Minus Seven Luck

Aesop thinks that Vulpis is just being a big baby. Last night, they went to bed extra early because Vulpis kept on saying he was so super tired, and same with the night before. Every time Aesop wants to do something, Vulpis is tired. Every time he wants to play a game, Vulpis is hungry. Every time he wants to go exploring, Vulpis’ feet hurt.

As Aesop shuffles, Vulpis lies on his back, staring up at the ceiling of their room. This room is almost the same as  the day they found it, white walls and floors and roof and light. It kinda hurts Aesop’s eyes with how bright it is in here, but it’s the best place to play cards cuz the ground is so flat. 

Aesop doesn’t know the rules to the game. He’s making them up as he goes. He knows this, and Vulpis does too. There is no hiding it. It’s this that upsets Aesop most. If he really hated to lose so much, Vulpis should have just changed the rules. He should have just said to Aesop, “No, that card isn’t worth five points, it’s worth two.”

But Vulpis never does that. All he ever does is whine and ask to go to sleep.

“You can go first,” Aesop tells him, watching as he lazily drags himself up from the cold floor and eyes the stacks of cards. Five cards for his hand, five cards for his discard, and the rest in a pile to be split between them.

“Alright.”

Vulpis looks at his cards, frowns, tries to come up with some sort of way to use them. Aesop waits, and waits, and waits, his fingers fidgeting towards the deck, impatiently awaiting their turn to draw.

Vulpis takes out a seven of clubs, places it in front of him, and says, “Plus seven luck?”

“No, it’s an odd number. That means minus.”

“That’s stupid! I thought only the red ones were minus!”

“Yeah, well, that was the last game!”

Vulpis throws his cards in the air, his face all scrunched and his cheeks all red. “I give up! I’m going to bed, and I’m never playing a single game with you ever, never again!”

Aesop scrambles to gather the cards again, his own face burning with anger, now. “No! The game’s already started, you can’t just decide now to leave!”

Vulpis shoots to his feet, stomping over to the other side of the room. “I think I can! I think I can do whatever I want because that game makes no sense and I’m tired and these lights are too bright-”

The room shakes. The lights grow brighter, hotter, angrier. The cards on the floor singe around the edges. 

Vulpis turns back to Aesop, swallowing hard. 

“I’m not tired, yet.”

Vulpis blinks a few times. He looks tired and anxious and Aesop doesn’t care because that’s how he always looks. Vulpis is always tired, and Vulpis is always anxious, and Vulpis is always always always bad at cards.

Vulpis sighs, presses the palms of his hands into his eyes, and goes back to his lace on hte floor. He picks up his cards, and he plays the seven of clubs, and he loses seven luck.

Aesop doesn’t now what that means, and Vulpis doesn’t know what that means. 

Aesop draws his cards, and he plays the nine of diamonds. He gains nine points.

Author's Note

My motivation for writing is to build on stories that I've been making up for years, while also improving my style and ability. Reviews are welcome and appreciated greatly, as long as they are constructive. Please be mindful of how you word your replies, and please remember that anyone can see your reviews. I would really prefer for this to remain a space of encouragement and creativity. Thank you!