The following piece is a descriptive passage, which could possibly end up becoming part of a short story somewhere down the line. It describes a pivotal moment in a game of poker between the hero Michael and several other characters. The game has boiled down to two contestants, Michael and the unreadable man who sits across of him.
Raise or Fold
Michael stared across the table, the man's dark, emotionless eyes met his piercing blue-eyed gaze. Emotions, mannerisms, facial expressions, it seemed that the intimidating hunk of flesh that sat before him had none. He towered above the green table like a bear attending a child's tea party. The red backs of the cards looked miniscule in comparison to his grizzly hands. Michael wondered for a second how many lives those hands had brought to a screeching halt.
The faint amber light of the chandeleir shone on his dark marble like skin, it exposed his facial features. The distinctive scar under his left eye, a nose that looked like it had been broken far too many times, and most of all his eyes. Those dark, unreadable eyes. They were devoid of any emotion, absent of any colour and most importantly, giving no indication to what was coming next. The man never spoke a word, but he managed to say more than anyone else on the table.
The man's chips lay in the middle of the table, mocking Michael. It's as if the small plastic ellipses were whispering to him, interrogating him, asking him what he was going to do next. Michael removed his gaze from the blue chips and focused them on the cards that he held in his hand. It was simple, raise or fold. Michael glanced once more at the frightening mass before him. He took a deep breath, and pushed all of his chips into the middle. All or nothing. It wasn't just a saying anymore, it was now a question. The cards would give the answer.
