PrologueA Chapter by Treo LeGigeoThe bar stinks of stale cigar smoke and spilt alcohol. The light is dim, barely scattering dull yellow flickers on the grimy walls as tinny melodies from the jukebox mingle with hushed dealings and growled threats. It's not a nice place, but it's not a bad place. It's even a good place for those who know the comforting arms of the gloom.
There's a man at a table, black hair and heavy coat blending in with the backdrop, one who has spent the last half-decade dancing in the shadows of Europe. He's like an artist in his own way, one who works with the whims and frailties of human greed rather than the paints or the clay. But rumour has it now that he's leaving, melting away. Which is what brings the other man.
The second man, pale, flits at the counter, barely a spectre in the murk. He doesn't belong, comes almost close, but doesn't. He stands on the other side of the scene, after instead of with. And he's after that first man there, before it's too late, because it's been too long already.
The year is 1937, Minsk, and on the fringes a world is stirring. © 2013 Treo LeGigeoAuthor's NoteReviews
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4 Reviews Added on November 27, 2012 Last Updated on April 3, 2013 AuthorTreo LeGigeoSydney, NSW, AustraliaAboutI'm from Australia, so some people may find that I spell things differently. I love writing and have had a couple of publications of short stories and novellas under a pseudonym. I started .. more..Writing
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