Ace of Spades I: a micro novel by Brian Powell

The Ace of Spades

Hugh Quinn sat down at his kitchen table and looked at the unopened deck of cards. He had worn the last one out.

They were his lifeline, the only way he could function in the world. Without playing cards, his life as he knew it would be over.

He studied the Flamingo Hilton logo at the corner and remembered them as a “gift” from Bugsy’s old casino for being dealt a suited blackjack. A small consolation for the $100 he gave the casino. The cards, and a watered-down margarita, were all he had to show for that afternoon.

He emptied the cards onto the table, but he only cared about one card. The Ace of Spades. He needed to see that large black spade in the middle of the card. There was an “A” and a smaller spade in two corners, but it was that main spade that was critical for his sanity.

He found it right away, as his eyes have been well trained. He picked up the card. So crisp and clean. Quinn stood up from the table and walked over to his favorite spot where the natural light and his colorful mid-century retro art print from a local thrift store best allowed the Ace to work its magic. The blending of the bold colors with unusual shapes in an abstract pattern had the desired effect of making it much more difficult to stay focused on the card.

He held up the card, and extended it about 15 inches away from his eyes. He held it tight with his right hand. The eyes focused on the single, black spade. He set his iPhone timer to one minute and hit start. He then began to move his head slightly back and forth while keeping the card still. The eyes never left the spade. The minute was up. He sat back and relaxed for a minute, taking a sip of coffee. Then he repeated the process, but this time his head went up and down for a minute. Then back and forth, and up and down. After four installments, he was done.

Quinn placed the card in the clean nightclub ashtray he bought at the same time as his poster. He sat down, as his head was stirred up and he was dizzy. But the uncomfortable sensation is what he sought and desired, for 20 minutes later the pain would transform into a couple of hours of partial stability with a normal equilibrium. That is until the dizziness would return with a vengeance, making it difficult to drive, work and even be around other people because their movement could send him down an unwanted dark spiral. He remembers the experience of that roller coaster and water ride combination at a California amusement park and how its speed and jerkiness caused a spinning sensation that lasted for days. He now understood why they posted warning signs for roller coasters and vowed that would never happen again. He will never forget when those dancers formed in front of the band and he had to look at their fast motion and could barely enjoy himself.

But at this moment his balance was OK. He walked out his condo door and into the beautiful sunshine of an idyllic Phoenix spring morning. For a minute, the world was calm and stable, and Quinn was at peace.