The Lost Card

May 22, 2012
By Steffi Antony BRONZE, Mt. Prospect, Illinois
Steffi Antony BRONZE, Mt. Prospect, Illinois
2 articles 0 photos 0 comments

Harry shuffled through his satchel, searching for his special deck of cards. The deck of cards had the Chicago skyline on the back of every card. His father gifted the deck to Harry when Harry turned nine. He turned 80 just last week. He poured them out on the tiny table in front of his seat. They toppled out like Mike-Ikes from a box. Each card had its folds and cuts from over the years. Harry played with them every opportunity he got. He didn’t share them with others; he always just stared at them by himself. When he had first received them from his father, he would show them off to all his friends. He learned an infinity amount of card tricks. However, Harry had lost the ace of spades card a long time ago. He had given it to his son, who went missing almost 30 years ago, and away with his kidnapped son, went the card. Ever since then, Harry refuses to play with that deck with anyone. Tears filled Harry’s eyes, as memories of his 10 year old boy came rushing like a hurricane.
The train came to a stop, and a middle-aged man, with a top hat and raincoat, entered the train. He sat right across from Harry. “How you doin’?” said the stranger. Harry glared at him, with a stern look and I his deep voice replied, “Good.”

It was a quiet ride, until the next stop. The train stopped, and a boy, about 15 years of age walked on to the train and sat right next to the strange man in the raincoat. “Hey, dad.” the boy muttered to the man in the raincoat. “Hey, son.” he replied.

Noticing the deck of cards on the table, the stranger said, “Wanna play a round of somethin’?

“No, thank you. I don’t use this deck to play anything. The ace of spades is missing anyways. That’s the most important card.”

The stranger slipped his hand into the right pocket of his raincoat and pulled out a card. It was an ace of spades.

“I still don’t want t use my deck to play anything.” Harry insisted.

The train came to a stop. “This is my stop, sir. I think you need this more than I do. I hope we meet again someday, to play a game or two.”

Having said those words, the stranger pushed the card towards Harry; he walked out of the train with his son.

Harry took the card, to carefully examine it. He turned it around, and there it was. The Chicago skyline looked back at Harry.

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