, a twenty-five dollar voucher to that ice cream stand over there. Thanks for playing.”
His massive fist pounded the table, sending my money and tech trinkets sprawling to the ground. “You cheated!”
I dove after my cuff and slid it on my fist, dislodging my hat and mustache. I whipped around with a smirk, stuffing my money in my pockets.
“You!” The man scoffed.
I scrambled to my feet and opened a portal with my cuff. “Enjoy the ice cream, ogre!”
I disappeared into the swirling blue mass before he could follow.
Rate this story:
(2 votes, average: 3.00 out of 3)
You need to be a registered member to rate this.
Loading...ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Hat and mustache throw me off everytime. Makes me wonder how people ever recognized Charlie Chaplin.
I love the way Spark outsmarts the ogre! Great job, Jordan!
Good story, especially the opening.
Very clever; I like this Spark and the same he plays. (A nice twist on the old shell game, by the way).