Quicklinks:
|
Great Writing - Home > SF > A Night on the town
| READING ROOM | ||||
|---|---|---|---|---|
|
| COMMUNITY | |||
|---|---|---|---|
|
| ABOUT GREAT WRITING | ||
|---|---|---|
|
| WORK AWAITING REVIEW |
|---|
|
| GW IS... |
|---|
|
Great Writing creative writing community is designed to prompt ideas
and provide inspiration and motivation within aspiring and amateur
authors. Whatever your topic; from love poetry to Doctor Who or Harry
Potter fan fiction, Great Writing's online writing group is where you
can make new friends and improve your creative writing. |
| WHO'S ONLINE |
|---|
| We have 1334 guests online and 7 members online |
Science Fiction and Fantasy
| print friendly version | |
| A Night on the town | |
| By Scrawl | ||||||||||||||||||
| 09 January 2008 | ||||||||||||||||||
|
This is a fusion of my two earlier pieces with some modifications based mainly on the comments received. I stepped into the darkened doorway to get out of the rain, I hadn't bothered with an overcoat and my suit jacket wasn't much protection. Besides which standing in the darkened doorway was as good a place as any to watch the flow of people such as it was. Most people wisely chose to follow the main street, with its lights, shop fronts and people. Only a few took the back alleys, they were the ones I was interested in. I noted they were almost exclusively male and, from the short stay it was obvious some were violating city by-laws. I didn’t care. I was interested in the other ones, the ones who went in but did not come out. Once the trickle of people slowed I crossed slowly to the alley and made my way down it, noting possible places they could have gone. It was a slow job as not only was I trying to be quiet but I didn't want to step in the filth or rip my suit. I had no desire to leave any evidence of my presence. There were only a few places they could have gone. It didn’t take long to find that one was private dwellings, one was a bar and one was a derelict building. I was bored, I needed a bit of excitement, something to stir up the blood. I entered the bar. I stopped in the doorway ostensibly to let my eyes adjust, in fact I wanted to have a look around before going in. After the dark of the street the bar was overly bright, the bar took up most of one wall and behind it was an array of bottles and a mirror that was in need of cleaning. The bar itself looked to be the cleanest part to the room. Although it was fairly busy not all of the people I had noticed were in here, and the place smelled. It smelled of sweat, poor quality beer, and cigarette smoke. I walked up to the bar and adjusted my rain spotted silk tie in the mirror, laid my cane against the bar and, after scanning the bottles behind the bar, ordered a bacardi. I noticed that the glass was clean and paid the barman, tipping appropriately. The grimy mirror showed that the rain had barely affected my hair or my suit; I sipped my drink then put the glass down. I took off my wristwatch, and sat it so that I could see the second hand going round before resuming my drink. I waited, in a place like this I looked so far out of place that someone would point it out. They always did. It took two and a half minutes, I was impressed. Self-control always impresses me. I watched in the mirror as a tall, muscled man wearing jeans, a T-shirt and reeking of alcohol walked, well staggered, over. He had a poor attempt at a beard and an extreme case of body odour. Ignored him and sipped my drink. He loomed over me in what he thought was an intimidating way; I ignored him and sipped my drink. “We don’t like gays in here.” He rumbled. “Is that you and the other clients or do you have multiple personalities?” I asked smiling, he looked confused. “Are you trying to be a smartass?” “No.” I grinned, “Not at all.” “Are you gay?” “No, Bisexual. Why? Are you short of company?" I watched as what I said sank in, his face started to redden then he swung at me. I stepped aside, lifted my cane and moved away from the bar. His hand reached behind him in what he fancied was a fast move and emerged with a Fairbairn-Sykes fighting knife, I shook my head. He grinned and lunged, I danced aside and struck his head with my cane, hard enough to annoy but not hard enough to damage. He roared and attacked, I pirouetted, allowing him to blunder past and twisted the cane pulling it apart. In my left hand I held a stick, in my right a three foot long, double edged, Toledo steel fighting sword. He swung round then stopped dead, looking at his seven inch knife and my, significantly longer, sword. “If I have to use this I will kill you.” I said, “I do not like my sexuality being insulted or being used as an insult, but I am willing to put it down to you being drunk. This