Title: “House Edge”
Halloween night.
The street was dead quiet — no kids, no music, not even the hum of power lines. Just the wind, low and restless, like it was waiting for something to happen.
I was closing up for the night when I saw it — a black pumpkin sitting at the end of the driveway. No reflection. No candle inside. But the carved “S” on its face glowed faint blue, pulsing slow, steady, like a heartbeat.
There was a note stuck to the stem.
No name. Just four words:
“Play once. Win forever.”
I laughed, because that’s what you do when something feels wrong but you don’t want to admit it. Still, I took the bait. The lid slid off smooth, like metal against glass. Inside — no seeds, no pulp. Just a stack of poker chips, all marked with the Stake logo.
The air changed. Everything felt heavier — not like a storm, more like gravity had tripled just for me. Then I heard it: the faint rattle of dice from somewhere inside the dark.
A voice followed — soft, confident, with that tone dealers use when they already know the odds.
“Your soul for a wish. Double or nothing?”
I don’t remember saying yes. I only remember the blue light bleeding out of the pumpkin, spilling across the ground like liquid neon. My reflection in it smiled back — but it wasn’t me.
Then I blinked — and I was sitting at a table. Cards in hand. A faceless dealer opposite me, eyes burning through the dark like two blue embers. The room stretched on forever — rows of tables, all occupied by shadows, all gambling with the same quiet desperation.
The dealer slid the pot forward.
“One hand. House edge applies.”
I don’t remember the draw. I don’t remember losing.
But I remember waking up in my driveway, the chips scattered like teeth on the pavement — and the pumpkin gone.
Now, every Halloween, I see that blue glow flicker somewhere down the street.
Someone else has found their pumpkin.
And every year, the house edge gets smaller.
Soon enough… it’ll be even. 🖤🎲
Stake.com ID: kjraidse32