Lucky rolls

A pair of dice rolled on the table. Lucky moved his hand back and set it on one end of the flat surface. His eyes moved up to the old man before him. The grey eyes on that ghostly pale face were staring at the boy with an unsettling neutrality.

"You got two ones? You lost again." the old man stated blankly.

It's not like Lucky couldn't see it. The man was just rubbing salt in the wound. The boy frowned and slumped back into his chair. It felt like he hasn't done that in a while. His brown eyes wandered around the room. He then returned his gaze to the table and the dice. Something in his head told him to roll the dice again, but that voice was weaker than usual. Instead of rolling, he gazed closely at the pattern of the tablecloth. It was covered in small yellow flowers with green stems. Too bad that lovely pattern was overshadowed by the age of the tablecloth and the forgotten stains that were barely visible under a layer of dust.

"Are you going to roll again?" the old man asked emotionlessly.

"What's up with the table?" Lucky asked curiously.

This drew a different reaction from the adult. The pale white features spelled out confusion caused by the boy's sudden question.

"It's good enough to roll your dice on." he said. His face returned to its previous state quite quickly.

Lucky was not satisfied with that answer. Despite that, he rolled again.

"Two ones." the old man said robotically.

The boy's hand moved back to the table's edge and his eyes began to wander once again. This time Lucky showed less interest in the results of his roll. His eyes moved to an antiquated clock on the wall behind him. It's almost as if Lucky couldn't hear the ticking of it before, but the clock was always there, wasn't it? It doesn't matter. The young one's attention was drawn to that circle of black scratched up plastic. The hands of the clock were both broken, resting at the bottom of the inside of the clock, but the clock kept ticking.

"What time is it?" he asked curiously.

"Time to roll your dice." the old man answered without a moment of hesitation.

Lucky turned back to the table and paused. Something was going through his head, but whatever it was he shook it off and rolled the dice.

"Two ones." the old man repeated like a parrot.

"Those dice have to be weighted or something." Lucky expressed his annoyance. How could he get three pairs of one in a row?

"They're not. You just have to roll again and see if you get something different." the grandpa said in opposition to the boy's attitude.

That response prompted Lucky to look around once again. This time his eyes wandered over to the window on his right. How long has that been there? It's not surprising that the boy didn't notice much about the window though. After all the view outside was incredibly dull. All he could see were empty streets littered with cracks and holes, buildings that had collapsed in on themselves, a grey sky that seemed bright, despite the clear lack of a sun, and no soul in sight. Lucky turned back to the table, this time his gaze met with the old man's.

"Where are we? What happened to the buildings outside?" Lucky questioned with a worried voice.

The old man stared at the boy's concerned expression for a minute before answering.

"Nothing. We are sitting down, waiting for you to roll again."

The boy's expression turned to sadness. He was getting the same unhelpful answers and yet he moved on, because the man's answers would always sound so final. However, this time it felt so unfair to just drop the topic.

"I won't." Lucky said defiantly.

"What else do you have to do?" the grandpa asked with annoyance in his voice.

"I'll go for a walk."

"You can't. You can only roll" the old man quickly stated and his face returned to its original neutral state.

The man was right. Lucky tried to move his feet but he couldn't feel them. He couldn't feel his legs. It's not like he knew how they felt either. It's as if they never existed, but they are clearly there when he looks down. Come to think of it, he couldn't feel his arms in the same manner. It's as if they never existed. None of his limbs were simply paralyzed. If they were, then he wouldn't be able to roll the dice. He couldn't feel his upper body or head either. He was a brain in a box and that's all he knew, but couldn't even feel. There was nothing that would assure him that he is there, that he is alive, that he can move or that he can breathe.

"Who are you?" Lucky asked with a panicked voice.

"I'm just a man who's waiting for you to roll." the old guy gave another unhelpful answer.

Lucky felt like crying, but he didn't cry. He couldn't cry. The grandpa stared at the boy for as long as the kid breathed heavily, saying nothing. After what seemed like hours, Lucky could finally start to calm his breaths. His eyes wandered again to distract himself from all of this. This time he was looking to his left. The two were sitting in a kitchen, but the cabinets were wide open and empty. The stove seemed rusty and disgusting, as if it hasn't been maintained in many years. The fridge at the opposite end of the room was opened, empty and broken. There was nothing else to note, but a door at the end of the room.

"Why is there nothing to eat?" he continued to question.

"Why would there be? There's only us and the dice for you to roll." the old man answered and followed it with an awkward chuckle, as if the boy's questions were silly to him.

"Where does the door lead?"

"It doesn't matter. The dice are in this room. Roll them" the man said strictly and his smile faded.

Lucky looked back down at the table and took a deep breath, before reaching out to take the dice. He shook the two little cubes in both of his hands, letting them rattle around before he rolled them onto the table. One thump after the other, they rolled towards the center of the table and teased the possibility that they'd fall on a pair of sixes. As fate would have it, the last dice settled down on the table.

"A pair of ones." the old man stated blankly. "Try again"