time. Either sit down or we finish this.” “Fuuuuuuuck yoouuuuu!” he attacked. I sighed and lunged, pushing the razor sharp blade neatly through his windpipe and using the cane to knock aside his knife. I withdrew the blade and cursed as blood jetted onto my jacket, my nose wrinkling as his bowels released. I stepped aside and let him fall. I carefully cleaned the blade on the back of his T-shirt, put away the sword and walked over to the bar. I took out my wallet and counted out eighty dollars. “Give that to whoever takes the trash out.” I smiled, finished my drink, replaced my wristwatch and left. It was still raining, but not as hard. Ignoring the effect it was having on my suit I made my way down the alley, seeking the deepest, darkest shadow I could find. I found it near an overfull dumpster, a doorway with no light falling on it at all, I slipped into the meagre shelter and scanned the alley. Unsurprisingly no one had followed me, and the alley was deserted. In the relatively fresh air of the alley I could smell the tang of adrenalin amid the heady scent of freshly spilled blood. I ripped my jacket off with a curse and threw it into the dumpster; I'd have to hunt now. I wondered where to hunt tonight. And whom. I had a few prospective targets under observation, just to make sure that no one else was hunting them too. That could be messy. My favourite was a spoiled rich boy, just turned seventeen. I had seen him using his money and size to get what he wanted from those poorer, smaller and weaker. He fancied himself as a predator. That decided me; tonight he would learn how he made those others feel - and then some. The question was where would he be? It was Friday night, on Fridays he liked a drink. He always went to one of only three places, which narrowed it down. I smiled to myself as the rain stopped, time to go. I sauntered along the alley, allowing the ferrule of my cane to tap with each step I took. I reached the main street unmolested. Checking out his favourite places took time, and he wasn't at either of the ones in the town, which meant he had gone to Noah’s, a roadhouse with strippers and prostitutes, neither of whom were always legal. He liked that, I'd seen him charm, bribe and force young girls to satisfy his desires. His name was Hank. Hank parked the car in the lot behind the bar, got out, locked up and sauntered towards the door. Although he wasn’t yet eighteen he was admitted without comment, he was big enough to be legal, he looked legal and he obviously had money. In fact, Hank had everything he wanted. If he wanted it, Daddy paid for it. He even had his own apartment. Life was good. Hank liked the seedier bars, it was easier to get willing girls and at six feet four with the build of a football player, he wasn’t easily frightened. He often joked that he wasn’t afraid of the dark because he was the biggest, baddest thing in it. He was wrong, but he didn’t know that. Yet. Inside the bar was poorly lit and a small, circular stage was surrounded by chairs and tables. Hank bought himself a beer and chose a table that would have a good view but, once the lights were on the stage, couldn’t be seen too clearly. He liked the idea that he could see them and they couldn’t see him. Over the next half hour, the seats and tables filled up with men and beer glasses respectively. Barmaids started to clear away the empties and take orders, and then the lights came on. Music began to play from a music system that had seen better days, and the first girl took to the stage. She did her number then left, the barmaids circulated more beer. Hank smiled to himself and fondled the barmaid while he ordered a beer, she didn’t object. The music changed to a slow, moody number and the bar went quiet. That usually meant a new girl or a special. A low murmur passed through the crowd as large, muscled men politely requested a few patrons to leave and, after they did, locked the doors. The music picked up and the girls came onto the stage. Hank looked at the girls and smiled to himself, he knew them both and he knew that they were both younger than he was. The girls started dancing, and then stripping each other, the younger girl was naked first. Once the older girl was naked it should have ended, it didn’t. They went into a sex show as a voice announced that both girls were to be auctioned for the evening, singly or together. The sex show continued through the bidding, which got fairly outrageous, Hank had no worries. He got more money in a week than these guys earned in a month; he wasn’t surprised when he won the bidding war. He made his way to the basement level changing rooms that the girls would be using, on the way he arranged for them to arrive dressed. He sat out of sight of