Post by Lone Dancer on Jul 24, 2022 0:27:58 GMT
The sounds of gunfire were prevalent as I sipped my orange juice. A beat-up jukebox played old-timey tunes in the background, and the mostly amiable chatter composed the friendly din that this quaint cafe had.
That was until someone came in screaming about a crazed gunman, blah blah blah. Raising my glass up, I downed the remaining dribbles of OJ. Then, slamming the cup back down, I leaned back and sighed. The person in question, a young adult woman with short brown hair and gray eyes, was trying to get the attention of anyone she could.
Poor lass seemed so confused about why no one was paying her mind, obviously panicking. The sound of glass shattering erupted out, interrupting out her vociferous pleas for help. Bullet holes lined the opposite wall, causing the woman to drop to the floor, huddled up.
Ah.
She was new here.
Very new here.
Whelp, nothing like being tossed into the frigid deep end to learn things quickly; or die. But death wasn’t permanent here. Not in this godforsaken place. A few unfortunate fellow patrons were struck in vital areas, and collapsed swiftly, or slowly in one foul cursing man’s case.
I myself was ‘lucky’ and remained scot-free. However, it was quite apparent that the deaths around this woman were causing her higher distress. But as quickly as the bullets arrived, they stopped. In a minute, the bodies would be gone, and their owners back and eating and drinking once more.
The absolute hell of this place was the lack of any sort of alcohol, I mused, the woman currently reduced to a sobbing wreck, but I ignored her. Someone would probably put her out of her misery temporarily. Grim thoughts, but that's the reality of this place where everyone has guns and no one truly died.
Apple, grape, and orange juice were the beverages of choice in this diner. At least we could pretend it was wine and beer, like tiny children emulating their parents. Many a person tried to brew anything, but it would be some devil-cursed drink that left you soberer than before you drank it.
As I predicted, another gunshot ran out, and the sobbing stopped. Good riddance, this place is dark. Ah well, it’s a learning experience for the lady. Maybe she’ll swing around again. Maybe not. Who knows.
Some other patrons took the still ringing gunshot as a sign of aggression, and the entire diner delved into chaos. Opting to stay sitting, I wanted to take another sip, but I had already drained my drink. Alas, a stray bullet shattered the glass, sending some razor shards into my arms and torso. Thankfully the next stray bullet was to my noggin, and I didn’t do much thinking after that.
For a full minute.
The grueling sun beat down against my brow, and I raised my hand for shade as my eyes adjusted, blinking rapidly. The rough concrete sidewalk beneath my feet and the generic facade of a town were around me. As always, the sounds of some gunfight were present.
Looking over myself, I was in my standard attire, a simplistic t-shirt with jeans. The shirt color of today was a gradient of yellow and orange. I was looking good, and no injures on me. Sometimes the process of coming back resulted in some less than stellar results, and it was best to find someone to kill you if that happened. It was a mercy…
Stretching out freshly made limbs, and doing a little shuffle, I heard the muffled crying of a familiar person.
Ah.
It was her. The lady was currently huddled on the sidewalk, rocking back and forth, crying into her knees. Already her jeans were stained with her tears. I sucked in through my teeth, completely out of my water here. Do I offer my condolences, do I ignore her? I could kill five men in three seconds yet that wasn’t going to help me here.
However she seemed to be aware of my presence, sniffling and slowly standing up, wiping off her face of the tears. While now upright, she was still shaky.
“What is this place?” Quiet, defeated words popped out from her lips.
“Hell.”
That one word sent her into whiplash.
“But, I was a good person! I don’t even remember dying!” She seemed even more in a panic now, and I rubbed my forehead. I was not prepared to deal with this.
“Not the biblical Hell. Just, hell. As in this place is fucking awful.” At least the fruit juice is good, a silent thought I kept to myself. She would learn by her own drinkings. Unfortunately, my kind words seemed to have little effect on her stress levels, and she appeared on the brink of a meltdown. Hecking A.
“Before you erupt into the how or the why we’re all here, no one knows; we have no answers, and this our life now. So congratulations, you’re now immortal! A silent wish of so, so many, made real in this just absolutely lovely place. Do you want to know the limitless bounds of human cruelty when there is no true consequence? Guess what its pretty fucking limitless.” Maybe I was just slightly pissed at a few individuals.
Just because you could come back after being hanged by your own intestines after being flayed alive doesn’t mean it was an enjoyable process. Man, I’m far too desensitized. Thankfully the fellow in question pissed off the wrong people and is now being hunted down for the rest of time. Fuck them.
The woman was currently looking at me in abject horror, and I realized I had muttered my thoughts out loud. Whoops.
“Uh, I was just joking?”
“A really sick joke then. What the fuck is wrong with you.”
Ah, good, her panic attack was being overridden; I could work with this.
“So many things that come after dying a few thousand times in either generic or rather painfully creative ways. I didn’t even know you could be tickled to death.”
The lass looked ill at the thought and reflexively clutched her sides.
“Eyup!”
“How do you even live in a place like this?” Her voice was hoarse, and her eyes seemed dead.
“Often for just a day or two before some guy, or gal, with a gun decides to paint the walls with your brains. We’re not very stable folk.”
“Lord have mercy…”
“God doesn’t quite exist here, and neither does mercy. Anyhow, I suggest you get moving; staying on the sidewalks is a great way to get forcefully invited to a fight. Oh, and yeah, just think carefully of its name and appearance to get a weapon and hold out your preferred hand.”
She had no reply for me. Ah well.
