July 1, 2026

Oliver's Stairs
by Ivan Richardson

A mysterious woman leads a gambler toward answers he may not truly want.

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Oliver's Stairs

“Your luck will run out,” everyone had told Oliver. He agreed, but things were going so well.  He’d played blackjack, roulette, even hit some of the slot machines. He’d lost a few, more than he’d normally be able to afford. But overall he’d made a profit, even if his drinks brought everything back to neutral. Every rational voice in his head told him to take his small winnings and walk before he hit the cliff edge. But he kept going. 
“Defying the odds is too much fun,” he told himself, but there was more to it than that. He couldn't leave until he knew exactly where that cliff was, until he looked over the edge. 

He was at the bar refilling his courage while deciding what to play next. One hand felt the chips as they lay secure in his jack pocket while the other held a martini. The bar was on a terrace hanging over a windowless expanse of slot machines. The air con did a good job of removing the smell of sweat and excitement. Electric noises muffed the sounds of people celebrating or screaming in frustration, both swearing they’d play just one more game. The card tables were a bit further away to prevent anyone above spying on a player’s hand. 

“One more game.” Put it all on the line. Win or lose he’d go back to his hotel room after one more roll of the dice. He looked for an empty table, and saw her. Drifting across the casino floor in a red polka dot dress, tight round the waist with what looked like petticoats underneath and a lace bow on the neck. He’d never seen anyone dress like that. No phone on her, just a tiny purse in her hand. Her brown hair tied in a bow with skin that glowed in the fluorescent light around her. A powerful odour of lavender, orange and peach rose up as she walked below the terrace. As if psychic she looked straight up at Oliver. Embarrassed at being caught he quickly pulled away from the railing. But he couldn’t look away as she held eye contact. Strangely she didn’t seem to mind, her ruby lips quickly turned to a smile as she stared back up at him. The most beautiful smile he’d ever seen. Then he noticed the ring on her hand, of course she’d be married.

He returned to his drink as she wandered below the terrace and out of sight. He almost dropped the glass in shock as she reappeared at the bar a few minutes later. She was still smiling as she made brief eye contact with Oliver before heading to a lone table. There she looked out across the casino floor with her hands clasped together, playing with her bright red fingernails as if anxious or regretting coming up to the bar. Perhaps she wanted to play at one of the tables but didn’t know how. Every now and then she looked in his direction and gave another sweet smile. Did she want him to come over? She was married, if the ring on her hand was to be believed. But she was still smiling at him as her fingers tapped anxiously on the table.

“One more dice roll,” he nervously walked over.

“Are you looking to play.” He stood on the opposite side of the table, giving her some room in case she wanted him to go away.

“No.” her voice was soft and filled with an inexplicable happiness that reflected her smile. 

“You looked like you were interested?” he asked.

“I thought I was.” She was even more beautiful up close. 

“What do you mean?” 

“I came down here thinking I wanted to play.” 

“That’s why most people come here,” he said. Maybe she was just scared about approaching a table. The first time can be daunting. “I can show you what to do?”

“Oh no. It's ok.” She brought a hand to cover her mouth as a burst of laughter came out.

“Are you ok?” Oliver wondered if he’d done something wrong, or if her joy was more chemically induced. Her eyes seemed focussed and her speech clear. She looked like the most sober person at the bar.

“I’m fine,” she said. “It’s just funny. All this time I wanted to come down here and be involved. And now all I want to do is sit and watch.”

“I’ll leave you to it.” He turned back to the bar.
“
You can sit with me if you like,” she said. “I think I’d like someone to talk to.”

“What’s your name?” He couldn’t help smiling as he sat down opposite her.

“Silvia.” Her perfume was even stronger now he was near. The lavender and orange were overpowering yet he didn’t mind. Staring into her green eyes made him light headed.

“Have you played any games before?” 

“My goodness no,” she laughed. “My husband would never have allowed it.”

“Where is your husband?” His words came out a little blunter than intended.

“Gone.” Her smile dropped but she didn’t look sad. She lifted her hand to study the ring before letting out another burst of laughter. “We came here together. Our last trip.”

“But he’s gone now?” Oliver shifted uneasy in his chair.

“Yes.” She paused as a single tear ran down her cheek. 

"So where are you from?” ask Oliver. 

“I grew up in a little town. You probably wouldn’t have heard of it.” 

“Have you been to the city before?”

“Jack and I came here a few times.”

“Is that your husband?” asked Oliver.

“Yes.”

“The one who’s not here anymore?”

“Yes.” She reached and placed a hand over his. “He’s not here anymore.”

“Excellent,” he smiled. “You were saying you used to come here.”

“Many years ago. So much has changed though.”

