These are a couple of things I wrote a while ago. Figure I may as well stick them here so I don’t lose them….
Mmm, it’s back again, that impending feeling of dread. The last time we got together I ended up with a bullet in my back and my coffers empty. But damn, she’s got the tongue of a serpent, and man can she talk. Anyway, here I am, back at the Black Dawn, drinking my beer. Waiting. She’s always late. Always has an excuse. Everyone always believes her.
The darkness shatters as she slips through the door. Heads turn, beers hit the table. What’s a dame like that doing in a joint like this? I know, she’s here to see me. There’s a certain feeling of enjoyment as all heads follow her walking to your table. The soft drum beats of her hips. That slow rhythm and sway, mesmerizing.
I’ve forgiven the 45 minute wait already.
The wind was howling. Don’t know what it was, but that goddamn sound sent shivers up my back. The sound of a thousand fingernails on a chalk board. The night was etched through with silver where the stars could break the cloud cover. Raining. Always, goddamn, raining. I’d been out here three days, waiting, watching, wondering. The last time I’d done this I’d been 18, and it didn’t turn out well. I have a feeling this time’s a bust too. Those little bastards are elusive.