Chance.

The rain was heavy, drenching his clothes. He felt the drops under his shirt against his skin. He stood in the torrent looking up at the sky, wondering if it was possible to drown in the rain. He kept his mouth open, let the water fill his throat before coughing and sputtering. He fell to his knees, hands going deep into the mud. He shook with anger at his own involuntary motions and whispered to himself.

“No rest for the wicked, no sleep for the vain, in life I will be punished, not my fault I am insane. One moment left behind me, time to have another dance, I offered up my own life, spun the wheel in a game for Chance.”

He stood, breathing in the night air. He was not meant for death, not meant to end. He was a stone against the rain and it took a thousand years to wear away stone. He walked toward the house he had picked weeks ago. In his pocket was a blade of stainless steel, as resilient as he was against the rain. He foot hit the door shattering the wood and the screams began almost instantly.

Fate shared his name, another word for Chance.

He was Chance and tonight he would be fate..

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