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Flying Away - a story (finale)

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  • Flying Away - a story (finale)

    This is the last and final installment of the series of stories I have done on a female poker player named Michelle. I hope you all have enjoyed reading them as much as I enjoyed writing them. As always, I'd love to know what you think (good or bad).

    Pretty Pink Socks

    Bad Beat

    In the Muck

    The Bleeding Lady

    Royalty - Part One

    Royalty - Part Two

    I am flying. Not like an eagle soaring high above the sky seeking out its prey. No, I am nothing as majestic as that. I am more like the wounded bird with the broken wing, falling slowly, plummeting towards the ground. I have no parachute. I have no safety net. I am flying. Away.

    I stand perched on the bridge contemplating all that has been. Underneath me, I see the wind blowing across the surface of the water, creating a slight ripple of waves. The sun is rising up over the horizon and a bright glow of red reflects off the water. Rocky cliffs jut out over the bank creating a feeling of isolation, of being alone. I am alone, I think.

    I won the World Series of Poker not once, but three times. I was hailed by many as the greatest poker player ever. It was a dream come true, wasn't it? I thought I was the best poker player in the world, and I had people telling me it was true. Money poured in, and so did the friends who wished to ride along my coattails. But you know, it was never enough. I always had to have more. If I was winning at a 100-200 game, I had to move up to a 1000-2000 game. If that became stagnant, then I had to make insane proposition bets.

    And then something happened. I woke up one morning and realized I was alone. No one loved me. No one cared who I was as a person. No one wanted to be with Michelle the person -- no, they wanted to be with Michelle the poker player. My family had long since abandoned me. My Mom and Dad wanted nothing to do with me -- they didn't care I had made a million dollars ten times over. My two sisters rode along the initial high with me at first, but then they too abandoned me, telling me the life I lived was not any way of living at all. To hell with them all, I thought at the time.

    It always came back to Alex though. So many nights I would dream of his hand upon the glass of his apartment window. I wondered what he was thinking or doing. I wondered if he missed me half as much as I missed him. I'd had many lovers since then, and many so called boyfriends, but like so many others in the world I lived, they were only along for the ride -- they didn't truly know what love was. For that matter, neither did I. But if I had any idea of what it was, I knew it began with Alex.

    My life had turned into one never-ending vicious cycle. Wake up at 2 in the afternoon, grab a cup of coffee or a shot of some imported alcohol, or both at the same time. Run down to the card room and look for the highest stakes game I could find. Sit there, hour upon hour, staring at two fuc-king pieces of plastic cardboard, thinking this was all there was to life. Laughing as people hand me their money. Laughing at how pathetic everyone is. Stupid people. Smiling at their girlfriends as they toss another grand to me. Their girlfriends acting as if it's no big deal. Money is everything woman, get it through your thick head. He's a loser. And so are you.

    And then I realized something today. I shouldn't be laughing at them. I should be laughing at myself. In fact, the whole damn world should be laughing at me. I'm the pathetic one. I'm the one who has no friends. I'm the one who is alone. I'm the one who treats a plastic chip as if it were her lifeline. I'm the one who loves a good game of poker more than a roller coaster or a movie that makes you laugh or the smile of children or a good book that makes you cry. None of that sh-it means anything to me. Nothing meant anything to me.

    I see a seagull swooping down over the water. It is alone, like me. Yet it seems content somehow. I wonder what would happen if I turned around and went back home. I wonder if my Mom and Dad could forgive me. I wonder if Alex and I could be friends. I wonder if I could have my life back. I wonder if I could love, or be loved. I look back at the seagull, and part of me thinks that the answer is to join the bird in flight. To swoop down into the water and disappear. Then everything would be alright. I waver on the edge, uncertain. The water invites me. The wind blows against me, though, almost telling me to turn back. I don't know what to do. I am flying. Away.

  • #2
    Wow!
    What more can you say but thanks for sharing your great work(s) us.


    --Matt--

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    • #3
      Awesome! Makes me want to quit playing.

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      • #4
        Well, I wouldn't go that far - I think perhaps the moral of the story (OK, I'm the author, it is the moral of the story) is that there is much more to life than poker, and we should remind ourselves of that and not take the other more beautiful things for granted.

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        • #5
          Very interesting conclusion. Balances nicely with a "This is the life!" article I read at Daniel Negreanu's site this morning.

          Very well done, hazy.

          Chris

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          • #6
            Will have to go read that Chris.

            Thanks!

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            • #7
              I'm bumping this at someone's request, and figured some of the newer members might enjoy the stories as well.

              Hazy

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              • #8
                Finally got around to printing them all out and reading them in order....Great stuff hazy.....

                Comment


                • #9
                  thank-you

                  Thank-you for sharing your talent with us Hazy. I've really enjoyed this series of stories. It inspired me to take back up my own writing, and I thank you for that too.

                  I've said this before to you, and I'll say it again, these stories are good enough to publish, should you ever decide to to do.

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                  • #10
                    Bruno wrote:
                    It inspired me to take back up my own writing
                    Then he wrote:
                    should you ever decide to to do.
                    8O 8O


                    Hmmm, perhaps a refresher course is in order...... :lol: :lol:

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                    • #11
                      Great work Hazy!!! I loved the entire series and I think that the series makes a valuable point that I hope everyone here embraces.

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                      • #12

                        Deleted

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                        • #13
                          Gator, thanks, now take it to heart and quit playing so much poker!

                          Bruno, Glad I could "inspire" somewhat

                          Die - thanks

                          Mats - thanks, and honest, no hard feelings. I just differ with you on many things and my vocal self tends to say so.

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                          • #14
                            Originally posted by gatorhb
                            Bruno wrote:
                            It inspired me to take back up my own writing
                            Then he wrote:
                            should you ever decide to to do.
                            8O 8O


                            Hmmm, perhaps a refresher course is in order...... :lol: :lol:
                            Hey, he never said he was any good :wink:

                            Comment

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