Trigger warning; abandonment, suicidal thoughts
character background: Sheriff, Carter Johnson
belongs to: Devil's Peak / alt. D.P.
Coming home to an empty house wasn’t worth the effort. The silence and emptiness joined their forces and sat on my chest, as soon as I opened the entrance door. I had to fight the urge to turn around and run. To. Just. Sigh. To give up everything and vanish from the face of the earth.
What could I do? Saddle up and go back to the office? I already worked my way through all the left-over paperwork my deputies couldn’t be bothered to submit. I bought supplies for the kitchen and the office. Cleaned up my desk, the fridge, the kitchen, the coffee machine, the cells, the archive. Ordered ammo, made this year’s inventory. Maybe I should start the cold cases. Continue reading “Wounds Shall Hurt”
Part 1 HQ
Part 2: Biwako-Ohashi-Bridge
Officers: Kuro, Lou Rouxgaroux, Felix Kanagawa
We reached Kyoto by bullet train. Rain clouds made the October afternoon look like an early winter greeting. Two very bored uniforms welcomed us at the platform.
First, their halfhearted attempts to hide their disinterest didn’t rub me the wrong way, but when one of them placed a folded up paper into my outstretched hand expecting a handshake… I wanted to punch them. Who was I kidding, I wanted to punch everybody. Always. It was a note was from Superintendant Yatomi.
“That’s just peachy!” Lou read it over my shoulder.
Continue reading “Fox, Wolf and Dragon (2)”
Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department,
Kuro (BLACK, han'yo),
Lou Rouxgaroux (Lou Wolfwolf, werewolf),
Felix Kanagawa (HAPPY Kanagawa river, river spirit)
Part 1 HQ
Lou sat on the office couch reading his book.
Well… No, he didn’t. He was pretending to read, and he was pretending to sit. Being a werewolf seemingly gave him cat-like abilities to turn into liquid in and on any surface or furniture.
Lou was focused on Felix’s lunch.
How could I tell?
I was eying that lunch too. Continue reading “Fox, Wolf and Dragon (1)”
1 & 2; 3 ; 4; 6; 7
“I’ll tell you. For the sake of-” Farnsw-Peter stared me down, eyes like liquid fire, fierce and angry. “You won’t stop, will you?” His gaze locked on mine. I shook my head not able to utter a word. My mouth was dry. Funny. Never thought he had it in him. What a surprise!
“I won’t leave anything out. That’s what you’re afraid of. I don’t want fame or fortune. I don’t care about my mark in history. Not like this.” He expected something from me, but when he saw, I didn’t know what, he shook his head. He was disappointed with me?
“I’m sorry. I truly am, Peter.” I tried softly. Where was he heading? What did he want, if not being a part of such a significant, table-turning discovery? Was money on his mind?
Continue reading “Black Door”
chuck wendig prompt – song lyrics prompt
…”Don’t you ever tame your demons, but always keep’em on a leash” … HOZIER, ARSONIST’S LULLABY
Cold. Someone slaps me. It’s wet, hard. And freezing. My arms and legs hurt. Can’t move. Getting dark.
“Wake up, rat. You won’t duck justice!” Barking. Far away a dog barks. “WAKE THE FUCK UP! Don’t you dare to die! 911- Hello? Yes. Send an ambulance, fast. Corinth 1507. There’s been a fire. Yes, male, Caucasian, shot several times. I don’t know… Yeah… I’m starting CPR.”
Continue reading “Traitor’s Hell”
“Sumimasen…“ It’s a reflex, really. I shouldn’t have…
I hold out the single warm glove, I pick up. The old lady turns around and stares in many shades of confusion playing around her eyes. I must have spoken Japanese. Her brows shoot up, seeing her glove in my hand.
“Thank you laddie! Bless you.“ I smile and bow slightly. Bright sunshine warms my back. The heavy tarry feeling on my hand stays, like mud on boots. The old lady turns away and hobbles down Park Lane. Her grey tweed jacket flickers with shadow and light, as she passes under the canopy of the trees nearby.
No matter how hard I try, the sadness stings in my throat, burns behind my eyes. I rip my gaze away from her back.
The old lady dies.
Today… Continue reading “Shadow Duties and the Word of Beasts (M.E.L.)”
John and Benny dive simultaneously behind the blue Chesterfield, knocking over a marble-topped mahogany coffee table. Around them, bullets smack into the eggshell colored wall. With two loud thuds they land ungracefully. Stucco decoration rains down on them.
„I’m too old for this kind of crap!“ John grunts grabbing his revolver and the bag full with money.
„You have no right to open your idiocy vent!“ A bullet sings past Peter’s left ear. „Ever! Again!“ He grits his teeth, and peeks around the bits of the sofa. Ammo eats at the wooden floor boards, as he retreats.
The splinters jump, like popcorn on a hot stove.
Continue reading “moving in circles”