Chiappa 2.0

>another shit day at work
>no one is surprised
>you have to kickstart your shitbox Tarcel
>no one is suprised
>soccermom in a mercedes SUV almost kills you by swerving between lanes and makes you miss your exit
>no one is surprised
>you spend a few minutes in the car being lost
>after some more time, you just get pissed and type in your home adress in your phone and ask it to get you home
>you decide to try not going on the highway, and opting for a rout through a built up area
>the american dream, huh?
>all two story houses, with a front lawn and a truck or a honda sedan on them
>sadly everything you see is a little out of your financial reach
>you decide to get angry at them because they can afford things you can't
>you flick the radio on, but it only results in you getting reminded that it doesn't work
>you get angry at that aswell
>suddenly, something catches your eye
>there is a man and a woman standing outside a house, and lots of stuff on the front lawn
>it had a big white sign with black letters haistily written on it
>it says yard sale
>there is a few persons there, but none of them are really looking at the stuff for sale
>you park the car on the road next to the house
>some words are exchanged with the man in charge, and he informs you that if you want anything, you ask him, since he's not been able to sort everything out
>something is up with the man, while he spoke to you, he was never quite there, with you. His mind was somewhere else
>he looks... saddened
>you offer him some help with the boxes, moving stuff from out of the house to the yard
>some people come and go, buying an old xbox and the flatscreen
>the man is very kind, but he seems just a little off
>it's not his things either
>you decide not to ask any question, but rather help him with what needs helping
>as the days draws to a close, you find a small cardboard
>inside, a strange looking revolver resting on a soft, red, velvet cushion and a small red bow tied around the barrel

>"excuse me sir, how much do you want for this?"
>he is just thankful for the help and says you can have it for the help you have given him
>you try to give him something for it, but he insists you should have it, since he really doesn't "want to have more to do with guns"
>it's all a bit strange, the rough looking box and the cushion and the tied bow gives of mixed impressions
>anyway, it felt... special
>there was something about it, that just set it apart from other guns
>was this one of those spirit things that went mad all over the news?
>well, it was a free gun at any rate, and would compliment the rather lonely .22 you had at home
>you put the little box in the passenger seat
>the ride home is spend about cleaning the little thing and trying to find out exactly what it is
>however, the gun is clean
>there is not a single speck on it anywhere
>it's like it was just off the production line
>The gun itself is rather unconventional looking
>barrel firing from the bottom of the cylinder, through a 5 inch long barrel and chambered for... 9x19?
>the finish is rather conventional however, featuring a chromed finish and a wooden grip
>you feel it in your hand, weigh it, and check out the sights
>it feels really... nice
>you clear you house a few times
>there was no one there
>just like last time
>you get a little sad again
>you have a meeting with your best friend, jack and see if he can makes things better
>he never can, but you keep seeing him anyway
>you put your new gun on the nightstand and go to sleep
>you wake up with a beehive in your head, and grab the glass of water on the nightstand
>...what?
>you never put it there
>and the gun is lying on the floor
>its still as clean as you found it, bit the little bow is gone
>you pick it up and put it next to you on the bed
>"hey, uhh gun?"
>the gun lies on the bed
>"thanks for the water, gun. I kinda needed that"
>the gun does nothing
>you put it on your pillow and pull the blanket up, like it was a person

>now, it lies on your pillow, only the last inch of the barrel poking out from the blanket
>"i'll... uhhh, have some food ready down here, if you want"
>the gun lies still on your pillow
>"o-or some chocolate if you want"
>the gun does once again, nothing
>you head out to the kitchen and put some coffee on
>you stare at the kitchen wall for a few minutes and think over the fact you've just had a "dialogue" with a revolver
>something catches your eye
>the little ribbon tied around the gun in a bow is lying next to the sink
>its not more than a couple of inches long, maybe one inch wide but made in some really soft material, silk maybe?
>you find it rather cute and wrap around your left index finger
>it's so soft and, smooth and... the coffee is ready
>it just had to be one of those spirit things
>the ribbon didn't get there by itself, right?
>you stare at the empty cup and the chocolate milk box sitting across the table, now next to the red silk ribbon
>you think of old times
>you think of when you still had-
excuse me mister?
>"huh?"
mister, c-could i please have my ribbon back?
>"wha-"
>half of a face is poking out around the corner
>you get off your chair and approach the voice
>"hey, who-"
nononnnoo, please don't come now!
>you stop at the childish yellings' command
d-don't look at me now, can i have my ribbon first. Please?
>"oh, uhh, sure"
>you turn back to the table and pick up the ribbon that has somehow grown fivefold in size, now being at least three inches wide and a foot in length
>it's still soft and smooth though
>you hang it over your hand, and it hands down on either side of it
>"here you are"
>whoever is standing around the corner takes if from your hand... with a very small hand and from a somewhat interesting angle
don't look yet, o-okay?
>"suuure. I'll go back to the table, alright?"
>you should be mad. Someone is in your house, and you have no idea who it is
>but the voice sounded very not-frightening. And it asked for a silk ribbon

