Posted in Flash Fiction

Poker Face

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He looked at the hand he had been dealt. He was good at this game and made sure that no emotion showed in his face. He looked at the other players around the table. Five more poker faces. This was not going to be easy.

The dealer was not part of the game and could afford a smile. Her role was merely to deal out the tiles, watch what happened and then report back to her master.

He looked again at the tiles in his hand. The message was clear. He slowly placed his tiles, face down, on the table in from of him, pulled out his gun and shot each of his fellow players in the head.

“Congratulations my friend,” whispered the dealer. “You go through to the next round. Follow me and I’ll show you to the next table.”

MikeJackson©2016

A short story for this week’s picture prompt over at VisDare.

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Author:

Now that I'm retired I have more time to devote to writing my blog and creating short stories.

6 thoughts on “Poker Face

  1. Riveting, simply because all the ‘stuff’ that is not said. I savour every ten words, wonder what led to that moment and then the next. Then the twist and all my own inner pondering is reframed into a delightful surprise that’s hardwired in in my cells for the next 10 minutes … at least.
    Again, thanks from down-under.

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