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Emm posted an update
The Underground Bar was more than a hideaway—it was a proving ground. Smoke curled through the air, thick as secrets, while glasses clinked in muted conversation. No one came here to lose.
The dealer moved with the practiced ease of a man who’d seen it all. From the velvet pouch, he handed out marbles—reds for fortune, blues for setbacks, greens for second chances. Blacks? Dead weight. No good to anyone. And then there were the bullies—spheres as dull as their purpose, handed out with the same randomness as any other draw. No one wanted a bully, but sometimes fate didn’t care what you wanted.
The goal was simple: five marbles in a row. Straight, diagonal—didn’t matter. What mattered was getting there before the game got you. Marilyn leaned over the table, fingers tracing her lineup, eyeing the board with the quiet calculation of a gambler on the brink. Elvis flicked his eyes toward his marbles, then toward the competition—watching, waiting. The writer, his fingers wrapped around his drink, stared at the bully in front of him like it had just insulted his mother.
A player reached for their next marble, only to find their path blocked—a bully standing in their way, costing them a turn. The room rumbled in response, low murmurs, a few hushed curses. No one liked a bully, but no one could escape them either. The game rolled on, tension mounting with each move, each draw.
In the Underground Bar, winning wasn’t just luck. It was survival. And tonight, the marbles had their own agenda. It was gonna be a long night…
Penny, Noodle and 4 others2 Comments-
Wow, great story write up here. It’s like I was there. Kudos to your writing!
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love this
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