(Picture is Skye)
I walked down the street to another warehouse. It was about ten at night on a saturday in the middle of fall. Rain drenching me, i shiver from the coldness.
I arrive at my destination and enter the rundown building. The air is heavy with the smell of alcohol and cigarette smoke. The room is full of boys and men ranging from about 14 to 35 in age. I myself fall at the age of 15. The room is vary specious and clean despite outwardly appearances. There were red velvet couches in a circle towards the center of the room. Some people stood standing while others sat. All the adults wore pristine suits. The teenagers dressed similarly to me. (Refer to picture)
"How nice of you to join us Skye." a man i have learnt was "the boss" around here asked.
"Fine" I reply stiffly.
"Come to play another round of our little game?" the boss asked with a coy smile.
"You know me too well" I comment with a nonchalant attitude, propping myself on the wall by the door.
"Oh contraire, we don't know you well enough my friend."
"I plan to keep it that way, and I'm not your friend." I dead panned
"Fine fine, Ethan go get the props." He says.
A teen leaves and then comes back moments later with a barstool and a small hand gun. He sets the barstool in the middle of the ring of couches and hands the gun to "the boss." I take my place on the barstool. The gun can hold 5 rounds so I only need to pull the trigger 4 times. I watch the man put the bullet in. He.passes me the gun.
"Good luck"Click
Click
Click
Click
The room let out a collective sigh. I go to leave and as I reach the door "the boss says "one day you're going to dance with death and loose little one."
"I look forward to it." i say without turning around and left back into the cold wet night.
YOU ARE READING
Dancing With Death
Ficção GeralSkye dances with death for fun. People warn him one day he will loose. Sorry for sucky summary. Story is slightly.better.