... i don't have to much to show for it but here it is.
its the beginning to a novel/story i have been thinking of..... pretty much about a crazy detective, its going to be a murder mystery, but this is just the intro so none of the plot are there, just some character development and exposition. 2 characters are introduced, and hookers, everything i write ends up with hookers? whats up with that.
i don't know if i should be posting this but i want some opinions and suggestions, but seriously don't just tell me it sucks, tell me why it sucks.
Why do I always end up in a dark alley surrounded by thugs, with knives? One thug to my right and three to my left, well only of them 2 have knives, the other has a chain with a hook, and at least he isn’t a sheep conforming to his friends. Except he is in a gang, trying to beat me, so how much of an individual can he be.
The ally is quite stereotypical , garbage bins, a couple of fire escapes, I even think there is a bum sleeping over there, well I hope he is sleeping. Though it would explain the smell. The thugs are equally as stereotypical, bandana’s, tattoos, lack of personal hygiene. The one thug standing back of the rest, seems to still be in training, as I can see actual skin in-between his tattoos and he doesn’t look like he is actually greasy.
“Listen homes, you need to get off our turf” thug number one has a strong Mexican accent, “and stop sticking your nose in our business.” Too bad he is white as a sheet. You can tell he grew up with a nice family; mom and dad both probably had good jobs, so obviously he has justification to rebel. And wear a silly outfit.
The one with the chain starts swinging the chain in a menacing way. Well it would be if it wasn’t obvious that he has no formal training in hooked chain swinging, and if he didn’t look like Elmer Fudd’s tattooed gang banger brother. Thug number 4 says nothing and looks scared, his hand is shaking so much I bet he could carve a pretty interesting pumpkin, or jack-o-lantern I guess, I miss Halloween, free candy rules, FOCUS. Guys with knives and fake Mexican accents now candy latter.
I guess it is time to sound confident. “listen guys I don’t want a fight, I just need Jimmy, his parents want him home, that happens maybe the kidnapping charge goes away and no one here gets hurt.” Especially me. And me, wait, never mind.
They all laugh in unison as if there an audience at a George Carlin show; I miss him, funny guy. One laughs a little more nervously then the rest, like he is laughing so he doesn’t cry.
The leader thug, the suburban rebel, shows no fear, damn. “You got bout 3 seconds to turn your white ass round and run home to mamma.”
It’s never easy is it? You’re tellin’ me! SHUT UP. I am tired of playing, time to start this so I can finish it. In a flash a chain flies towards my head, I was so busy trying to ignore that other guy I almost lost my head. I ducked in just the nick of time and the chain wraps around the fire escape. Our luck seems to be changing. Stop distracting me. Sorry.
As chain boy rassles with his misfortune the knife welding white Mexican lunges at me, thank god there not trained, but I am. I know several forms of martial arts, to many probably sometimes they get all jumbled up, blame the A.D.D. Out comes my Escrima sticks, and I block the fist lunge with ease. You are good at this. You said you would shut up. Fine but you spelt Eskrima wrong.
Before I can argue the second thug tries to skewer me. I decide to disarm this one right away to avoid a second pointy attack. I use the sticks to knock the knife out of his hand and give him a blow in the abdomen to knock the wind out him. The first thug comes back at me but he holds his knife to wide and leaves himself open to a stick to the face, maybe the broken nose will give him street cred.
The scared thug has yet to make a move. “Listen it doesn’t have to be this way,” TURN AROUND! Shut up I am..... FUCK. Chain boy seamed to get his chain unravelled and wiped it at the back of my head. Everything is fuzzy, spinning; did I remember to turn off the iron? You don’t own an iron, now get up. I try to stand up but my legs feel like jell-o, and at least 3 of them start kicking me down. The back of my head feels cold and wet. You’re bleeding. Now get up before it happens again. I can’t get up, I feel like I am going to puke. Fine, let me do it. Everything seems to go black.
