Post by Liar Game on Nov 5, 2016 19:59:30 GMT
With the light of a dying sunset’s last rays, an old man in a fancy oaken boardroom re-watched on his laptop the moment that all the players chose to cast those red apples. It shouldn’t have been possible. There was sufficient reason to doubt. Glory was dangling in front of each player. Who cares about anyone else? Wasn’t the only unity that existed one of mutual convenience? Unity that shattered like glass once everything was at stake?
Double doors embossed with the archangel Gabriel creaked open as a young man walked in. The old man closed the laptop and shook his head.
“It’s settled,” said the young man. “And it’s time to go.”
“Who but you would’ve thought that I’d lose everything?” The old man stood up and took one last look at the room.
If imagery was money, this boardroom would’ve been all that was needed to pay off the debt. Only a lifetime of lies, scheming, and manipulation could build the fortune to make a palace like this. But only a moment of trust could tear it down.
“Youngsters are an optimistic bunch these days.”
“You could do with a little optimism too. Why not consider a change of perspective?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, why did you host that tournament?”
The old man couldn’t bring himself to repeat what they both knew. He expected to obtain the concrete proof that the life he lived wasn’t wrong, to sneer at the hypocrites who sought to defeat the LGT with trust but fall prey to their doubts and fears, and to laugh at the deluded fools who thought the flush red was possible.
But maybe life wasn’t always a battle royal. Maybe underneath their masks, the people he met were truly good. Maybe they really were willing to cooperate and stick out their necks despite the risks. Maybe he didn’t need to betray them before they betrayed him.
When they both stepped outside, the old man looked up at all the stars illuminating the darkness of the night.
“Maybe trust exists after all.”
The LGT Classic has come to a close. All bank accounts, trophies, and stars have been updated. If there are any errors, please feel free to let us know. Thank you to everyone involved with the Tournament!
Double doors embossed with the archangel Gabriel creaked open as a young man walked in. The old man closed the laptop and shook his head.
“It’s settled,” said the young man. “And it’s time to go.”
“Who but you would’ve thought that I’d lose everything?” The old man stood up and took one last look at the room.
If imagery was money, this boardroom would’ve been all that was needed to pay off the debt. Only a lifetime of lies, scheming, and manipulation could build the fortune to make a palace like this. But only a moment of trust could tear it down.
“Youngsters are an optimistic bunch these days.”
“You could do with a little optimism too. Why not consider a change of perspective?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, why did you host that tournament?”
The old man couldn’t bring himself to repeat what they both knew. He expected to obtain the concrete proof that the life he lived wasn’t wrong, to sneer at the hypocrites who sought to defeat the LGT with trust but fall prey to their doubts and fears, and to laugh at the deluded fools who thought the flush red was possible.
But maybe life wasn’t always a battle royal. Maybe underneath their masks, the people he met were truly good. Maybe they really were willing to cooperate and stick out their necks despite the risks. Maybe he didn’t need to betray them before they betrayed him.
When they both stepped outside, the old man looked up at all the stars illuminating the darkness of the night.
“Maybe trust exists after all.”
The LGT Classic has come to a close. All bank accounts, trophies, and stars have been updated. If there are any errors, please feel free to let us know. Thank you to everyone involved with the Tournament!