#retry?

[catastroll]

[enhousestudios]

Another meeting.

(Not official GLITCHED art. Just me messing with assets at 1AM. Sorry.)

[sleepykittties]

....90s pop music is really not the best for writing about a guy getting hit by a car over and over again. The mood.... really doesn’t fit.

[sleepykittties]

Wow, I’m already feeling bad for Simra and he’s only gotten hit by the car 3 times now. I almost want to stop but I can’t yet. He needs to get hit.... at least a couple more times. Because he needs to learn. And also Camile isn’t done gambling yet. So.... *gently pats him* Poor guy. 

[sleepykittties]

RETRY?

There was no warning when it happened. No shout or desperate call, no last second shove out of the way. Just the sudden roar of an engine out of nowhere and impact. A surge of indescribable agony. The impression of yellow. Numbness swept over the pain, dulling it as everything faded away into nothing. ----- Today would be the day. Camile blinked hard, flexing her fingers as she stared down the machine before her. Sweaty palms clung to the wooden surface of the bar. Coins slid through the slot with a metallic clatter. She studied the images visible on the reels: clover, cherry, blue 7. A bead of sweat formed on her brow as she licked her lip nervously. Fingers flexed again as she reached for the lever. The cool plastic orb fit awkwardly against her sticky palm, just slightly too large for a comfortable hold. She released it, wiping her hand on her dark top before reaching out for the lever once more. Camile hesitated centimeters from making contact, hand hovering uncertainly. She swallowed hard, cracked her knuckles, bending back each finger until there was a satisfying pop, and took a firm grasp of the lever. C’mon Camile, you got this. Fingers tightened on the red plastic ball. With a sharp exhale of breath she pulled down. A loud ding sounded as the reels engaged, all spinning rapidly, colors and images blurring together. Camile frowned, squinting closely at the spinning reels. They hissed softly as they smoothly spun in unison. If she could just- She pulled the lever. A click and quiet rumbling as the first reel slowed to a halt. A brilliant red, bold faced 7. She quirked a grin, so far so good. A single dark blue eye narrowed as she leaned in closer to the machine. Silently she counted as the second reel tumbled on, firmly tapping a pointer finger with each pass of the second red 7. Camile bit her lip and pulled down on the lever. The reel slowed, the blur of colors pulling apart and separating into individual images. Cherries, bell, red 7, clover, orange, watermelon, cherries, blue 7… It slowed to a crawl. Come on, come on, come on! Steam fogged up the glass casing as Camile leaned in closer, anxiously awaiting the final stop. The yellow bell ticked onto the line-up. It wavered, just enough momentum to either fully stop or move one more image. It slipped. A matching red 7 slid into view. “Oh my god!” Camile clamped a hand to her mouth. Two in a row. Her eye flicked to the top of the machine. The machine had accumulated a jackpot of 5 grand. She glanced around the mid-afternoon nearly empty bar. At the other end of the room some sports game was playing on the old television attended by two college age guys. The two employees leaned against the bar, absently chatting. An elderly woman sat alone in a booth reading a newspaper. None seemed to notice her outburst. Camile took a few calming breaths and licked her upper lip. This was it. She wiped her sweaty palm off on her shirt again. Fingers curled around the end of the lever. The third reel continued spinning, blurs of color behind the glass. Slow breathing, in and out. Readjust the grip. Try to crack knuckles but no satisfying pops. A curl of hair slipped into her face. It’s flattened back by her left hand. A heavy swallow. Counting as the vaguely indistinct form of the red 7 blurred past. Readjusting the grip again. Rapidly tapping fingers. Now! Camile pulled down on the lever with the soft grinding sound of sliding metal. The reel began to slow. Blue 7, cherries, bell, watermelon, red 7, orange, clover, cherries… The spinning slowed further. At the rate of a crawl the red 7 slid into view. Camile’s heart took off, inverse to the speed of the slot machine reel. The reel almost seemed to settle but then slid past, leaving an orange in place of the winning red 7. Camile stared. Blue eye nearly uncomprehending of the lumpy orange shape in the final slot. She had been so close. So close. That 5 grand had been so close she could taste it. That would completely take care of rent for a couple months. Why had she messed it up. She just needed to do it again. A retry… ----- Sunny day, pleasantly warm with a gentle breeze. The pain and numbness immediately gone. Stumbled a step in confusion, why had there been pain? The roar of an engine out of nowhere. Déjà vu. Turning, a bright yellow sports car. Too fast. Impact. Agonizing pain. Again? Ribs shattered. Arm. Arm? Pain. Red on yellow. Fading. Again? Everything blurred, color disappearing into nothingness.

----- Camile glared at the slot machine, fingers flexing as she studied the images on the reels: clover, cherries, blue 7. Wipe sweaty palms on the shirt. She tightly gripping the plastic knob of the lever and pulled. A ding rang through the bar as the reels caught and began spinning. This time she was going to get it...

[sleepykittties]

Camile has a gambling problem. She is way too invested in slot machines. Specifically the kind where you pull the lever to stop each individual reel. AKA a slot machine in which getting to redo it doesn’t always have the same results depending on when you pull it. But she has really bad luck with slot machines. So when she’s on a gambling binge Simra gets trapped redoing the same events over and over again because Camile doesn’t want to lose all her money.

[sleepykittties]

My characters finally have names. Camile Fasciano and Simra Ayis. And at this point I’m about 90% sure that they’re going to meet once and then never again. And they probably won’t ever know each others names or even have any reason to remember each other. Just people who were in the same place once, both not even a lasting memory for the other, just another face in the crowd.

[boilingblood]

she walked by and smile at me, but I was too overwhelmed with my feelings I forgot to smile back... oh what have I done...