incentive
he looked at the gun, at her face, at the resolve he saw there, then turned away, as if that would remove her existence. i’m not sure that’s something i’m comfortable creating, he said, his voice breaking at the end, in a way that shamed him.
her eyes were the same steel blue as the gun's barrel, and from the shadows, there was a glint of light on the gun, a glint of hate in her eyes. do it, she repeated...write what i want you to write, something i can understand, something i can relate to--something i can work with; not that high brow schmaltz you insist on giving me.
he sighed, and turned to his typewriter, feeling the air around him shimmering with the unspoken threat to his person-- and typed what his editor wanted and needed and demanded.
“blake snuffed out his cigarette, then slugged back a shot of rye, wondering if taking this case would be the worst idea he ever had as a p.i.”
enjoyed this. Kind of circular, the story he begins to write could continue where you started..
ReplyDeleteI don't know crime noir; but I liked this. There's a little bit of "play it one more time Sam; play 'As Time Goes By'" in there somewhere.
ReplyDeleteI like how that face is way more dangerous than the gun...
ReplyDeleteYou got the rhythms right.
Nice loop. Good call.
ReplyDeleteoh! thanks all... i wasn't comfortable with straight noir... so, i went here.
ReplyDelete