The Game
October 16th, 2007
Well this one was a long time in coming, and I’m still really not happy with it, but it’s overdue and there are, surprisingly, other pictures that demand attention, so I’m throwing it up here and hopefully something better will follow.
This image comes from Roque over at The Dumb Are Mostly Intrigued By The Drum, his blog about Filmmaking, Fresno, and a combination of the two.
Sweat trailed down Aaron’s forehead. It made a hot, wet path from near his dark hairline and down one side of his nose to sting at the corner of his left eye. Twitching his head didn’t send the bead away, but it did let it continue down to hang annoyingly off the tip of his nose, where he could have ducked his head to one side and rub it off on his shoulder. He could have, but he didn’t. His brown eyes were focused on the game before him and dislodging the sweat would have broken his near-unblinking stare at the screen before him. The controller he hung onto like a life preserver was slick and damp in his hands, the plastic warm from being held so tightly, for so long.
“Don’t mess up,” her voice purred in his ear and suddenly half his vision was blocked by her. Her face in his, otherwise alluring features indistinct with the close proximity of her head to his own. She flicked her tongue at the tip of his nose and caught the salty drop from his skin as he tried to crane his neck around her to see what he was doing. With a tinkling laugh she was out of sight again.
Aaron remained riveted throughout, playing his best, better then he’d ever done before. His body was rigid in the seat, tension making his spine ache at its base where he’d been sitting for too long, but he had to win this. The other guys were good, but Aaron could be better. Had to be better. Being the son of Virginia State Senator Marcus Jackson had it’s privileges. No job, homeschooling. Aaron wasn’t left with much to do all day over the summer but game, game, game. It was going to pay off now. He tried to bite back a harsh laugh; what would his father say when he learned of this? Of what his gaming skills had earned him? Would he bitch and complain then about him “wasting time”? Almost hysterically, the laugh finally did spill out, but he bit it back quickly and almost risked a hasty glance away from the screen to look at the woman once more, but he didn’t dare turn away.
“Not bad, not bad. Look at you go.” she muttered behind him, placing her slim hands on his shoulders and letting them run down to his arms. He tried to hold the controller out at arms length so she couldn’t touch it from where she leaned over his shoulder, but he couldn’t get his limbs off the arms of the chair. She laughed again, her lips brushing his ear, breath hot against his skin as she spoke. “What’sa matter sweetheart,” she teased him, “Concentration breaking?”
“C’mon, please…” he pleaded as he tried to focus on what he was doing while keeping her from interfering. The last time she’d gotten close to the controller she’d pushed buttons furiously and nearly gotten him killed. He didn’t want to give her another chance at it. Not now. He was so close…so close…and without even having the energy to muster a shout of joy, without the ability to do anything but go slack in his seat, he did it. Sweat matted his clothes against his body at his back and armpits, soaked his hair and left it clinging to his forehead. The controller fell from limp fingers and clattered carelessly onto the floor. If it broke, he could afford another one.
His eyes focused on her as she walked around him then, coming to stand between him and the television. “Guess you win this time champ. Lucky boy, aren’t you? Did you enjoy our little game?” Aaron stared up at her blankly and didn’t answer, his mouth a thin line, triumph faint in his eyes. Why wasn’t she leaving? Aaron felt the first stirrings of panic as she turned her back to him for a moment.
“Did you really think beating a game was going to save you?” She asked as she turned around towards him once more. When his eyes caught sight of her hand he strained at his bonds and had time to form his mouth around a shouted “No!” before the gun came swiftly up. The muffled pfft of a silenced gunshot was the last thing he heard, the flash of the muzzle illuminating her pretty face, the last thing he saw.
She walked to the body, still sitting upright with its arms and legs tied to the chair and shook her head. Silly boy. She had a message to deliver. Aaron was it. Senator Jackson had friends in high places, and his antics in Congress had been noticed and frowned upon. He seemed to be forgetting his old friends, the ones that got him where he was. Maybe this would help him see the light. Looking down into Aarons staring brown eyes, she curled a hand around his cheek, an inch from the blood trailing a crimson line down his forehead, and smiled before moving to the door. The orange glow from the hallway made a shadow of her body, feminine outlines dark against the warm, welcoming light that provided the only illumination in the otherwise empty house as she paused to glance back at him one more time, a smile blossoming over her features. She enjoyed a good game too.
2 Responses to “The Game”
1brodiemash
October 16th, 2007 @ 7:04 pm
Nice! I just noticed the MF Ghost in the right of that pic. Watch “Sin City” lately? You still plan on doing this once a week? Stay on point, sun! Looking good!
2Tomaro
October 25th, 2007 @ 7:56 pm
If you don’t think that was good…I think you expect too much from yourself. I never would have come up with a story line like that. I think you’ve got talent, sir. Yep. Sure do.
Leave a Reply