The Game

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic
just a short scene/story i wrote trying to evoke the same feelings that rhianna's song russian roulette did.

Submitted: July 20, 2019

A A A | A A A

Submitted: July 20, 2019





A bead of sweat trickles from my brow, tracing a line down my cheek, following the contours of my face to disappear under the collar of my shirt. My heart beats so hard, I’m sure she can see it through my chest. 




Her smile widens. I swear she can taste my fear. “If you’re in, you’re all in. There’s no backing out. We play until there’s a winner.” Her earlier words echo in my mind as I realize it’s my turn.


The pistol sits on the table between us, glinting evilly in the dim light. The black grips seem to soak in the meager light, a black hole swallowing everything. I don’t want to touch it, but I can’t back out now. I have to pass this test, this test of nerves, luck, faith, insanity. Call it what you will, but I’m all in, there’s no turning back.


I wipe my hands on my jeans, palms slick with the oily perspiration that only utter terror can cause. I hold my breath as I reach out and pick up the revolver. As my fingers curl around the grip, I can hear her breath catch in anticipation, or lust, I can’t tell. I want to look, to gauge her reaction for myself, but I can’t tear my eyes from the ugly beast in my hand. 


The weight surprises me. My hand trembles and I force myself to bring it closer to me. All thoughts of where I was and how I got here, to this place, this time, vanish. All that exists is this moment, this decision. 


“Breathe.” Her breath tickles my ear and I gasp in surprise. I didn’t realize she’d moved to my side, so focused on the weapon in my hand. I nearly drop it back to the table like a hot coal. Her hand gently closes around my own, firming my grip. Her hands are soft, a direct contrast to the tacky rubberized grips.


“Calm yourself. Take a deep breath it will help.” Her words are gentle, a mother reassuring a scared child. “You can do this.”


I take a breath, it catches in my throat but I draw it in deep. My hand stops shaking, as I let it out. Her perfume engulfs me, Jasmine and Vanilla. It covers the stale stink of my fear. I can smell her arousal as well. This excites her. I don’t know if it’s the adrenaline high, the surety of death’s embrace for one of us, or just simple madness, but she’s really enjoying this.


“Close your eyes.” She purrs in my ear and I obey. I can feel her breasts press into my back as she runs her other hand down my arm to cup my empty hand. Gently, but insistently, she guides it to the revolver’s chamber. 


“Spin it, like I showed you.” Shivers run down my neck, as her lips lightly caress my ear. I take another deep breath and grip the weapon tight in my hand as the other rolls the chamber. 




The metallic sound seems to echo in the silence of the room. It goes on forever, an eternity before it finally slows. another eon stretches out before it clicks to a stop. She pulls away, her hands running up my arms, a lover’s caress. 


I can feel her back away and hear her moving around to the other side of the table. There’s no time to think now. I raise the gun to my temple. The steel robs my temple of all heat as it rests there. The cold seeps from my temple down my cheek until my entire body feels like Ice. 


I have sober thought as I sit there gun against my temple. If she’s here, across the table from me, then she’s never lost this game. Ever. Some masochistic part of my brain says to me maybe today will be the day she does. Maybe then this nightmare will end for me. 


I almost laugh. One way or another the nightmare will end. I say a silent prayer that things will go in my favor. 




The hammer pulls back and locks into place, a viper prepared to strike. The scent of oil and burnt gunpowder wipes out the traces of her perfume. I can taste the sharp metallic scent on the back of my tongue.


I swallow, take another deep breath and start to count. 




My index finger finds the trigger guard.




My finger slips inside the guard and rests against the trigger itself. I want to drop the viper in my hand and run, but I can’t. I’m frozen in place, a slave to my word, and her lust. I can’t leave. I have to pass this test. I have to prove I can do this.




My finger tightens on the trigger, I can feel the exact moment when the hammer is tripped from it’s locked position. Time slows to an insane crawl. It takes an eternity for the hammer to move forward. I wait, suspended in time, and watch as my life flies before my closed eyes in all it’s glory and depredations. Finally, eons later the hammer hits the firing pin. 




Death wins again.


© Copyright 2019 Darren Woods. All rights reserved.

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