The storm lashed tree branches and grim reminders against the only pane of glass left in the decrepit house that kept his bad form in my glad vision, yet just out of reach;  my angers in…

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Considering my mellow personality, you wouldn’t believe how often folk say it, but as I start cutting another set of lines on the CD case for Aja, here Ray Ray himself comes with, “Stagger, why don’t you give it a rest?”

“Can’t stop, won’t stop,” I shoot back, working my magic with the Black Am Ex and feeling my nerves already singing arias at the prospect of another poke of flake, and with a sniff I add,…

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Memorial Day, I’m making a study of my toes through the sheets while the rest of my body absorbs Tia, tucked under my arm, so I got to wonder aloud, “Is wanting this all it comes down to, Tia sweet?”

She looks up with those eyes spilling over with the blue that Heaven’s trying to be, and she wonders back, “What’s that, Stagger?”

I wave my hand, and…

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After the smoke has settled into a stink yellowing the den walls and morning comes to kick Ray Ray and I square in the nose, I realize I’m feeling a mite out of sorts, what with the better share of a Bourbon county distillery leaving my body with one bitch of a bill.

I rub the modern art piece my hair’s become, lift my face off of the floor and ask Ray Ray, “You got any Ale-8 in the icebox?”…

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Tia and I are doing a pass by of the French Quarter—our first since that whole trouble with the Latin Kings drying up my New Orleans corners and trying to fit my nuts in a vice—when this shabby dude come up and stick his shabby-ass hand at us, asking, “Spare some change for a Vet?”

I stop and start to fish out some coinage, model of Christian charity that I am, but since I always like to give the veterans a look…

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Jack Wyman had a cubic zirconia stare that could make a rattlesnake blink, and his bite was far worse than his formidable bark.



“The fuck you want?” he growled, lowering the half-empty longneck just enough to spit out the message and glower. His left hand instinctively balled into a fist -- dirty nails biting into palm -- under the bar’s brass handrail.



The stranger, in faded denim from collar to boot cuff, a real L.L. Bean type, had done nothing more than take the seat… Continue

Clark Mannish was pacing around in the lobby bellowing, "Hello? Anybody here?" when Romeo stepped out of the hallway to greet him, mere moments after he had banged on the desk bell. The guy was a mess, as guys always are after untold days on the road in varying states of shamed anxiety, or angry resentment, or depressed resolve, or some combination of all that and more for having been exiled from New York City. Romeo wasn't yet privy to what Mannish had done to earn himself a stint at the Bella… Continue

Madge lay in Romeo's arms, sleeping in her soft way, as light as a doll against his chest. He felt his body begin to settle against the mattress, the tension of the day loosening its grip on his muscles, his jaw unclenching, his mind giving way to allowing the sounds of crickets, night birds, the soft click and whir of the oscillating fan, and his own steady heartbeat to blend together and fade out into beautiful, blank sleep. The jolt that went through his head when the front desk bell… Continue

He was a $20 an hour private eye because no police force would have him. Three divorces, four packs a day, and a drinking habit to drown a fish had turned him into a mean sucker.



Then he got the bodyguard gig from a rich old tycoon: keep the dame alive till Saturday night and a bag full of hundreds was coming his way. He wasn’t sure when the sexy chippy had crawled under his skin and taken hold of him, but he found himself following… Continue

Dark writers, take your best shot at this crime noir picture. Title your post, "Crime Noir Challenge" then your title. [note, I changed the pic since original posting but it's the same premise]

Shreve watched the house. The halogen streetlights cast long shadows across the road, filling the night air with yellow motes, like sediment swirling in water at the bottom of a cracked glass. He checked the revolver, adjusted his jacket, and opened the door. At Tessa's window, he could see that Mick was with her, the brute, and they weren't dancing anymore, at least not dancing on their feet. He walked around the house, popped the lock, and then trudged through the silent hallway and into the… Continue

Romeo squinted at the guest book, read the name at the bottom of the list - Blake Mannish - but it didn't ring a bell, did he know this guy yet? That bloody metallic taste flooded the back of his tongue and set his teeth on edge, the hair on the back of his neck prickled and an electric tremor ran up his spine. He looked at the big, black phone on the desk as it began to vibrate with the force of its warning bell and thought of air raid sirens, fire alarms, parochial school, death, disaster,… Continue

Romeo was in a hurry when he breezed through the motel lobby, keys in hand and the temporary freedom of the road in mind. A supply trip to San Angelo wasn't exactly a pleasure cruise, but hey, he knew how to savor fresh air sucked through a straw. And anyway, he had a good feeling that a new shipment of records from Sha-Sha was waiting for him at the post office, brand new recordings from jam sessions at 3 Deuces, Billy Eckstine's, Jimmy Ryans' and who knew where else – anywhere Sha-Sha could… Continue