Creative Writing: Shut The Box

I sat across from a greasy skinned, nearly toothless man. He grinned at me, causing his mischievous, dirty gray eyes to crinkle around the corners. I returned the stare with almost black eyes full of bitter hatred. I hated everyone, everyone except my beautiful Catherine, and sometimes I had to stop myself from hating her. My only drive was revenge; my body was always stiff, my head always pounding. I brushed sticky crumbs off the sticky table. “Shut The Box.” I said in a low, rough voice. I was an excellent gambler. With almost three years of experience I could manipulate and turn the tables on my brain dead opponents with ease. I had a fair bit of money from playing dirty men in this dirty warehouse, but I kept it hidden. Less prying hands to grab at me on the streets if they believed me to be poor. Shut The Box was an old sailors’ game and a specialty of …show more content…
I counted the bills by flipping them out of my hand as if distributing cards before a game. I mumbled under my breath, saying each amount until I was done. Then I began counting again, and then a third time. I wiped sweat from my brow and buried my forehead into the mud. I had enough, I had enough money after three years of hiding and deceiving to make my way back to Wuthering Heights and to cause Hindley, Edgar, and so many others deep, horrible pain. My wicked laugh turned into a sort of howling as I gathered the money into a large pile.
The journey to Wuthering Heights was a long and painful one from London. I spent days crossing over wide fields and tripping across the slick rocks buried under the water of rushing rivers. My body was in great pain but my mind had never felt so fresh, so alive. When I finally reached the long path winding down the door of Wuthering Heights, I reached the path winding down to my revenge on Hindley. I laughed an almost unhuman laugh and took off running across yet another