The pistol was cocked, ready to go. “Your turn” she said, as my hands trembled in fear. Why was I here? Who was she? So many questions left without an answer. I swallowed, breaking the piercing silence. She laughed. “First time playing?” she asked smugly, already knowing the answer. I stayed quiet. I could barely hold it. A beautiful 1873 Frisco Revolver, 6 chambers, yet somehow, that didn’t lighten my mood. I wrapped my hand around the Pearl style grip hoping for the best. It felt cool in my hands. I looked at her, she smirked.
That was the last thing I saw before I shut my eyes. I now had the pistol tightly griped in both hands. I slowly pressed the gun to my lips. The cold metal made me quiver. So many thoughts had raced through my head. They weren’t stopping, everything was spinning, I couldn’t tell up from down, I pulled the trigger.
She took the gun from my hands, as she congratulated me. She grabbed the gun, cocked it, and pulled the trigger, nothing. "Your turn again” she whispered.