Flow of conscious thought.
who’s there? anybody? somebody? Paranoia struck like a ton of bricks.
I know I’m not alone. the sound of my voice echoes through my head.
I struggle to gain control.
“be cool, it will be over soon.”
time is of the essence.
I am a stranger to patience.
My fingers tap systematically with frustration on the cool metal armrest.
shifting my gaze downward peering at the ingrown mildew upon the heinous
vintage grout that shrieks in flamboyancy,“blah orange” almost leaving
a vomit taste in my mouth. a taste of moldy citrus fruit.
Out of nowhere someone comes to yank me from my reverie.
dragging me out of the room, and outside where it’s pouring rain.
“what’s the idea?” I glance up meeting his eyes.
“what’s it to ya? was just wonderin’ if you needed a smoke wa’s all..
problm with dat lollipop?”
I wasn’t amused to say the least.
this tall and extensively round guy was piercing his way into my
perevial vision and all I could do was be on my best behavior.
Biting my lower lip and showing some mercy..I would be disrespectful not
to take the cancer stick.
I take him on his offer and proceed to the root of it.
“So what’s your story?” I shine with interest.
“you a detective er somethin’?” he muffles out a cough or two.
“no, just spendin mindless hours hangin’ about court houses, puttin’ it round
you kno?” I remarked.
He raised a brow, I thought maybe he would have taken well to the response instead
he seemed rather direct and was looking for truth.
“List’n sweet cheeks, my deal is, I got pinned for the death of my misses,
came home one night, found’er locked up, tied up,
a note was attached to the corpse.”
“Didja do it?”
“Ell no, it was guys night out, at room 203 lobby quarters,
bunch of us was back to back we had plans fora heist and hired a hitman
for hire. If it went well we were gonna literally be rollin in dough..”
“So what happened?”
“Nuff bout me kid, how bout you?”
I lit up the cigarette then the fear began to take hold.
I held his gaze for the longest time trying to put my “crime of passion into words.”
“I was out with Dahlia, she was quite a looker, I took her into the back storage room, prior to this she was dancing at the nightclub “Shim and Shake” told me to
meet her there, so I did, I parked my junker southside of the building,
in I shuffled nonchalantly, attempting to strive incognito.
I was a regular, a “frequent flyer”, they all knew me.
That’s when her and I went into the back,
and started to talk turkey.
Her and I got into a heated discussion, decided to take it elsewhere..
It was about money, money all the way, she ragged on about how I owed her
this for doing “that.”
and that’s when it happened, in the storage room, behind the lobby
room 203, she pleaded for mercy,
I put her in the limelight, all she wanted was the attention,
the money..I just wanted a corpse to put in the ‘ol locker.
oh her cries kept peaking my lust. she was gonna be my “trophy” you see.
I tied her up, I smelled her fear, my knife grazed along her flesh."
I stopped to catch my breath only to keep weaving my tale..
“I pulled out my shiny, slender silencer and gave her a whirl,
it was like russian roulette, one bullet, one person,
keep firing off nothing until it fires out to pierce the skull..
it’s a beautiful thing."
His eyes began to widen.
“The memo attached to dear Dahlia was inscripted, and allow me to put this
200k or she gets-it”
I paused from the intensity between us and then whispered from
The last thing I seen was the butt of a gun, one last bat of my eyelashes..
my eyes rolling to the back of my head, the distinct taste of copper,
my own blood filling in my mouth, I was on the biggest high of my life,
crossing a thin line between life and death.
Short experpt pulled from nowhere.
Syntax was inspired by “Who Framed Roger Rabbit.”