Twelve Shards

For twenty-five years, Archie played the same lottery numbers. Never won a damn thing.

One night, while walking home, he spotted a flickering streetlamp with a man below – weathered, cold, and all too familiar.

“Archie,” the man rasped.

“I know you?”

The man turned and vanished. At Archie’s feet lay a hand mirror framed in black twisting metal.

Archie looked around, hesitating, picked it up and brought it home.

That night, Archie stared into the glass. His reflection shifted. He saw himself buried in hundred dollar bills.

A whisper escaped his lips, “Is this what will happen?”

His voice emerged from the frame, “This is what can happen.”

~~~

Heart pounding, Archie withdrew everything he had. At the casino, he bet it all on red twelve – his lucky number.

The wheel spun. The ball clicked, tumbled… double zero. House wins.

Outside, he screamed raw and smashed the mirror. His sobs racked his chest until the TV behind him announced the lottery results.

"Twelve," the anchor said. Then, one by one, Archie’s usual numbers followed.

In all the excitement, he forgot to buy his ticket.

He choked back a cry, but in every mirror shard at his feet, his reflection only laughed.