A Winning Ticket Read Online Free PDF Page B

recliner. A small edge of paper extended from between his middle and ring fingers.
    The ticket.
    Benjamin had forgotten about it in all the excitement of the last few minutes. He began to pry Harrison’s fingers away from the balled-up lottery ticket. It was wrinkled badly, but otherwise unharmed. It had been shielded from the bloodbath by Harrison’s own hand. That was good. It would have been awkward explaining to the authorities why the winning lottery ticket was covered in blood when he went to claim his prize.
    He stared at the ticket. It was finally his.
    All of it.
    He would be able to keep the farm until he died. No more worries about money. Fate had indeed shined on him, and everything had worked out in his favor.
    He smiled.
    He turned toward the bookshelf that sat just to the left of the television. He would place the ticket in one of the books for safekeeping until the cleanup was finished. As he took his first step, he felt his right foot slip on the blood-soaked hardwood floor.
    He lost his balance.
    He felt his feet fly out from under him, and he landed hard on the blue tarpaulin. He tried to pull himself off the floor but was unable to. He realized he must have had the breath knocked out of him because he was having difficulty breathing.
    Then he felt a warm liquid move over his lips.
    The taste of copper flooded his mouth.
    He moved his left hand toward his mouth and wiped it across his lips. When he pulled it away, frothy, bright red blood covered his fingertips. He spit onto the tarp, and a stream of blood poured from his mouth. Maybe he had knocked a tooth out.
    Then he saw it.
    The butcher knife was plunged deep into his chest, near his heart.
    He must have been carrying it around in his left hand ever since he had attacked Harrison. He had not even noticed he was still holding it.
    And now it was buried deep inside him.
    He coughed again. Spit up more blood. Coughed. Spit. He couldn’t catch his breath. He was drowning.
    He tried to raise himself off the floor once more, but collapsed again for good. He was too weak to move now.
    His vision began to blur, and the dark tunnel he had experienced right before he attacked Harrison returned. He could barely see the television.
    Channel 6 was coming out of a commercial break, and he could just make out Melissa Black and John Jackson sitting behind the news desk.
    His breathing was becoming more labored.
    His pulse weakening.
    The tunnel surrounding him closed completely, plunging him into eternal darkness.
    His sense of sound was still functioning enough that he could hear Melissa begin to speak.
    “Welcome back. We have a slight correction to make. Earlier in the broadcast we unintentionally aired the incorrect lottery numbers on our graphic prior to the commercial break. The correct numbers are 26, 30, 49, 15, 45, and the Superball is 24. Channel 6 sincerely apologizes for any inconvenience this may have caused our viewers.”

Author’s Note
    I got the idea for this story while driving home from work one day. The nation was in the midst of lottery mania. If I remember correctly, the jackpot was somewhere around $375 million, and I have to admit, it was fun to think about what I would do with that much money.
    But as I was driving down the road and listening to the radio reports of people standing in line just to purchase a chance at all that money, I started thinking. What would happen if two people with a seemingly ordinary relationship won the money? What changes would it bring to their lives? What hidden character flaws would rise to the surface? And, most importantly, what lengths would they go to in order to keep it? Since I’m a fan of thrillers, my mind naturally drifted to the darker side of things.
    I have to thank all of my friends and family, especially my wife and parents, who encouraged me to keep writing. Without their constant nagging, I doubt I would have ever published anything! I am also grateful to my editor, Winslow Eliot, for