Oliver looked in puzzlement at her youthful skin, she couldn’t have been more than 25 years old. He wanted to ask how old she’d been when she met her husband but there’d been enough talk of him already. Instead he imagined they must have met as teens or younger. He could picture her innocent eyes declaring her eternal love as a teenager, then refusing to see that the relationship had grown sour in their adulthood, until the signs were unavoidable. Coming here on a make or break holiday that clearly resulted in the latter.

She was looking back down at the crowd. A woman in a denim jacket and round glasses was coming away from one of the tables. Her hands shook with excitement as clutched a newly acquired pile of chips. Sylvia’s face lit up as she watched the woman almost dance across the casino floor. 

“Not a bad win.” Oliver felt his own fortune in his jacket pocket. 

“It’s her first win isn’t it?” said Syvia. 

“Looks like it.” He watched the woman as she approached a kiosk with her winnings, then she paused and looked back towards the table. Oliver knew the look on her face all too well. Wanting another go, to double her wins. She’d done it once, so it could be done again. His own hands twitched as he watched her deliberate.

“Would you take the money or play again?” asked Syliva.

“Play again. Definitely.”

The woman stood there a few more seconds before continuing to the kiosk to cash.

“Looks like she’s taking the money,” said Silvia. 

“Yeah, I guess she is.” He watched her head to the exit, a content smile on her face. She didn’t even look at the other tables as she walked. “What would you have done?” he asked.

She gave another small laugh. “I don’t know.” Maybe play just more game. “It would be nice to win, just once.”

“Don’t you ever feel like a winner?” 

She went silent , her smile dropped for a moment. “Do you play because you like winning?” she asked.

It was his turn to go silent as he struggled to answer. “Winning feels good,” he said. But he still played even when he lost. “Guess when I’m playing I know who I am. I’m the one playing against the others.”

“Who are you the rest of the time?”

Another pause. “I don’t know.” He still hadn’t found the edge, the boundary of himself.
 “Anyway, are you sure you don’t want to play something? I can help you be a winner.” He changed the subject. 

“That’s sweet. But I don’t have time.” 

“Why?” he asked.

“I have to go back.”

“I thought you said your husband was gone?”

“He is. But I have to go.” 

“Are you afraid of him?” Oliver asked. “Does he hurt you?”

She stared at the table below. Watching the people collect their winnings. “It’s been a journey.” Melancholy spread over her face. “I don’t think I could have done it with anyone else. But I’m glad I got one last chance to come down here and have fun. And meet people like you.” Her sweet smile returned as she looked to Oliver. “But now I need to go.” 

“Go where?” asked Oliver. 

“Back.”

“Can I come back with you?” She was a strange one, but he was hooked on staring into her eyes.

“Oh no.” She gave an embarrassed frown. “I’m sorry. But no.” She leant forward and pressed her lips against his. They were like electricity. He struggled to breath as waves of shock passed through him. “Thank you for talking to me.” 

“Please let me come up with you?”

“No.” She placed hand on his chest. “You have to stay here.”

“Why?”

“You have to stay.” She stood up and left as quickly as she’d arrived.

He knew he should do what she said, get another drink. Look for a final game. But his eyes couldn’t help but follow the prize now walking away from him and towards the hotel stairs, taking his dreams with her. The shock of her kiss hung on the edge of his lips. “One more dice roll.” 

The royal blue carpet followed Silvia up the hotel stairs. Her perfume left a trail like breadcrumbs as if she wanted to be followed. Oliver kept his distance. Such blatant disobedience would be fatal. He listened to her footsteps while remaining one set of stairs below to keep out of sight. If lucky he could stay hidden then just happen to bump into her again as she got to her room, pretending he was looking for his own room. Maybe if he used the elevator to get ahead of her it would seem more genuine. But he didn’t know which floor to get off. 

Her footsteps stopped as she reached the first floor, he hung on the stairs below and listened for the door off the stairwell, but there was only silence. Worried he missed his shot he crept round the corner. She stood by the first-floor exit, looking down as if waiting for Oliver to show himself. The game was up, but she didn’t look angry. Her eyes acknowledged him for a moment but then looked straight through him as if his presence was of little consequence. The innocence of her eyes had been replaced by a dark showdown. 

Oliver paused for a moment while she continued to the second floor.  She hadn’t scolded him or asked him to go back down. Perhaps the game was still on. Something else pulled him up the stairs, he couldn’t get over the change in her eyes, like a completely different person to the sweet girl he met earlier. He needed to know who she really was. He still kept some distance but there was no point staying out of sight anymore. Her footsteps maintained their grace as she ascended, though her balance wavered for a moment as she reached the second floor. As she reached a hand for the banister Oliver couldn’t help notice the shine had gone a little from her skin. 

She turned again before ascending the next set of stairs. A steak of grey hair lay across her brow that stopped Oliver in his tracks. She gave a token smile through lips that spawned wrinkles from the corners before carrying on up. 

