1 Three Strikes/Inciting Incident

The room was dimly lit by a scant few candles, oranges and yellows danced on the mossy green of concrete walls in my basement. Excited for what this game had in store, I picked up the pair of six-sided dice. My friend, James, was shaking a bit, palms sweaty, breathing heavy. His blonde hair was ragged and his glasses were foggy, hazing out his usually green eyes. He was never well with the prospect of the paranormal. He and I had only met a few months ago, bonding over our shared love for games. He sat to my right as I looked down at the game board, a crudely but plank of wood. Despite it's old age, anyone would think it had been recently made. This game, from what I know, has been around for nearly three hundred years, yet I could never find a name.

My friend and I found it about a week ago in my Grandfather's attic, and the excitement to play it had never left my mind. We, well I, decided to bring it home and take the board and dice to my basement. The rules were burned on the back, and I had memorised them for this day. They were quite simple if I'm being honest. To start the game, one must wield the oak and birch dice. The name of the wielder will appear on the board when the player feels they are ready. Just like that, two words burned themselves into the wood, Kai Kirschen. Next, three numbers will appear on the board just as the name had. Smoke rose from the board as three numbers burned onto it: an eight, a six, and a five. There are three rounds, in order to win, the player must match one of the numbers every round.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" James said, hesitant to stop me. "We don't know what this could do to us."

"There shouldn't be a problem," I said. "The rules haven't lied yet, which means we already know what will happen."

"But, w-why do you want to do this?" His voice shook.

"Because I like winning." This was an understatement, I absolutely loved the sensation of victory, that warm and fuzzy feeling one gets when they accomplish something or overcome something.

"A life isn't worth a gamble though, if the back of the game is telling the truth, then if you lose..." He grew silent.

"I lose my life, I know, but I won't lose."

"How can you be so sure!? This isn't some rock-paper-scissors game, or-or-or some round of Go Fish!"

"I've never lost a game since I was five." I smiled at him. "I'll be fine."

The back had said the cost of losing to the game was the very life of the player themself. I believed so anyways, the wording was awkward. "The losing party wielding the dice shall the deed of the dead," is what was written. This was the only part that confused me, but I deduced that it had meant they, being the player, would die. The prize for winning on the other hand, we had no idea. It wasn't written anywhere, not a single mention of it. I didn't care. I just wanted to win. My father had taught me that victory could and always would be a reward in and of itself. That, and to never cheat. I'm sorry, father.

The dice rolled in my hands, excitement and curiosity kept building up inside of me. I rolled the two dice onto the board. The world felt to like it slowed, I could feel every centimeter the dice fell, like a graceful dance. The knocking of wood on wood as they hit the board and slowly rolled and toppled over each other. The clacking echoed in my mind, bringing me this nostalgic feel that other board games always had. It still... The dice finally hit their stopping point, the birch showing four dots and the oak showing two.

"Yes!" I yelled. The hype in my bones still hadn't settled. I looked around to see the room had filled with a strange mist. James had stopped shaking; he had stopped moving entirely. Thoughts like "what's going on" and "what happened" raced through my head. I couldn't even see his eyes.

"Game Time." I swung my head to my left, hearing an odd voice.

"Who's there?" I asked, fear and confusion finally creeping in on my back. The feeling of the mist getting heavier made my skin crawl. I tried to stand, putting every ounce of strength into my legs, but to no avail.

"You cannot leave, not yet." The voice spoke once more. Not yet, those words had nested into my head. Could I only leave if I beat the game? I looked down at my now shaking hand, the two wooden dice knocking on each other. Rolling, rolling, rolling, rolling. On reflex, my hand opened, dropping the dice. The board had three new numbers: seven, ten, and three. The dice rolled on the table with their beautiful song, now an agonizing plea. A new stress rooted its way into my heart as my breath hitched and slowed, unable to to take my eyes off the dice. The oak landed on three dots, the birch, thankfully, landed on four. I breathed a heavy sigh of relief as the numbers faded from the board.

"Heh." I had to chuckle to myself, just to try and lessen the weight of the room upon me. I heard the faint whistling of wind, so I took another look around me to ensure this was still real, yet for my fragile pride to take a hit, I had seen nothing. The room had gone entirely black, yet I could still see me. I could still see the dice, the board, and the lit candles. Everything else seemed to disappear into mist or smoke. I shook as my friend was no longer there.