>it can't be that bad, right?
>you look at the cup and really hoping the coffee was normal and this was actually happening
>the coffee tastes just like normal
d-did you have chocolate?
>across the table, a small girl
>most likely not even in her mid teens
>she has a hint of cinnamon complexion, but light hair. She is also wearing her Ribbon, tied into a cute little bow over her forehead
>...over?
>it was positioned at a strange angle, pointing forwards
>"sure"
>you fill up the cup up and hand it to her
>she takes it with both her her hands and chugs it all down rather quickly
>you are the assaulted by puppy dog eyes
>"like it?"
>a nod
>"want more?"
>a nod
>another glass in downed, at a slightly slower pace
>"okay, if you don't mind me asking, you are the...gun?"
Yep! you can call me chiappa! Are you my new owner?
>"uhh, yeah i am"
Good, then i will protect you!
>"but i don't have any 9 mm"
>chiappa looks at you, disappointing
But what happens if someone attacks you!
>"that's never happened so far"
You can't think like that! Just buy some good ammo, and then take me with you, and i'll keep you safe, okay?
>"sure, but i don't think there are any stores open now though. Actually, mind if i ask about the ribbon, it seemed important to you?"
>the girl look down in the floor and mumbles
earlier... troubles...
>"i think it's kinda cute anyway. But i can't quite figure you you keep it upright like that"
do you think it can be just... cute for now?
>this seemed like a touchy subject
>"just cute for now, sure"
thanks. But are you sure we can't get any ammo today?
>"yeah, i think so. None of these places tend to have open sundays"
and you didn't have any ammo last night either?
>"...no, why?"
what were you doing going around the house, ready to shoot people, if you had nu bullets?
>"well, there is never anyone here, apart from me"


but I'm here now
>"yeah you are. But you're a gun?"
I'm not a gun now, silly

>you take her small hand in yours and rub the back of it with your thumb, just to make sure you're nor imagining things
>She has a little darker skin than you have, and it creates a contrast, both in size and color

Guns don't have hands!

>she grabs your thumb with her other hand and bend around the fingers a bit

>"so you can be a pistol when you want to and a... Girl when you want to?"

Turn around five seconds then look back!

>she says this as she crawls up on the kitchen table, revealing that she is wearing what looks like 1980s gym shorts
>you turn around, count to five and then back to the table
>your gun lies in front of you
>you pick it up, go to the bed, which is now empty and then head back to the table and very gently place it back on the table
>the little ribbon is about to come of, ao you take a few seconds to untie it, and attach it properly
>you stare at it for a few seconds
>it does nothing
>"hey Chiappa, you can come back now if you want to"
>nothing
>"do I have to do anything to help you ?"
>the gun acts like a normal, cold gun
>"noo, sorry if I did anything wrong"
>you pick it up, try spinning the cylinder a little
>you try dry firing
>you try the safety
>you try feeling it, touching it like it was a magical lamp or something
>trigger guard, the holes above the barrel, the grip, the rear sight, and the somewhat strange looking front one
>to no avail.
>maybe she is shy?
>you put the gun on your pillow and pull up the blanket, like earlier

>an hour passes before you return to the bed
>still a gun
>you sigh heavily and head out to the living room
>you put two pillows on top of each other and the little gun on top
>you also turn on the TV, find some national geographic and fill up a glass of drinking chocolate
>"s-sorry chiappa"
>you decide today is wasted and go to sleep
>you said sorry to a gun
>without actually doing anything to it
>well this is what your life has come to
>your pillow is not dry when you finally hit sleep, during the mid of day
>you dreams are shaking and scaring you, like stormy sea
>everything just reminds of things you have done that you shouldn't have, or even worse, something you should have done bet never did
>it's like being waterboarded in a dream. Not enough pain to wake up, yet enough to properly hurt
>your chemical constrains still bind you to the sleep
>you are powerless here

>but happily, someone has taken a liking to protecting you
>you wake up with a yelp, but the first thing you see her Chiappas face, and it calms you down a little
Are you okay?
>you suflle back towards the headrest, and take a few heavy breaths
>you would have liked to deny everything, keeping your problems to yourself, just like you always have done
>but lying now just seems pathetic, considering you are out of breath and sweating
>"i guess some bad dreams, heh"
>you try sounding comforting, and fail miserably
me too...
>is a surprising turn of events, you are now sitting with the girl in your lap
>you are holding your right hand around her back
>you've always tried to help others, thinking they might do the same to you one day, but since the latter never has happened, you have pretty much given up on that idea
>but she look like she's in middle school, and you can't really have her being sad
>"you okay?"
>she looks really strange
>cinnamon skin, very light hair, and that red bow tied around...?
i had some problems earlier
>"yeah, me too"
will you take care of me?

>her eyes look up to you
>they have a really un-natural color, and while this would normally scare you just a little bit, she looks small and fragile, something you should tend to and care for
>"i'll take care of you"
>she still looks a little frightened, and you pull her to you to a hug
>she gives in, and relaxes in your arms
>because of her heinght, you can now look down on top of her head
>the silk ribbon is tied around a... horn?
>when you still doubted the existence of these gun spirits, you did notice some of them had non-human characteristics
>"you know, the ribbon is kinda cute, but you don't have to wear it if you don't want to"
>she jerks back and blushes
>"as long as you like it, there is nothing to be ashamed of. I have things i'm ashamed of, but they are all inside me"
so you don't think it's...
>"as i said, it's nothing. If you want to wear your ribbon, do so, if you don't want it, take it off. Besides, it's kinda cute"
>you move your hand to get a feel for what the horn is actually made out of, but she once again, jerks back a little
no! please don't touch it. n-not tight now
>"oh, sorry, i didn't know"
it's okay, but it's a little...
>"hey, you don't have to go there, i get the point"
good. Do you have some food?
>"uhh, do you eat like gunpowder or bullets or something?"
>she looks at you as if you were an idiot
>"ahh, come on, don't give me that look, i have no idea how this works"
Remember when i told you guns don't have hands?
>she extends her arm, hinting you to do the same
>suddenly, it grabs your right index finger, hard
i'm not a gun right now, you know, i eat normal, people food
>"great, i have some of that. Cant guarantee the quality, but it's food at least"
i'm not picky you know
>you still have some week old sugary cereal left, so you pour her a bowl of that, and add some milk
>"there you go, that should be something"
thanks!
>you watch her eat, and she holds the spoon with a closed fist as if it was a dagger
>it looks adorable