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Slot Machine Nightmare
An unreleased short story from the book:
High Stakes Horror Dark Short Stories of Gambling’s Grip
The first time Rachel walked into the casino, it was out of curiosity more than anything else. She had been passing by for months, watching the people go in and out, their faces a mixture of joy and despair. She had never considered herself the gambling type, but the allure of those bright lights and the constant hum of excitement tugged at something deep inside her, something she couldn’t explain.
It started with a single pull. She remembered the sound—the soft click of the machine as the reels spun. She felt a strange twinge of excitement, the pull of possibility. It wasn’t about the money; she had told herself that. It was just the thrill of it, the anticipation of what could happen, of what might happen.
Her first win wasn’t large, but it felt like the world was at her fingertips. The coins rattled into the tray with a sound that reverberated in her chest. It wasn’t much—just a few hundred dollars—but it was enough. Enough to make her feel alive, to make her feel like she had control over something in her life. The victories were fleeting, but the feeling lingered.
From that moment on, Rachel was hooked.
She found herself returning again and again, each visit more frequent, each moment more desperate. The machines called to her, their flashing lights and the rhythmic whirl of the wheels filling the empty spaces inside her. At first, it was just an hour here or there, but soon she found herself losing entire afternoons, entire evenings, to the flashing screens and the ever-present sound of coins clinking into trays.
It wasn’t just about the game anymore. It was the escape—the escape from everything else. From her job, which she hated. From the memories of her broken marriage. From the gnawing loneliness that clung to her like a shadow. The more she played, the more she wanted to play. The more she needed to play.
As time went on, Rachel’s life began to slip through her fingers like sand. She stopped showing up to work, then stopped answering phone calls from friends. She neglected the few relationships she had left, all of them buried beneath a growing obsession with the machines. They consumed her thoughts, her every waking moment. Her mind was always somewhere else, always plotting the next trip to the casino, always focused on that next big win. The nightmares started then.
At first, they were just dreams—fleeting images of reels spinning, of lights flashing in her face, of the sound of the machine whirring as it swallowed her money. But soon, they became more vivid, more real. In the dreams, she could feel the cool metal of the lever beneath her fingers, her heart racing as the symbols lined up, one by one. And when they didn’t line up, when the machine flashed “game over,” it felt like a blow to her chest. It was always the same: the crushing sense of loss, the panic, the emptiness.
She woke up from those dreams covered in sweat, her heart pounding. But the worst part wasn’t the nightmares. It was what they represented—her complete loss of control. The real world was closing in on her, and all she could do was chase the fleeting hope that one more pull would fix everything.
One evening, after another long night at the casino, Rachel found herself sitting alone in her apartment. The lights were dim, and the sound of the machines echoed in her ears even though they were miles away. She hadn’t eaten in days, hadn’t slept, and as she looked around at the cluttered, empty space that used to be her home, she realized she had nothing left. She had sold her car, emptied her bank account, and pawned nearly everything of value.
The phone rang. It was her sister, Anna. Rachel let it ring and ring, until the voicemail beeped. She hadn’t spoken to Anna in weeks, not since she had promised her she would stop. But Rachel knew she wasn’t going to stop. Not now. Not when there was one more chance, one more pull, one more opportunity to escape.
Her hands trembled as she picked up the phone, staring at the screen. Anna had left a message, but Rachel couldn’t bring herself to listen to it. She couldn’t face the truth of it. The truth that she had become someone else. Someone she didn’t recognize anymore.
Rachel walked into the kitchen, grabbed a few coins from the jar on the counter, and dropped them into her pocket. She needed to get out of there. She needed to go back to the casino, to the machines that had become her only source of comfort, her only escape from the nightmare she had created. She stepped out into the cold night air, the weight of the world pressing down on her, and for the first time, she realized how far gone she was.
The casino was open all night, and the moment she stepped inside, the familiar sounds welcomed her like an old friend. The neon lights blinked in time with the rhythm of her pulse, and as she made her way to the nearest machine, the world fell away. She sat down and put her coins in, her fingers trembling as she pulled the lever. The symbols spun, and her heart raced. The machine whirred, then slowed. One by one, the symbols aligned—just like she had dreamed.
The screen flashed. Jackpot.
For a brief moment, Rachel felt the exhilaration, the high of the win. It wasn’t much, but it was something. It was enough to keep her going, to make her believe that she could turn things around. But the moment passed, and the emptiness returned, just as it always did. The win was hollow, fleeting, a false promise of salvation.
Rachel stood up and walked away from the machine, her head spinning, her heart racing. She didn’t know how much time had passed. She didn’t know how much money she had left. All she knew was that she couldn’t stop, not now, not when she was so close to winning it all back. She felt the pull of the machines, the lure of the next game, the next chance to fix everything.
And as she walked deeper into the casino, the lights and sounds blurring together, Rachel knew that the nightmares would never stop. She was trapped in a cycle, a machine of her own making, and the only thing that had ever felt real—the only thing that had ever truly mattered—was the next spin, the next pull, the next false promise that she could win her life back.
But in the end, Rachel knew, even as the lights flickered around her and the machines whispered her name, that she was already lost. The nightmare was real. And there was no escape.
If you enjoyed this short story you will probably like our latest release available now:
High Stakes Horror Dark Short Stories of Gambling’s Grip
$3.99
Step into the shadowy underbelly of the gambling world with High Stakes Horror: Dark Short Stories of Gambling’s Grip. This chilling anthology delves deep into the perilous allure of games of chance, unraveling the lives shattered by addiction, obsession, and desperation. Featuring a number of meticulously crafted tales, each story paints a vivid portrait of individuals ensnared by the seductive pull of gambling, facing harrowing consequences that spiral beyond their darkest fears.
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