"Don't look away." I felt these words come from behind, yet I couldn't turn. "Pick up the dice; keep playing or suffer." Desperately, I shot hand towards the dice and grabbed them; my shoulder stung from the mere action, my eyes grew tired. I didn't understand what was going on. Why had my friend disappeared? Why did the room turn black? Why was it hard to breathe? Those thoughts terrified me. I had no idea what to do.

I felt the room, or what was left of it, quake. "Throw the dice." Continue was the first thought I had. Keep playing, must play, keep playing, must win. Follow direction. My hand began to shake again. I felt like a prisoner in my own body, I hadn't known whether or not I was being moved, or moving on my own. Every fear, every nightmare I could remember crept into mind as my breath quickened. The final numbers burned into the board: twelve, eleven, and two.

"What!?" I mustered the strength to speak. These numbers were the hardest to get in a roll. What do I aim for? Should I go for eleven? twelve and two are impossible right now. I need eleven, I need eleven, I need eleven, I need eleven. My hand opened as the dice flew out for a final time, rolling on nothingness. Everything went silent, that whistle from earlier had gone silent, the knocking of the dice had gone silent. I heard my heart beat. I heard my breath. i didn't hear my thoughts.

The pressure of the air felt like it would suffice to me, no matter how fast or slow I could breathe. I felt heavy, like my body was falling asleep, waiting for the dice to show their numbers. Just on cure, the landed on six. The birch dot bounced and rolled, slowly revealing the fifth side so many times. My mind clinged to that sliver of hope, just so I could throw away this game. Should I though? Victory once gives way for victory once more. Should I get rid of it? What if I don't? I must. I want to win. I want to live. Why can't I... The birch die landed, my hope shattered like a window with a brick thrown through it as the number was shown.

"No, no, no no no..." My voice fell silent as tears flowed freely down my cheeks. The room had gone, the air had gone, even my friend had gone... and now... "James... No, I'm sorry for not listening... Life isn't w-worth... i-isn't worth... What have I-I..." The numbers faded from the board one last time, black smoke rose from the board as a red line burned through my name.

"You have lost. Now your life is forfeit." The voice returned. I didn't even turn to look for it, I couldn't, I shouldn't. The flame on each candle grew brighter, smoke and flame began to swirl around me. "You will be punished accordingly." Accordingly? What did that mean? "You have lost the game, but played no tricks. Despite your low odds, you continued. You held onto every hope you had left, and braved through until the end. Your punishment must be relative to your deeds."

"Who... W-Who's there?" My voice cracked, curious, yet scared for my life.

"We matter not, what matters is you." The room spun as darkness and light mixed and mingled with each other. A black space appeared in front of me, just above the board. "Through this game, you showed your true nature. You continued to play, knowing the risk, not even considering a reward. Your life will be consumed by just that. Your pleasure of winning turned into a gluttonous prison that hungers for victory; victory higher than any cost until your mind is filled with nothing but vile deeds. You will become your own prison as you act upon these rules. You will no longer live as a human, but as a monster that must live the deadliest game of life."

Something wasn't right. Wasn't I supposed to die? I was confused and scared, many thoughts ran through my mind again. Too many to remember and recall, except for one: what did the losing condition actually mean? Again, I thought about it, and yet I still came to the same conclusion. What else could it possibly mean? What does a game have to do with death, how does this punishment even connect to it?

The black space, what I can only describe as a ball to this day, floated towards me and into my chest. The worst pain I had ever felt had taken me. I doubled over in pain, hands over my rapidly beating heart. I pushed my forehead as hard into the solid nothingness where the board sat. My shoes scuffed and screeched as they ran and pushed into what was previously a floor. I wanted to scream as tears now streamed from my eyes, to take my heart and hold it to stop the beating, to do anything to take my mind off this pain. I could hear these words in my head: "If you manage to survive the trials life has in store for you, then we shall think secondly on what you have suffered today. If you don't survive, then you lose. This game was just one of many that you will fave. You will wake once your mind and body have healed from this predicament, but your life will never be the same again. The real game will begin once you wake. We bid thee farewell." I bolted up as my back arched, this feeling of a thousand needles forcing themselves into my spine. I opened my mouth and let loose a silent, wordless screech for help. I collapsed and hit my head on something solid. My ears rung with a high pitched tone and my body cramped, pulling in on itself as I went silently.

The final thing I heard on that night was a gasp from my right. A single sentence surfaced within my thoughts: life is a game, and the only way to win is not to live, but to survive. This rule must not be broken, even by others.

I'm sorry.