Questions flooded Oliver’s head, downing the memory of their kiss downstairs. That couldn’t be the same girl. It was impossible. And yet it was her. He looked down at his own hands to check they were still there. That he was real. Swimming through his fear and confusion was a need to know more, to see the game through. Hands shaking, he continued walking.

By the fourth floor, the grey streak had spread over most of her head. Impossible yet it was happening. Her pace had slowed though still maintained its grace. She didn’t turn to look at him this time. A mercy as Olivier feared what face would stare down at him. His own legs shook as he tried to follow, forcing him to hold onto the banister. Sweat soaked into his shirt as a cold wrapped around his heart and tried to pull him back to the safe games downstairs. He needed to finish the game and see how far he could get to that cliff edge.

She exited the stairs at the fifth floor. By now her hair was pure white. Her body bent forwards at the waist as she stumbling forwards on legs that could barely carry her thin weight. Oliver watched as she reached for the wall with what looked like nothing but bones with wrinkled skin draped over them. Her red nail paint still shone but at the end of wiry figures that pressed against the wall as she shuffled down the corridor. 

She stumbled and fell. Her body hit the royal blue carpet and rolled onto her side. Thin white hair covered her face as she lay there like a piece of crumpled paper. Oliver wanted to rush forward and help lift her back to her feet. But his body didn’t move, he was frozen watching the fragile creature slowly pull herself back up. Bony hands gripping a nearby door handle and heaving her weight back onto matchstick legs. Then she continued to stumble forward. Oliver maintained a safe distance behind. 

She stopped at room 525. Her chest heaving as if out of breath while she searched her purse for a key. Unlocking the door, she turned to give Oliver one last smile. Dark eyes squinted at him from thin leathery features. Ruby paint over shrivelled lips parted as she gave a laugh which quickly turned into a wheeze then a cough before hobbling inside the room, leaving the door wide open. 

Oliver’s own chest also heaved as he lent against the wall. He’d followed her upstairs, all the way to her door. He’d seen the cliff edge. He wondered if she was death, the pale horseman. He wondered if he’d known that when he chose to follow her, or when he’d first seen her at the bar. 

The door remained open. An emptiness hung inside the wooden frame. A dare, a final challenge. Reaching into his jack pocket his hands clutched his chips, his final winnings for the evening, as he stood at the edge. His shoes pressed against the metal strip that separating the carpets either side     

Dizziness swept over him as he peered inside, he was forced to hold onto the wooden door frame to stop himself falling across that barrier. It was a standard hotel room. Cream carpet, a wooden desk and cheap TV. He could see the corner of a double bed. The springs were creaking as something was happening beyond his view. 

He looked down at the two carpets, the royal blue he was standing on and empty cream that lay millimetres in front of him. 

“Take your winnings.” He told himself. “Go home.” But it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough. His right foot lifted but did not turn him around. It reached over the metal striped to hover above the cream. He drove his fingernails into the wooden frame but it was no use. With a deep breath he let his foot fall forwards onto the cream carpet, pulling the rest of his body over the edge. 

A man’s body lay on the hotel bed looking as ancient as her. Dressed in a black suit and pink tie which, like its occupant, had seen better days. His eyes were closed as if in sleep but his still chest and pale skin made it clear whatever soul had resided there was long departed. There was a wedding ring on his hand the same colour as Silvia’s.

She was hoisting her delicate frame onto the bed. Both palms pressed on the mattress as her upper body collapsed next to the man. She swung her tired legs so she was lying next to him. She didn’t even take off her shoes. She curled up next to him and placed an arm around his lifeless husk. Looking up, she gave Oliver one last smile before closing her eyes. A gentle smile, a friendly smile. Perhaps a final mercy as he stood there, frozen in utter terror while she closed her eyes, her breathing slowed until she was as still as he. That smile still stretched across her lips. 

​They were both still, held together in a serenity that did not match the pounding in Oliver’s own chest. His throat closed up as he stared at the two corpses. Before him lay a truth he had been avoiding. The bottom of the cliff, the initiable end to his journey that he was no so longer keen to meet. All her words from the bar ran through his mind as in ice cover tones that chilled his blood, finished off with her final smile.  The chips slipped from his grip as he turned and ran from the room. 

                                                                 💀💀💀

Growing up with TV shows like Buffy the Vampire Slayer, X-Files and Star Trek, Ivan developed a love of Dark fantasy and Science Fiction. In particular he enjoys well thought out fantasy/sci-fi concepts with strong character led stories.
Born in Scotland, Ivan Richardson studied Mechanical Engineering at Leicester University (UK). Ivan is also a member of Leicester Writers club which helped him perfect his writing skills.  His other hobbies include martial arts where he holds a 4th degree black belt in Tae Kwon do.