Next thing I remember I am standing and the punks are running scared, except for Thug one, he is laying at my feet trying to catch his breath. I did what I could now get out of here. Maybe that is a good idea, I still feel woozy. I turn and run out of the ally back towards my car. Leave the car you can’t drive like this. It’s only a couple blocks back to the office I will walk. The city streets are so familiar to me now. It seems that I spend all my time walking them learning their secrets. I love being a detective, current head injuries not withstanding of course. I enjoy figuring things out, finding out why something has happened and who is responsible. The occasional street fights I can live with, I hope. Hey you almost missed your turn, less time on the internal monolog and more time getting back to work and receiving medical attention. Who are you? Don’t worry about it just walk. Fine but only because I am sure I have a concussion.
I can see my office from here, I am actually successful enough to be able to afford a nice office in a better part of town but having it here keeps me central to the majority of people I have to look at to find answers. I enjoy being in the heart of town, where the real people are. Not the...
Stand up buddy your almost there. Stand up? Did I fall? Yeah, it’s call massive blood loss so hurry it up. People always look at you funny when you have trouble standing up on a public street. Ok, where was I, ah, yes. I would never want to spend all my time on the fringes of town where all the fake people live. You live there. That was not my choice I didn’t buy it. You know you could have moved by now. I can’t do that, I just can’t. Why not, it has been years.
‘“Will you two just shut up?”
“What? We never said anything. Hey man your bleeding.” Two hookers, with hearts of gold, come to check on me. I didn’t even notice they were there.
“I’m fine I just need to get,” my office is about 2 more store fronts away. “right there.”
“Yes Harold we know where you are going, you need a hand.” Brandi is young and pretty, good for making money on the street but not good for her soul.
“Oh yeah, ok right, no. I can make it on my own, but if you see me fall between here and my office, feel free to call an ambulance.”
“Yeah sure right, lets go Brandi.” Marisa is a bit more jaded but still a nice girl for a hooker.
“I am sure I can make it on my own anyway.” I stumble the last 20 feet to the door. After fumbling in my pockets for my keys I manage to get in the door but only make it another 10 feet and collapse on the floor. I drift in and out of conciseness
“Harold? Get up. Oh shit your bleeding, again.” Someone helps me up to my office. Who is it?
“Miranda?” did she come back?
“Who is Miranda? Harold it’s me, Jade, your secretary. Do you know where you are?”
“Uh... Yeah sorry I think I may off passed out there. I made some major headway on the Sismon case.” Heh, head way. That’s funny because you may have a concussion. Will you please just leave me alone? “I just need to lie down.”
“No, you just need to go to a hospital.” Jade is nice, she is Asian-Canadian. I always liked Canadians, so nice. She came down here to try and be a model, but has a hard time finding work being just about 5 feet tall. She works for me because I give her anytime off when she needs to go to a gig or audition. That seems to be happening more and more.
“No it isn’t that bad, it’s just a small cut that is bleeding a lot. The falling and not getting up is from the getting kicked in the spine.” I lift up my shirt and by the look on her face I probably have a size 13 burse on my back in a couple places. Just give me some advil and let me sleep on the couch.” Yeah my office has a couch.
“Are you sure?” she starts to clean the wound on my head with the first aid kit that gets way to much use. “I guess it doesn’t look that bad. Probably doesn’t even need stitches.”
“See, I told you it wasn’t that bad, now let me sleep.”
“Fine I will get you a blanket” she rushes to the closet as I flop face first on the couch. “Here just don’t roll off the couch.” She puts the blanked on me, and walks to the door. She is sweet, and really beautiful. She is sweet but I will have to trust you on the second part. You are going to have to start looking at other women some day you know. Maybe someday, but not now.
“Will you 2 please shut up and let me sleep.”
Sorry boss. Good night.
Sleep comes quick and beautifully like a friend I haven’t seen in years.
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