Death's Ninth Piece 1

20250530

Prompt from DailyPrompt.com

The hooded figure watched as Pam laid out the board and pieces.
“S-sorry.” Pam whispered. “I know this’s silly…”
The unearthly murmur, while chilling, had a kindly tone. “If it is the only game you have, child, that is what we will play.”
It wasn’t the only game. But the others were all cooperative. Except for the spelling game, but Pam was bad at the spelling game.
At least snakes and ladders gave her a chance. She hoped.
“What’s your favourite colour?” Guests got to choose first.
“Black is traditional.” Death’s face was unseeable in the darkness of their hood yet somehow radiated a polite smile.
“Um.” Pam bit her lip. All the pieces were bright, cheerful colours. “What’s your second favourite… oh.” She stared, her little eyes wide, as Death’s pale skinny fingers plucked a black playing piece from the bag.
Pam had played this game too many times to count, and knew all eight player colours - the rainbow plus pink. And when she tipped the bag out the eight familiar pieces were still there. But if she hadn’t know better she would’ve thought the black piece belonged; it looked exactly like the others.
“What’s your favourite colour, Pam?”
“Orange.” Pam picked it up.
“A strong, cheerful colour.”
“Yeah!” Pam flashed a gappy grin. “Cecy always says it’s a boy’s colour but that’s because she’s a doodoo head.”
“Does Cecy think that only boys can be strong and cheerful?”
“Huh. Maybe.” Pam was about to say ‘I’ll ask her’ when she remembered why they were doing this, and the words shrivelled in her throat. She cast a glance back at her body laying still in bed.
It was a very strange feeling, hoping she’d have to put up with Cecy again.
Death’s words pulled her attention back. “Who goes first?”
“Um. We always did youngest first…”
The dice hopped into their rubber rolling cup and it slid across to her.
“…Thanks.”
Pam crossed her fingers and toes and shook the cup three times.
Five. Not a bad starting roll.
Death’s fingers wrapped around the cup and the dice jumped in. One swirling flick of the wrist and they spun out, dancing across the table.
Three. Just missing the special ladder you got for rolling two on your first go. Phew.
Tension mounted as the rolls added up. Pam worried her nails down to bloody nubs. Invented increasingly elaborate rolling rituals to try and hide from the fact that there was no strategy involved.
Their pieces sprung forward and slid back at the whim of the dice. It felt like the game would never end.
“I see Fortune is amused by our plight.”
Pam blinked. “Huh?”
“Does she think I will stoop to cheating if she delays me enough? I am insulted.” Death rolled again. Eleven. “Ah. And it seems so is she.”
The black piece tapped along the squares - and landed on the last snake. The LONG one. Back to the first row.
“It is your turn, child. Roll.”

Prompt was “Write a piece about taking a gamble”.