stories

Alonso Lopez

Word Count: 767

The Bad Guy?

I walk into the casino with money in my pocket, ready to gamble away. As I head in, I see a dark figure in the distance. Unable to identify who they are, I shrug it off. The day goes by as I gamble away my earnings playing poker. I’m earning some cash but not as much as I would hope. Casually I walk towards the slot machine to waste more of my money. Once I begin to play, I start to get wins here and there, some loses but more wins. Streaking up win by win, I have no reason to back out. I continue to play but to the corner of my eye I see it, the dark figure again… Far out across the casino just standing there. I look back to the machine, but then my eye catches that the figure has gotten closer to me. I glance back to the machine getting my money out thinking that they aren’t focused on me, but then I see the dark figure start walking slowly towards me. In a panic I put my money in my pocket, dropping some. I somewhat casually speed walked out of the casino, hoping that it didn’t see me.

I walk out the casino to the vast quietness of the parking lot. I breathe in and out to calm myself and decide to go back to my apartment. As I walk down the street, head hanging low with the stinking smell of sweat on me; I think to myself what was that figure I saw? Why was his face so unclear? Was it the mafia. Was the mafia coming after me? I wonder this because of recent Al Capone news of him getting time in prison for not paying taxes or something like that and thinking that one of his mafia goons are coming after me, or maybe it was a bad guy from one of those comic books coming after me, like a super villain. Now that I think about it, that’s ridiculous. What am I thinking? I then suddenly stop. I tilt my head up and begin to see what’s in front of me, a little wooden coffin. On top of the coffin I see a picture frame. The face of what seems like a little boy with his face blurred out. I reach toward the picture to get a better look, as soon as I touch the frame the coffin and the photo fade away and disappear like dust dragged through the wind. I rub my eyes and look around to what just happened. I start to question my sanity as I walk away. It’s probably just my nerves. I shrug it off. 

After what seemed like an eternity walking back to the apartments, I go up the stairs to the second, Floor room #20. I enter and see the picture frame of my son on the wall. I look away quickly, trying to shrug it off. I go to the kitchen and open the fridge to see nothing that satisfies my hunger or my dry mouth. I decide to grab a pack of cigs off the kitchen counter and a lighter to which I bring to the porch. I sit down on a chair looking into the eyes of the glaring sun, then back to the empty chair next to me. I proceed to light my cig until I look down the street to see the dark figure has come back. My mouth and cig drop to the ground, I bounce off the chair, startled away from the porch, I frantically looking around for a weapon. I see a kitchen knife, I grab it and run towards the door to see what I’m facing. I’m outside and see that the figure is no longer there. All my senses are on alert. I enter my apartment and bolt towards the rotary phone, dialing up 911, but nothing answers. I walk away from the phone and what I see next in front of me is the figure of darkness. I step back in shock, not knowing what to do. The person has no face nor anything, just a dark fog with the silhouette of a man. He slowly lifts his foggy dark arm to the photo of my son. He takes it, slowly handing it to me. My hand trembles as I reach for the photo passing through his cold fingers and as I do, I hear a voice in my ear: “I’m your Guardian Angel.”