Whistling a random tune in my head, I walk forward along the sidewalk, summoning back my weaponry of choice. Maybe I'll run into her again. Unfortunately, today was going to be another violent day. Good ole Town, I’d rather be in any other place.
That was until someone came in screaming about a crazed gunman, blah blah blah. Raising my glass up, I downed the remaining dribbles of OJ. Then, slamming the cup back down, I leaned back and sighed. The person in question, a young adult woman with short brown hair and gray eyes, was trying to get the attention of anyone she could.
Poor lass seemed so confused about why no one was paying her mind, obviously panicking. The sound of glass shattering erupted out, interrupting out her vociferous pleas for help. Bullet holes lined the opposite wall, causing the woman to drop to the floor, huddled up.
Ah.
She was new here.
Very new here.
Whelp, nothing like being tossed into the frigid deep end to learn things quickly; or die. But death wasn’t permanent here. Not in this godforsaken place. A few unfortunate fellow patrons were struck in vital areas, and collapsed swiftly, or slowly in one foul cursing man’s case.
I myself was ‘lucky’ and remained scot-free. However, it was quite apparent that the deaths around this woman were causing her higher distress. But as quickly as the bullets arrived, they stopped. In a minute, the bodies would be gone, and their owners back and eating and drinking once more.
The absolute hell of this place was the lack of any sort of alcohol, I mused, the woman currently reduced to a sobbing wreck, but I ignored her. Someone would probably put her out of her misery temporarily. Grim thoughts, but that's the reality of this place where everyone has guns and no one truly died.
Apple, grape, and orange juice were the beverages of choice in this diner. At least we could pretend it was wine and beer, like tiny children emulating their parents. Many a person tried to brew anything, but it would be some devil-cursed drink that left you soberer than before you drank it.
As I predicted, another gunshot ran out, and the sobbing stopped. Good riddance, this place is dark. Ah well, it’s a learning experience for the lady. Maybe she’ll swing around again. Maybe not. Who knows.
Some other patrons took the still ringing gunshot as a sign of aggression, and the entire diner delved into chaos. Opting to stay sitting, I wanted to take another sip, but I had already drained my drink. Alas, a stray bullet shattered the glass, sending some razor shards into my arms and torso. Thankfully the next stray bullet was to my noggin, and I didn’t do much thinking after that.
For a full minute.
The grueling sun beat down against my brow, and I raised my hand for shade as my eyes adjusted, blinking rapidly. The rough concrete sidewalk beneath my feet and the generic facade of a town were around me. As always, the sounds of some gunfight were present.
Looking over myself, I was in my standard attire, a simplistic t-shirt with jeans. The shirt color of today was a gradient of yellow and orange. I was looking good, and no injures on me. Sometimes the process of coming back resulted in some less than stellar results, and it was best to find someone to kill you if that happened. It was a mercy…
Stretching out freshly made limbs, and doing a little shuffle, I heard the muffled crying of a familiar person.
Ah.
It was her. The lady was currently huddled on the sidewalk, rocking back and forth, crying into her knees. Already her jeans were stained with her tears. I sucked in through my teeth, completely out of my water here. Do I offer my condolences, do I ignore her? I could kill five men in three seconds yet that wasn’t going to help me here.
However she seemed to be aware of my presence, sniffling and slowly standing up, wiping off her face of the tears. While now upright, she was still shaky.
“What is this place?” Quiet, defeated words popped out from her lips.
“Hell.”
That one word sent her into whiplash.
“But, I was a good person! I don’t even remember dying!” She seemed even more in a panic now, and I rubbed my forehead. I was not prepared to deal with this.
“Not the biblical Hell. Just, hell. As in this place is fucking awful.” At least the fruit juice is good, a silent thought I kept to myself. She would learn by her own drinkings. Unfortunately, my kind words seemed to have little effect on her stress levels, and she appeared on the brink of a meltdown. Hecking A.
“Before you erupt into the how or the why we’re all here, no one knows; we have no answers, and this our life now. So congratulations, you’re now immortal! A silent wish of so, so many, made real in this just absolutely lovely place. Do you want to know the limitless bounds of human cruelty when there is no true consequence? Guess what its pretty fucking limitless.” Maybe I was just slightly pissed at a few individuals.
Just because you could come back after being hanged by your own intestines after being flayed alive doesn’t mean it was an enjoyable process. Man, I’m far too desensitized. Thankfully the fellow in question pissed off the wrong people and is now being hunted down for the rest of time. Fuck them.
The woman was currently looking at me in abject horror, and I realized I had muttered my thoughts out loud. Whoops.
“Uh, I was just joking?”
“A really sick joke then. What the fuck is wrong with you.”
Ah, good, her panic attack was being overridden; I could work with this.
“So many things that come after dying a few thousand times in either generic or rather painfully creative ways. I didn’t even know you could be tickled to death.”
The lass looked ill at the thought and reflexively clutched her sides.
“Eyup!”
“How do you even live in a place like this?” Her voice was hoarse, and her eyes seemed dead.
“Often for just a day or two before some guy, or gal, with a gun decides to paint the walls with your brains. We’re not very stable folk.”
“Lord have mercy…”
“God doesn’t quite exist here, and neither does mercy. Anyhow, I suggest you get moving; staying on the sidewalks is a great way to get forcefully invited to a fight. Oh, and yeah, just think carefully of its name and appearance to get a weapon and hold out your preferred hand.”
She had no reply for me. Ah well.
Whistling a random tune in my head, I walk forward along the sidewalk, summoning back my weaponry of choice. Maybe I'll run into her again. Unfortunately, today was going to be another violent day. Good ole Town, I’d rather be in any other place.