Carmin was losing control over her life and she knew it, too. She took risks - too many risks and even her friends, who were risk takers, said that she was getting too dangerous. Russian Roulette, life risking activities. They were fine with drugs, gangs and prostitution but things like this seemed too extreme for them.
Carmin sat in the bleak room, a loaded gun on the floor between her and a friend, pointing off to the side between them. A few crackheads and prostitutes gathered in the room as well, placing bets or lining up for the next game. The room's stench lingered, like alcohol and piss, smelling like shame and bad life choices.
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Music Short Stories
VampireStories based on songs. I pick a song and have until the song finishes to write a short story.
