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Gunslingers Notebook
I've decided, that since no one reads any of the stories I write anyways, I might as well put them here, where someone MIGHT read them. It will most like be a random collection of random ides that come to me on the spot when I'm just feeling creative
The Mysterious Black Ball pt.1
I woke up this morning especially drowsy. I slumped out of bed, and dragged my feet to the bathroom. Looking into the mirror, I tried to recall the previous night. It was fuzzy, to say the least. I made my way into the kitchen, holding my head in an aching pain, poured a glass of oj, and took a seat. I spent several minutes rubbing my head, hoping the throbbing would stop. It didn't. I still couldn't remember what had happened exactly. There was a man, in a black coat, and a red haired woman. At least I think it was a woman. I remember running behind them, down a long dimly lit hallway. I couldn't recall what it was we were running from, though. Or maybe we were running to something, I just didn't know. The more I thought about it, the less I seemed to remember, and the more it seemed like it was just a dream. Though the headache and extreme exhaustion are saying differently.

After a nice hot shower and a change of clothes, I started to feel a bit better, not by much, though. I grabbed my coat, and threw it over my shoulder, heading for the door. I looked back at the clock hanging above my bedroom door. Three forty-five. I overslept. Not for anything in particular, I just normally wake up before ten in the morning, even on my days off like this. I walked down the steps of my second floor apartment, each step making a low ringing clang. I put my coat on and headed for the bus stop.

I took a seat, waiting for the bus to show up. I thrust my hands into my pockets, it was pretty cold outside. There was something in my right pocket, I fumbled it around between my fingers for a moment, trying to decipher what it was, but when I couldn't I took it out to look. It was small and round, like a marble, and pitch black. It was attached to a string, also black, that was tightly tied together in a double knot at the end. I spun it around, looking at it from all angles. No scratches, no marks, no imperfections I could see. It was a just a pure, perfect, black ball.

Captain Faux
Community Member
Captain Faux
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