the door, tonight would be fun. The girls arrived at the changing room excited about how high the bidding had gone after all they would get ten percent. They walked in looking for the client, and once they closed the door they saw him. Their smiles vanished. They knew him. He knew their real names. Hank smiled. As he pushed the younger girl to her knees and explained in detail what he wanted from her and her sister, he decided that this would be a perfect night. Outside the bar, I waited for my chance. He would have to come out sooner or later, as it turned out it was later which suited me fine. The darkness was my friend and Hank thought it was his. I watched the patrons trickle out of the bar and head home, then the lights dimmed and the staff began to leave. I calmly slashed Hank’s tyres, and then melted into the shadows by the wall to wait. There were still a few people to leave, including Hank. Finally, the two girls came out followed by Hank and another man; I smiled as they left with the older man. Hank walked to his car as the two girls and the older man drove off in an old pick-up. Once the pick-up had left the car park I turned my attention to Hank. When Hank saw the flat tyres he looked as if he might cry then, predictably, he cursed and threatened and demanded that if whoever had done it was still around they come out and fight like a man. I smiled at his heightened colour, and the veins standing out on his neck. His fury was almost tangible. I reached out and crunched some of the gravel as if it had been stepped on; when he turned to look I lobbed a stone at his windshield, cracking it. As it cracked, he spun and ran towards where he thought the stone had come from, cursing. He roared his challenge again; in reply I smashed a stone into his wing mirror. When he turned back towards it, momentarily presenting his back to me I jumped effortlessly onto the rain slick roof. Unable to find anyone lurking in the shadows he came stomping back to the car, still cursing. Now to begin in earnest. First, I sent a small stone into his back, irritating rather than painful. He bellowed out his challenge again. I laughed shrilly, the sound eerily hard to place in the dark and sent the next stone into his headlamp; the broken glass would be useful. His threats got more creative. I reached out mentally again, took up a sliver of glass and slashed his shirt. He cursed, but his voice was no longer as confident as it had been. I slashed again, drawing blood. He ran for the car, fumbled out his keys and let himself in; I slashed his arm first then the cream leather upholstery. He let the keys go, bad mistake. I mentally grabbed them and hurled them into the dark. Showing an intelligence that I wouldn’t have given him credit for Hank slammed the car door locked it and stayed sitting in the car. I sent a barrage of small stones, gravel really, against his car and jumped lightly to the ground behind the bar. I slowly walked round the bar and grinned, he was still inside the car. I glided through the shadows until I could see into the car; he was still on edge but appeared to think that it was all over. I used a mental hand to press hard on the horn; he almost leapt off his seat. I unleashed another shrill laugh into the night and watched him tense up again. I made my way to the car and tapped on the roof, he almost jumped out of his seat for a second time. I dangled a set of keys – not his – and smiled inquisitively. He opened the door. I lunged, baring my fangs. Dinner is served. I don’t usually kill when I feed, for Hank I made an exception. I don’t like sexual predators on my feeding grounds. It makes my prey far too wary and can spread some rather unpleasant diseases. It taints the blood and, like tainted meat, tainted blood is not fit for dining on. I wandered around the car park until I found his keys then returned to the car and opened the trunk, I grinned when I saw the toolbox. I opened it, chose a screwdriver, closed it again and locked the trunk. It didn’t take long to damage the wound in his neck beyond recognition, can’t have the press finding out he was bitten. I put the keys in the ignition. Wouldn’t want to have people wonder why a dead body was in a car with the keys at the other end of the parking lot. I had no concern about fingerprints; I don’t produce the chemicals necessary to make them. I started the engine, placed his foot on the gas pedal, put the car in gear and released the brake. As the car raced forward I slammed the door and watched. As the car smashed into the wall of Noah’s, setting off the alarm I darted into the shadows and headed home.
Only registered users can rate and write comments. Powered by AkoComment 2.0! |
||||||||||||||||||
Welcome. 
Next item
|
|---|