Greed

Greed
By: George Jung

An island in the sun. A place where only the wind and the wild men go. An island wherein lies a pool of reflection and the monster of a reason. I myself, a fugitive madman in a waistcoat. My profession: a master of games. Are men not born of games? Nothing else. Every child knows games are more noble than work. He knows too that the worth or merit of the game is not inherent in the game itself but rather in the value of that which is put at hazard. Games of chance such as this require a wager in order to intensify their meaning.The wager being life itself. I chose to play a thousand lifetimes ago and was still hard at it sitting at the table with pirates, cut-throats and master thieves, all my comrades and opponents. I did not come easy to this place in time. It was all by trial of worth and risk, having only your life to wager, where a wrong choice swallows up a game, player and all.I ask you: what more validation of a man's worth could there be? Ah! The enchantment of the game. It is not a drug itself when played to its ultimate state and surely leaves no argument as to the winners and losers. To win is ultimate. The winner becomes a God driven by a torch whose brightness sets back the stars in their sockets. What is the fate to be for? A player in the greed game? Let me tell you, friends, trust me in this for I know it to be true. I will not chat you of such knowledge. It all comes to an end as games of course always do. When the others have gone and only the game is left with its solitary participant. A solitary game without opponent, even the rules are at hazard, and the players become emptiness and despair and all the riddles are blind. A voice will scream out, 'How long has it been?' And you'll wonder how long has it been since you've been home where no one lives anyway!