First Place:

Carpet Prayers

By Jay McKenzie

He crushes minutes under the soles of his lucky shoes kid, and minutes turn to hours. Down here, coins go to die by the glue of a spilled mojito. You are well versed in mules and heels and scuffed synthetic office shoes that kick the joy-swallowers when luck is a whore not a lady. You gather fallen coins, hold long-dead leaders in your palms, press them together in metallic kisses urging them to mate and birth enough for a hot dog, a burger. Soon kid, he says when you ask how much longer Dad? to the side of his knee.

Second Place:

Down a Suit

By Maddie Logemann

He wears hearts in his sleeve. Pipe smoke shrouds the spades slipping his jacket lining. Diamonds ring his throat, white in a choker, red under his collar.

He wins, wins, wins, his heaping chips glorious.

Emerald eyes pin him and glitter, thrilling, as players peel sourly from the table. The dealer sees him.

World blurring, his back hits bathroom marble. Hands dip his waistband; he pants feverishly.

Then, his vision whites, not pleasure but an ace of clubs between two fingers. One he hazily remembers hiding down his briefs.

“Cheating bastard,” the dealer laughs and kisses him, stinging, with teeth.

Third Place:

The Surveillance Game

By Lisa H. Owens

Eddie slipped off cheap loafers and flopped back in the worn task chair fronting a wall of monitors. Slow night, he thought, as he sparked the first of many cigarettes he’d smoke during his shift. 

The regulars were all there. He blew smoke-rings, watching Ms. Henderson. He always focused on her—Zone-Six—simultaneously working two slots, as a pile of lipstick stained filters overflowed the ashtray. 

She stood and turned to stretch, her face on full display. Eddie jumped up, zoomed in on her lips, then paused the screen. M·A·C Ruby Woo. He knew it! He’d recognize that shade anywhere.

Fourth Place:

Genting Highlands, Pahang

By Roxanne Kubiak

There's only one legal Casino in Malaysia,

The OG Genting Casino.

The Lim family who own it, also own the hill it crowns.

When it's misty, it's lit, a castle in the sky.

There are rumours the Lim family sealed golden coffins in the walls,

To steal the punter's luck.

When I climb by cable car to see this apex, with its LED sky, where stacks of 100 ringgit notes are pushed across the counter like unwanted children.

All the mystery and fable is reduced like the burning embers of a cigarette, held in yellow, stained, shaking fingers.