There once was a man who had nothing left to lose.
I’d like to say we have all been there, but that’s not true. The taste of success is something you can only experience for yourself. Second hand victory can be inspiring. The telling of legends can birth greatness in souls of those who are searching. But when someone tastes success themselves, an insatiable desire consumes them. They are no more who they were. Things are different.
The man had tasted success. He reveled in it. His confidence soared. At first, he felt like he had found the food that fell from the table of the gods. As he won more victories he became a man who walked among gods. Soon he was that man no longer… but he himself became a god, demanding the worship of the gods he once sought to emulate. And the gods could not tolerate this.
With great power comes a greater conspiracy. The gods and goddesses joined with the dark forces to unleashed their combined fury on his soul. Side by side they worked against him. Love and Lust. Influence and Control. Satisfaction and Greed. Appetite and Gluttony. His downfall was planned, purposed, and pitiful.
The man lost everything. He was so busy, entertained by the seductions of the deities, that he didn’t notice the smoke over in a distant corner of his life. A spark had begun. His destruction was determined. The fire spread. His life’s work succumbed to the flames. His family consumed by the fires set by gods. His health suffered from the smoke of the fires eating at every part of his life. As quickly as it had begun, the fire snuffed itself out, but not until there was nothing left.
Desolate. There really is no other way to describe it. The man walked a busy street unnoticed by all who passed him. His eyes were empty. He walked no certain direction. He was going nowhere… because there was nowhere to go. He had lost everything dear to him. There was nothing left. His heart was dry. His passion was lost. He was all but dead.
That was when he realized he was still living. He still have one sliver of life left. With that sliver of life he found a purpose. He climbed to a great height and threw himself to the ground. This was his last great feat. His last moment of control. He could show the gods that he still had power even if the power was to end the only thing he had left.
He fell from the great height and his body connected with the unforgiving ground. That last sliver of life escaped his soul. He lay there, a man who lost everything.
The gods and demons walked past his lifeless form. A lesson had been taught! To elevate oneself above the powers of heaven and hell was foolish! This man would serve as an example to the rest of the mortal men and women. They left his body to rot.
All the gods and demons left him to decay and return to dust.
An outlier watched.
Her name was Chance. She couldn’t be a goddess. Her methods were too chaotic to be embraced by the clique of higher beings. She also wasn’t demon because despite her chaos, she wished for her ways to end with good. In her heart, she belonged to no one. She was wild and unrivaled. She took every opportunity to disrupt the expected. She spun every dial. She rolled every dice. She played every game. She hoped for the best, but the odds never swayed her.
She walked up to the man. He was just a shell now. She wondered… What if she gave him a chance to do it all again. What would happen? Would he ruin it all again? Would he find the same path and run full speed down it again? Would he learn from his past and pursue a life of humility or pride? Would he learn to love? Would he learn to give? Would he choose good, evil, or maybe find the best of both? Would he become an outlier too and give others a chance? Could a man who had nothing more to lose even accept the chance to live once more?
Chance walked up to him and knelt beside him. She leaned over his lifeless form and pressed her lips to his. She breathed into his lungs. She filled his soul with the best she could offer: a piece of her essence, a part of her chaos, just one single chance.
And the dead man woke…
