"You think you're so good, don't you?" The drunk was in Rob's face.
"Come on, mate! It's just darts! I was lucky on the doubles was all!"
Rob ducked to avoid the drunk's fist. Luckily, he was quick.
"All right, you!" Bill the landlord said, as he took the arm of the belligerent loser. "That's enough of that! Time to go home!"
No-one messed with Bill.
In the shadow of the snug, a dark stranger watched the commotion with a view to adding more mischief to the night.
As Bill was unceremoniously heaving the drunk into the street, he stepped forward.
"Evening," he said to Rob who was about to take a drink but instead felt compelled to turn.
"How do," Rob said, grinning. His winnings poked out of his top pocket.
It was lucky Rob had had a drink as it acted like a filter, a veil, muting his intuition or he may have been more wary.
"I wonder, would you care to play me at darts? I'm quite good with sharp points."
Rob swigged and shrugged. "Ah, why not? I'm on top of the world!"
"Indeed you are, so how about we play for it?"
Rob had no idea what he meant. The wind started whistling and the lights flickered.
*
The mood was tense. It was the last game of three. A small group had gathered around the two players, the devil-may-care youth and a man who looked suspiciously devilish.
A storm raged outside and the windows flashed.
It was 1-1.
First to the oche, the man.
180, matched by Rob.
Second throw, 180 matched by Rob.
Rain lashed the windows. No ribald shouts of "180!" were given. Rob was still smiling, playing his best darts ever.
The opponent, however, was sweating. He suspected divine intervention.
3 darts to win. Treble 20, treble 19, double 12.
He threw. Missed on the double.
Rob's turn. The thunk as each dart hit its target was met with a muted gasp.
As the last sank into the double, the crowd engulfed Rob and cheered with his victory. Rob looked round to commiserate but the man had gone. All that remained was the smell of sulphur.
***
366 words
180 stories! I had to do something with the 180 that was darts related. It would have been churlish not to.
Thanks for stopping by! If you do read this, please leave a comment as I love to interact with my readers.
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Comments (14)
That was so cool! A close encounter for Rob.
Well-wrought! Reminds me of the Charlie Daniels Band song, "The Devil Went Down to Georgia". Love it! "The Devil bowed his head because he knew that he'd been beat And he laid that golden fiddle on the ground at Johnny's feet Johnny said, "Devil, just come on back if you ever wanna try again I done told you once, you son of a bitch, I'm the best there's ever been"
Oh!! I love this Rachel!! It was tense and a thrilling read! Great work!!
A supernatural victory! Love this one, congrats on so many wonderful stories :)
Darts in culture: usually it's either Martin Amis, or trite memories of Bullseye on a Sunday tea-time (yes, nostalgia is fun, but maybe we can move on from what we could have won?). This was neither, and all the better for it. (Note for Dharrsheena - if the pub is traditional enough, the egg might be pickled rather than rotten. I've never been brave enough to order a pickled egg, though. Even the idea sounds vile!)
180 stories!!! Wow! You’re awesome! And what a belter today’s story was!
Great 180th story! Just a few steps to the halfway point! Major props to you for taking up such a challenge! I’m not familiar with the dart game specifics but even so this was an engaging contest with some intriguing characters!
Such an awesome twist on a game if darts!
Beating the devil at darts!
I love the atmosphere you created. As usual, it seemed effortless and kept me hooked. I have many theories. I feel as though he has somehow sealed his fate.
I’m with Angie, it reminded me of Charlie Daniel’s song. Congrats on 180, Rachel!
The milestone woven into the tale--deftly done! Publish ever, perish never!
Great job (180) & story… I had to research oche & 180 in darts!😉 This reminded me of the song “The Devil went down to Georgia”… challenging the Devil to a duel.
Congratulations on your 180th story! 🎉💖🎊🎉💖🎊 Only today I knew what an oche is. Anyway, who was that man? Why did he disappear? Why was there smell of sulphur? Is he a rotten egg or did he fart before leaving?