He was a lean fellow—seven feet in height,
Black of beard and hair peppered with white.
“Come in, welcome!” he said with a grin.
“Have a seat. I’ll fetch refreshments,
While Rose fills you in.”
He led me to the dining room;
A party of strangers there sat,
Dice and minis cluttered the table
And character sheets spread flat.
He was gone but a moment, hardly out of sight,
Before he returned, bearing sliced veggies,
With fried cauliflower bites.
“I hope you like vegan,”
He said with a smile.
“It might be a long session,
But this will last us a while.”
“Is Adam still coming?” I asked, nervously.
It was odd my friend was absent,
Who recommended this to me.
The game master smiled wider, his eyes bulging forth.
He said gently, “No. Such a shame.”
“He fell to a skeleton. So he’s out of the game.”
“Oh,” I said, puzzled. “He didn’t roll a new sheet?”
“He’s playing a new character,” said the GM. “Just not one he controls.”
His joy was exuberant as he gestured at the grid.
“He’s part of the town, you see,
forever and ever bound to me.”
I looked at the board and before me I saw
My friend Adam, in pewter, two inches tall.
“It looks quite real,” I marvelled and gasped.
“You could make good money with a skill like that!”
“My work I won’t sell,” his smile slightly faltered.
“With my craft I collect players–their forms lightly altered.
At my friend’s likeness I once again glanced.
With a jolt, I realized his meaning at last.
For the miniature before me bore
A look of sheer terror as never before.
I pushed back my chair and got up to leave.
But all the game’s players turned and stared at me.
The GM gave a belly laugh and said with much glee,
“You might try to run, but that would only hasten my scheme.
For to retire from my game, I demand a small fee.
A roll you must make, at least above three.”
I trembled with fear and pondered the toll.
To remain and play, I might keep some control.
But to exit and run, on fortune I’d call,
Unsure of the fate that might then befall.
Taking my seat, I swallowed my fear.
And said through gritted teeth.
“Alright. How do I start here?”
His face split open and out poured a laugh.
“That’s perfect,” he said.
“Fill out your sheet, and follow the path.”
I think back to that night, repeatedly these days.
I wonder what might’ve happened, if I’d chosen another way.
If I’d run out the door or accepted his dare.
If I hadn’t chosen Thief or had taken the stairs.
But pondering the past does me no good.
I must live in the moment—really I should.
As it isn’t often he opens the display
And takes us out to join in the play.
© 2024 Copyright — Forrest R. Roberts, All Rights Reserved
