Heap of Bones

Intro to possible short story, never completed.

I was leaning against the lamppost on Bleeker Street, contemplating the last inch of my last cigarette. It was a raw, foggy, steel blue evening, just past sunset. Tendrils of cloud drfted along the docks and across the pavement, moved by a creepy, cold breeze that moaned down the alleys.

 

The mist gathered on the brim of my fedora, a legacy from my father, and dripped down the neck of my London Fog, also his hand-me-down. I wore them to bolster bolster my courage since the neighborhood was none too friendly after dark.

 

The need for me to be in this godforsaken place at this hour was pressing. I was waiting to meet my contact, an old hippie whose luck was sliding out faster than the tide. She had knowledge crucial to my current case, knowledge I was paying dearly for. I'd been here for more than an hour, waiting. The hackles on the back of my neck told me there was trouble brewing. You know what I mean--the little hairs that stand up when you're being watched but you can't see the watcher?

 

I took a long, last sour drag on the damp cigarette butt then flicked it at a puddle forming near the yellow dotted line in the center of Bleeker. Hunching my shoulders in the increasing cold, I mulled over the possibility the old woman wasn't going to show, finally deciding to hoof it back to my rental, a rolling wreck parked three blocks away by a derelict warehouse.

 

I tightened the belt on Daddy's fogger and, making a last eyeball sweep of the area,  straightened up and headed toward the curb. The bulb in the street light was burned out. That's why the old lady chose this corner, anonymity. I stepped off the curb just as a car with no headlights squealed around the corner, balancing precariously on two wheels, a gun spraying bullets out the passenger window. Ducking the deadly rain, I tripped over something laying in the gutter, something soft, lumpy and very, very still.

 

Startled, I lost my balancing, my right foot slipping into the broken rain sewer grate. The heel of one of my favorite red spikes caught in the twisted metal, and snaped off. I cursed on my way down, felt sharp pain on the right side my head, then the lights went for an instant. It took a bit for the ringing in my ears to clear enough for me to open my eyes and take stock of the situation. I wished I hadn't. I was nose to nose with a corpse and couldn't get up. Excruciating pain lanced through my ankle and drained away what strength I had.

Reviews

[Leah]

what?! where's the ending??? i LOVE it! but i want more!! :)