The Oblivious Life of Gordon Gnash
Gordon gnash was NOT dying. He was a perfectly healthy 5’ 10", sandy blonde haired man. He even kept in moderate shape with a brisk run every morning. He had ten toes and all his fingers, he suffered from no mental issues and had a fairly pleasant demeanor most of the time. But at that very moment, as he stared at the 5 dollar scratcher in his hand, he was desperately trying to convince himself that if he won the jackpot it would save his life.
He raised his other hand, coin poised to reveal his potential fortune, then dropped to his side and he started to walk. Deciding to give it more thought first. He felt if he could somehow reason his way to feeling as though this would truly save his life it would work, he just wasn’t there yet. His feet carried him out toward an old bridge with a clear view of the night sky. Looking up he tried to reason how winning the jackpot really would save his life. It would, he pondered, if he looked at it a certain way. It would save him from the absolute boredom of being a temp. He had no real job, no real passions to follow either, and traveled often living in hotels, his life in a suitcase. It was how he wound up in Wisconsin. He’d just finished a job and was leaving tomorrow but if he won the scratcher that would all change! He could have adventures! Explore the world! At the very least buy a house somewhere nice. He felt a fire build inside him, it built and built and he knew he could do it! He new he could win! Newly determined he reached into his pockets and withdrew the coin and lotto card. This was it! He could feel it! Something was happening! It was as if every fiber of his being was focused on the fact that his life needed saving! It would work! Furiously he worked the coin back and forth across the paper and in the light of the near full moon he could read the results, triumphant of his victory he scanned the result and found he won…..nothing.
He hadn’t even won a dollar.
Disgusted he tossed both the coin and slip over the railing and turned to leave. The coin flashed in the moonlight before gently splashing into the river, the light playing over the eyes of the troll that had been sleeping peacefully under the bridge in the darkest shadows of its frame. It woke with a start, hungry and angry at being roused, it swung its long, oddly jointed hairy arm up and over the side. Feeling the warmth of flesh it grabbed at it and dragged it back under the bridge tearing and ripping apart the man that had been to close to the edge.
Gordon stopped and turned, facing back down the path that lead to the bridge. He could have sworn he heard a scream but it must have been an animal. Shrugging, he continued on his way. He had no idea his life had just been spared. The unlucky meal of the bridge troll had actually been a man wanted by the police for months for robbery and murder. Ralph Santas had set his sights on Gordon as his next victim before becoming a victim himself and to a creature very few would have believed existed.
Sighing, Gordon trudged on coming to the other part of town that was divided by the bridge. He found himself outside a strange looking bookstore, stranger still that it was open this late. Shrugging again he walked up to the door, swinging it open in time to let out a tall woman with a stack of thick books. Her arms were tattooed in intricate patterns and she had white and black dreadlocks for hair. He jumped aside to let her pass. The store clerk called out something as she left, something about dangerous? Yes, she definitely seemed that. Path clear he walked in, the man at the counter seemed normal. Glasses, flannel shirt and a slightly goofy grin. His cheeks were a bit red, either he had allergies or he was blushing as he watched the door swing closed. He turned and looked at Gordon.
“How can i help you pal?”
Gordon thought a moment, and then asked if the man had any books on luck.
“Oh! The fickle lady! Yep, got some rare ones!”
Gordon wasn’t sure how books on luck could be rare but he had to agree that luck did seem fickle. As he gathered his purchase and left the store he reasoned that the large heavy, tomes? Is that what the man had called them? Or was that the store? Either way, he reasoned they’d give him something to read in his hotel room tomorrow. He hoped his luck was better in New Jersey.