7 Was His Lucky Number [700,000 Subs Contest] : Scary Stories – Short Horror Story

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The Powerball lottery of year ‘08,
Was strange in its outcome, and stranger in fate.
The winner—a mild-mannered husband named Kevin.
Had entered a number composed of six sevens.

Kevin McDean was a principled man,
Who always worked hard and on merit did stand.
With a new wife to love and a new child to feed,
He never, not once, gave allowance to greed.

But one week, he took an exception to motto,
When he wrote in a try at the Powerball lotto.
His pals on the site had corralled his attempt,
So, scrawling one digit, Kevin did relent.

Never in his wildest dreams did he expect,
For his happenstance action to bring forth a cheque,
Of millions of dollars, beyond what he’d seen.
Far more than enough to live life in the green.

Upon finding out, his wife beamed at the news,
While deep within Kevin, something darker brewed.
His virtue was lost, and a new deal was struck,
With the number upon which he’d founded his luck.

For it was in that one moment that he discovered,
A new guiding angel to maintain this power.
And so, he adhered to an odd superstition,
Spurred on by receipt of his giant commission.

He pushed Claire for more kids, to reach 7 children,
Bought up 7 houses, with items to fill them.
Cats, dogs and a tortoise equaled 7 pets,
Purchased 7 cars (though he’d lose them in bets).

He wore platforms to be 7 inches taller,
Routinely invested 700,000 dollars.
The man needed 7 women in his life,
So, he added 6 mistresses in with his wife.

Years on, his obsession just couldn’t be quelled,
Cared more for the number, than the lifestyle itself.
This pedantic rule made him selfish and blind,
And a target of those who would punish that kind.

Enter the Robin Hood serial killer,
Targeting rich folk and spilling their innards.
It should come as no shock that Kevin qualified,
As the next one this killer selected to die.

When he burst through Kev’s door, stuck a knife in his gut,
It fast became clear, Kevin’s luck had run up.
Still, he recalled one factoid to offer him peace:
Said criminal had murdered 6, claimed police.

This would make him the 7th, a perk to his pain,
A chance to see 7 one last time again.
But the fiend only laughed as he twisted the knife,
“Of my victims thus far, you’re really the 9th.”

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