This is my entry into @Lymmerik's Write It In Steem Contest

You can find the contest link Here

This was a photo prompt contest. The photo is below.

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Source: Photos by ZoYa

The Devil And Drake LaFoe

The cards hit the table and Drake LaFoe knew right away that his life had just gotten a lot simpler. That ever-so-familiar metallic taste filled his mouth again as he tried to stand. It was jacks over tens this time. The one-eyed jack was throwing Drake a condescending sideways stare. The cards always seemed to judge a little more harshly than did the opponents. Right now, Drake LaFoe felt a look of almost sympathy coming from the victor across the table, and that made his blood boil. He had to get out of there quick.

Drake's head was pounding as he made his way through the smoky hall and out the back door, into the alley where his car was parked. He still hadn't felt the loss; he was still wrapping his head around it. Three hours ago things had been so different. With fifty thousand in chips sitting in front of him, he had felt unstoppable. But one hand after another, the cards let him down, as if they were conspiring against him.

Who's gonna dig you out this time?

That had been the last of the inheritance money. She hadn't left him much, but since she was gone forever, it was up to him to waste it in any way he chose. Tonight he had wasted that money with terrific success. Mom would have been livid.

When he reached the car, Drake went straight for his gin. The little silver flask was always there for him, and it always gave him the perspective he needed. He never drank at the table. He raised the flask to his lips and tilted it, but nothing came out. He was out of gin.

A desperate cry of anguish twisted its way through Drake LaFoe's body as the reality of his situation landed on him. He didn't know where to go or what to do, and as he sat there motionless behind the wheel in the dark alley, all remaining hope left him. Mom's money was gone, he would be evicted tomorrow, and he was out of gin.

He needed a drink, and he needed one now. Completely and desperately, he wished for gin. It's not as if he were expecting gin to magically appear; all he knew was he needed it.

At that moment a huge crow flew straight into the windshield of his parked car. A large crack appeared in the windshield, and the crow let out a terrible scream as it fell to the ground, twitching and dying. Seconds later there was a loud thunderclap, although Drake couldn't see any lightning.

The car was then filled with the subtle smell of slightly rotten meat. Drake Lafoe looked to his right, and there was a young man sitting in the car next to him, surveying him with a smirk.

Oddly, Drake was not startled by the presence of this man in his car. The man wore a top hat with a feather. He wore chains and rings that clanged together as he fidgeted, appearing excited, unable to keep still.

"Call me Scratch," he quickly said. "Let's go to your place."

So Drake LaFoe drove the short distance to his apartment, feeling oddly comfortable with the mysterious character to his right.

They pulled up in front of Drake's apartment, and Scratch led the way up the dark and dingy stairway to his door. Drake could have sworn that Scratch didn't even touch the door knob on his way in. The door just opened on its own for him.

They were inside the apartment, but Drake didn't feel like he was home. This wasn't going to be his place for much longer, now that he had no money. He imagined his landlord would be coming in full force tomorrow.

It was the middle of the night, but Drake wasn't tired. The two of them played cards for what seemed like hours. They weren't playing for money. Drake wasn't even sure if they were playing for anything, but it felt right. This mysterious new friend seemed to understand him better than anyone he'd ever known.

"So you're a loser," Scratch said quietly from the couch. It wasn't a question, but it wasn't exactly a statement either.

After a pause, Drake wheezed, "What if I am? What can you do for me?"

Drake LaFoe did not notice the smile on old Scratch's face growing immensely, and he did not notice the gradual darkening of the room that was happening all around him. One thing he did notice was that the flask he was still holding in his left hand suddenly became heavy, as if it were filled again.

"I can give you what you want," the Devil said slowly through a toothy smile.

As Drake LaFoe raised the now-full flask to his lips, he began to feel better.

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