This week’s challenge at Trifecta is to write a 33 to 333 word story around the word –
LUCKY (adjective) using the 3rd definition: producing or resulting in good by chance, favourable
My story comes in at 330 words.
Some People Have All The Luck
“You’re a lucky bastard! That should have been mine really. I’ve been coming in here for years.”
I remember those words as if they’d been uttered yesterday. He’d been right of course. I’d never been here before, not my sort of place. It was that awful thunderstorm that had driven me in. I was through the main door, letting down my umbrella and wiping the rain off my glasses before I realised where I was. My first instinct was to turn straight round and leave, despite the weather, but there was something about the chiming of the old clock that drew me in.
Before I knew it I was sat in a chair, by the blazing log fire, a mug of beer in my hand and the landlord sat beside me explaining, in a loud voice, the nature of my good fortune. A small crowd had gathered around us, each of them wondering why me, a complete stranger. The landlord calmed them down with a wave of his hand.
“Gentlemen, gentlemen. You know the rules. The winner is the one who walks through that door at exactly the same time as the old clock strikes 13.”
I soon learnt that the old grandfather clock, in the corner of the bar, seemingly broken, would, every now and again and for no discernible reason, strike 13.
It would appear that it had done just that as I’d, unintentionally, stepped though the main door, making me the winner.
My prize – lifetime membership of the Red Lion tavern, my own chair by the fire and a non-stop supply of beer for the rest of my life. To many this might sound like a prize worth winning but there was a down side. As the chosen one I was never to leave the place again, not until I died or a new winner was chosen.
Fifty years on, I sit in my chair, nursing yet another pint, praying the clock will strike again, soon.