章 227: Chapter 227
Lena had been told all her life that "The UP and UP Game" was nothing more than an urban legend. People whispered about it, said it could make all your dreams come true—if you played it right. But no one she knew had ever dared to try. That was, until she found the crumpled flyer under the stairwell at work.
It was old, brittle, barely legible, but the phrase "The UP and UP Game" was clear enough. The flyer looked like it had been left behind by someone who'd long since disappeared. Something about it stuck with her, gnawed at her. The flyer was too strange to ignore. Her fingers trembled as she folded it up and shoved it into her pocket. Maybe it was a joke. Maybe.
Still, Lena couldn't shake the sense that she'd been chosen.
It was a Saturday afternoon when she decided to go to the address printed on the flyer. She had nothing else to do. No one would miss her. The bus ride was long, the streets unfamiliar, but the address was a tiny, nondescript building. A door with peeling paint, a cracked window, the faint scent of mildew hanging in the air. It didn't look like much, but it called to her. Something told her she had to be here.
She knocked once, then again, her knuckles making a hollow, anxious sound against the wood. The door creaked open, revealing a dim, cramped room. The air was thick, musty. A man in a tattered coat stood inside, looking like he hadn't slept in days, his eyes hollow and bloodshot. He didn't speak. He didn't smile. He just stepped aside, motioning for her to come in.
Lena hesitated. Her heart raced. Was this some kind of trap? Some sick joke? She glanced down at the flyer again. The instructions were simple: Find the place. Knock. Wait to be invited in. And then play.
Play? What was there to play? Her breath came faster as the man shut the door behind her, the sound echoing in the small room. He gestured for her to sit at the lone table in the center. She obeyed without thinking, the plastic chair cold beneath her.
The man took a seat across from her, his bony hands folding in front of him. His lips cracked into a smile—more of a grimace, really—and he reached into the pocket of his coat. Slowly, as if savoring the moment, he pulled out a worn deck of cards, their edges frayed.
He shuffled the deck with surprising care, eyes never leaving hers. There was something unsettling about the way his gaze locked onto hers—cold, hungry, like a predator eyeing its prey. He dealt the cards, one by one, onto the table between them.
"Pick a card," he said finally. His voice was gravelly, barely a whisper but somehow clear.
Lena blinked, swallowing her fear. She hesitated. The cards sat there, staring back at her, like they were waiting for something. What was the catch? But she wasn't sure she could walk away. Something deep inside her told her this was her chance.
With a shaky hand, she picked a card.
The man's smile widened. "Good choice."
He didn't say anything else. For a moment, Lena thought it might be over, that maybe she had made a mistake. But then, the room around her shifted. It wasn't anything visible, not at first, but she felt it—like the walls were pressing in. The air grew heavier. Her chest tightened, her breath coming faster, and the man's eyes never left her face.
Then, it came.
The whispers, sharp and sudden, like a thousand voices, though none were actually speaking. No words formed, just raw emotion, like they were feeding off her fear, off the hesitation that had taken root in her heart. Her heart slammed against her ribs. Her skin crawled.
The man's lips twitched. "The game's begun. Don't stop until the end."
Lena's blood ran cold.
Don't stop? What did he mean?
But it was too late to ask. She had already made her choice, and now she had to follow through.
The room seemed to grow colder, the cards on the table rearranging themselves. No. She could see it now. They were moving on their own. Lena's stomach churned as the floor beneath her feet seemed to shift. Everything blurred around her. The man's face twisted, his expression turning dark, hollow. The light overhead flickered, casting sharp shadows against the walls.
Lena reached out, grabbing at the table for support. The air seemed thick, like she was underwater, and her limbs felt heavy. The cards on the table came together, stacking on top of one another like they were alive.
A voice echoed in her mind. "The game has no end."
Suddenly, the man slammed his hand down onto the table, causing the cards to scatter across the floor. "Find the answer, Lena. Or it'll find you."
Her eyes darted around, panic rising in her chest. What was this? What was happening to her?
Her fingers trembled as she picked up another card from the floor. This one was different, older, its surface cracked and torn. She held it up, her pulse racing.
"Good choice," the man repeated, though his voice sounded distant, disconnected.
The room warped again, pulling her into a deeper, darker place. She couldn't tell what was real anymore. The walls bent and stretched, the floor beneath her cracked open. In the distance, she could hear voices—soft, mocking, empty. A sound like dry leaves, scraping against each other.
The man's voice was distant but clear, now echoing all around her. "You're losing, Lena."
Her head spun. Sweat dripped down her face. She wanted to scream but couldn't find her voice. Her thoughts tangled in knots.
The cards scattered, fluttering across the floor like brittle leaves caught in an unseen wind. Each one she picked up felt colder, heavier than the last. Her hands were raw from touching them, the sharp edges of the paper leaving small cuts in her fingers. Blood trickled down, pooling in the cracks of the floor.
"There's no escape," the man's voice cracked. "You never should've played."
The room pressed in tighter. Her eyes blurred. The walls began to twist, stretching outward, growing in unnatural ways. The air was thick, impossible to breathe. Her pulse pounded in her temples. The man's figure faded in and out of view, his form growing taller, then smaller, as if he were a mere illusion.
Lena stumbled back, her vision failing. She reached out for anything to steady herself. Her hand brushed against the floor, her fingers brushing the cards that had fallen. She felt something cold and slick beneath them.
Her breath hitched as she looked down.
The cards weren't just paper anymore. They were flesh, twitching under her fingertips, alive, moving. It was too much. She couldn't stop shaking, couldn't stop herself from reaching for more, pulling them closer to her.
The game was never meant to end. It wasn't something you played to win. It was something you were trapped in.
Lena stumbled forward, her legs failing her as she collapsed to the ground, her body cold and stiff. The cards smothered her, crawled across her skin, burrowing into her flesh. She could feel them twisting, cutting through her veins.
Her screams died in her throat, swallowed by the dark.
In the distance, she thought she heard the man laughing.
But it wasn't his voice anymore. It was a chorus of them.
And they were all waiting for her.
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