“Joey, what’s Thorn gonna do?”
My character sheet stares at me. What can I do? I used up my class feats last turn. HP’s down to 7. Three goblins are ganging up on Jesse’s wizard. Jay’s cleric is already knocked down. The one exit is on the other side of the room.
“I guess I’ll make another attack.” I grab my die. It’s a weighty thing, made with demascus steel.
“Remember, Armor Class is 12.” Brenna’s eyes were just as desperate as we all felt. She designed the encounter to bloody our noses before the boss, but our rolls have not been kind.
My die clatters on the table. I hold my breath. A lone eye surfaces on the scratched metal.
“Natural one,” I groan. My third fail in a row. The whole table sighs.
“Thorn raises his axe, his grip slips, it drops on his head.”
I glare at the die. Anyone else would leave it in dice jail for the rest of the session, but not me. What are the odds of a fourth natural one in a row? One in a million? In two?
Jesse rolls a natural 20 and knocks the goblins away. Jay’s death roll is a success and they’re back up. And suddenly it’s my turn again.
“C’mon, gimme something,” I whisper as I throw the die again. The Eye of Failure resurfaces. Brenna frowns.
“Roll it again,” she says. The die clacks on wood. A natural one again.
“Guess it’s weighted?” Jay shrugs.
Jesse grabs it and gives it a roll. 12. I try again. 1.
Jay tries, Brenna tries, we all give it half a dozens rolls. All of theirs are normal: 7, 14, 2. All of mine are natural 1. All the while, the die rattles like laughter.
…
I go home. I give it one more roll. The eye winks. My own eye twitches. I roll it again. The same. Again. And again. And again.
…
By now I have rolled this die a thousand times. Even a weighted die rolls differently occasionally. But not this one. I bring it to work. My coworkers all roll differently. But for me it’s always the same.
…
It’s my wedding day. I have rolled it every morning and every night for the past ten years. It has never wavered. Brenna and I roll during our vows. It’s nerdy, but screw it. It’s our wedding. She rolls a 13. I smile at my natural 1.
…
Harry is five now. He loves playing with that die. Every time it rolls a natural one he laughs and laughs.
…
Our kids are both in college. Brenna and I have started a DnD group with a few other parents. We play every week. I don’t use the metal die too much anymore. But my birthday’s coming up. I’ll roll it again for old time’s sake.
…
I lost the die in the move. It’s here somewhere, in one of these boxes. Sometimes I miss it, but mostly I don’t think about it anymore. Dealing with Brenna’s health issues takes up most of my energy these days.
…
I found it two weeks after the funeral. I was going through her things and there it was, in some shoebox alongside some knickknacks she’d collected a dozen years ago. I try it one more time. Maybe this time it’ll be different. It’s not.
…
Jay came to visit. They’ve gotten so old. When did we all get so old? They chuckle at my nightstand.
“The two constants in your life,” they say, “right next to each other.”
“Just one constant now,” I remind them. I give it a roll. We can’t help but laugh.
…
So, this is what my dad felt like. Everyone gathered around. Waiting for the beep to stop. Some eyes are wet, others are fixed on the ground. It’s nice to see everyone together again, even if it’s for the last time.
I make a big show of rolling the die. I don’t bother looking at the result. But everyone else does. Someone gasps.
“It’s about time your luck turned,” Jesse says. I grunt and take a look.
It’s a natural twenty.
“You hear that, Brenna?” I whisper. “This time, those goblins will feel my wrath.”
Corey Laisure 