Detroit, Michigan 1992
The building stands tall, intimidating the skyline. A sign of wealth and power, a sign of greed and arrogance. The doors an obvious choice, I push, it gives way.
The entrance hallway looks like a horror movie gone wrong, dark lifeless walls make an echo of my footprint. In the distance I see a light, flickering an inviting wave. This isn’t heaven, feels like hell.
It doesn’t take me long to reach it, dark figures suddenly rush with color as my eyes adjust. Two men argue whilst another man sits, seemingly enjoying the nights entertainment. Anger rises, tempers fray one man pulls a knife, the other a gun.
The gunshot silences the room, the seated man claps his hands like sandpaper on cardboard. The gun falls to the ground, the shooter to his knees.
“What have I done!”
His hands find his face and are met by hollow eyes.
The one man audience consoles the grieving assassin. His hand squeezes his shoulder, reassuring him with hands made of concrete.
“What had to be done.”
I’ve seen three murders tonight, one more and it’s a new record. I turn to leave, not much I can do for a man with a hole in his head, need to call for back up, get this place cornered o…
...darkness...
...an empty feeling overwhelms me, I float on seas of black lace under milky skies...
I awake to find myself seated, creaking bonds hold me in place. The room is black, only one light allows me any insight, it shows my accommodation. A wooden chair, rope and an aching head complete the ensemble.
This isn’t heaven, feels like hell.
To be continued…
The building stands tall, intimidating the skyline. A sign of wealth and power, a sign of greed and arrogance. The doors an obvious choice, I push, it gives way.
The entrance hallway looks like a horror movie gone wrong, dark lifeless walls make an echo of my footprint. In the distance I see a light, flickering an inviting wave. This isn’t heaven, feels like hell.
It doesn’t take me long to reach it, dark figures suddenly rush with color as my eyes adjust. Two men argue whilst another man sits, seemingly enjoying the nights entertainment. Anger rises, tempers fray one man pulls a knife, the other a gun.
The gunshot silences the room, the seated man claps his hands like sandpaper on cardboard. The gun falls to the ground, the shooter to his knees.
“What have I done!”
His hands find his face and are met by hollow eyes.
The one man audience consoles the grieving assassin. His hand squeezes his shoulder, reassuring him with hands made of concrete.
“What had to be done.”
I’ve seen three murders tonight, one more and it’s a new record. I turn to leave, not much I can do for a man with a hole in his head, need to call for back up, get this place cornered o…
...darkness...
...an empty feeling overwhelms me, I float on seas of black lace under milky skies...
I awake to find myself seated, creaking bonds hold me in place. The room is black, only one light allows me any insight, it shows my accommodation. A wooden chair, rope and an aching head complete the ensemble.
This isn’t heaven, feels like hell.
To be continued…
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