The night was beginning to settle, its stars shimmering on off the cooling bristling winds as they waves in thru the branched trees in on the lake. The cars roll along over its bridge, the lights as they shine from in the lamp poles, headlights as they lead way on and over. He stands in, observes, watches as each sparkling light leads from in its own shine from off its crystalline water’s.
A sight that means nothing to him, his feet as the crush in to the mud from in his steps, cracks as he steps on twigs; crushing them in to the stones that lead on in to the lakes shore. He stands his stand; now finding his place from in sin. He sets a smirk, looks down on to the rippling waves as they spring in towards his feet, the light as their left with only the sands to set a shine from off.
He kneels down, lifts as tone in to his right hand as his left holds back, up his dark grey suede trench coat. He tilts his head back, lifting his left hand up, setting it on his black hat, tilting it back as he stood back up. The rock in his right hand, he looks to his right; rolls his eyes along the rolling cars from on the bridge then slowly looks in to the water from under, scrolls slowly above the water until they matched with the building in front of him from on the other side of the lake.
He watches, its lights lighting up like a checkerboard, the candy cane poles in each corner of the fence around it lit up like the candy it self as the towering poles from above shed its lights from the building down along its side of the lake shore. He holds the rock in his hand, rubbing it as if it too was part of the lights from in the checkerboard like building. He drops his head, sets his sight in along the shore lines from in the other side, spec for spec he watched as its lights set their gloom from in the now Tick Tack Toe scheme he seems to be in control of and now is as the whip from in his arm leashed the rock out in to the darkness of wind. He waits, knows, feels from in hic confident swing exactly where the is meant and how it’s going to land. Yet his eager breaths, the beats from in his heart, he lets the thing be, a patience from in the wind that seeps in on him from in its surround.
Him free, the building as put, a checkered board, a Tick Tack Toe table and his chip in its wind. To him it’s all a means for game, for now that is and now as it ends; the chip he played, has and indeed is, its mark on the board has been set and for him it’s now a score to be kept.
His stand; no longer as eager as it has once been. The game has now begun, its voice setting free from in the sound of mud as it crushes from in his feet. His step back, the look from in the crystalline water’s, the wind as it plays its roll now leaves him in on one last stare of the building, his thoughts of play and now wipes them out from in the grin he could have but insists on maintaining his roll, leaving the thought of a being from in reality in a wind of its own before letting the lights lead him away as they lead him in to the one stand from in the other side of the lake that holds the Prison so promptly put. His play from in the stance, its player from in the board as the building has been played. He steps back, begins a lead of his own from in the lights that led him in and now as he feels a need to elevate his blood as he walks along with the thought of having accomplished a play and now the score, his points played are yet to be matched from in that prison with the opponent he had once played and sets out, grinning from in his walk and holds the wait from in its play knowing its on and will be on the board.
Its lights out time from inside the prison. Jack Line stands from inside of the bars of his cell’s door. He listens in as the other inmates yell and holler out to the corridor man; telling him, asking him to run earnings from cell to cell. The corridor man does and has been since Jack has been serving time from in the wing. Jack watches on as the little old man, a old timer from in the prison, going on his ninth year now and yet hasn’t told Jack how or why he has landed him self in behind its cruel walls. He sets out his hand, collects what the inmates are holding out, telling him; who and where to send the smokes, papers, books and such.
Jack waits, he knows Tom is bound to pass by his end of the wing and if so, then the news he is waiting for, the news that has been setting its self from in the front page of the newspaper as a headline is his. It will make it the second, the news that he needs and has been ever since Tom had surprised him from in the first of the city’s terror that spilled its self all over the papers front page. A sight that most would disregard yet Tom took it upon him self to make sure the article fell in to the right hands before becoming scrapped and useless for he knew and now’s why Jack is sitting, has been from in behind the barred cell door for months now and knew the news would probably be the only thing to add life in thru the then dead beat cop who awaits his next parole hearing from after been denied and set back once again under the charge of man slaughter. A charge Tom too had witnessed and experience for him self from in the city’s new paper.
“Nothing yet boss.” The old man said, stepping in towards Jacks cell as he stands in behind its bars. “The cops haven’t sent it our way yet. Sunday; it’s the pits around here.”
“Ya thanks man.” Jack said as Tom steps in and stands in him self in front of the bars from on the cells door. Jack slides two cigarettes out from in between the bars. Tom steps in; turning his right shoulder in to the bars, his left hand comes up under his right grabbing the cigarettes then sliding them down in to his chest pocket then says. “I’ll have both for ya tomorrow.” Jack steps back as Tom walked on, he looks onto the clippings he cut out from in the papers pinned up above his desk then looks down along his left leg, steps then rolls him self on to the bed knowing in a second or two the lights are going to be shut off and out until he’s arise for breakfast.
The match fired lighting up what light he had been left with from in the day light up from in around the cigarette as it sticks to his lips. He looks over to the left, gets a glimpse of the articles pinned up on the wall above his desk, looks away, puffs the flame in to the end of the cigarette, looks down along his chest as the dark blue prison suit glows in under a splash from in the one sight he has been left with from in its civilized world; its lake as it flows in under the wired window set up in the wall from between his desk and bed. He puffs out a cloud of smoke, sends the flame in to a wisp of smoke, then sets the match in the ashtray on the floor left to his bed. He puffs on, blows the smoke out in to an empty wind from in the cell before he sets his head back in to the pillow and begins to go over the murders from in the news clippings as he has been doing all week since its first.
The rumbles as they shook in thru his hand, he clenches, closes eyes and lets the soothing feeling of innocents pass him by before the tense feeling once again shocks into him along with what sights he’s left to imagine from in the reads of the clipping. His gun lies there on the dirt ground, he watches as the descriptions from in the news clippings begin to spill in blood, its drips as his gun lays there untouched. His view of the women, her head as it’s pierced with a bullet, neck as it vibrates what’s left of its head down along her chest and in walks the shadow of another man, the killer. His eyes in under the shade of his black cap, arms blended in with the looseness of his long coat then as he steps in to a stance, he swings out the little girl from in behind him. He holds her out, lifts her up as he swings out the blade from in his left hand. Jack looks on to his gun, it sits there on the dirt inches away from the head less corps of a women. He try’s to move but cant, he watches as the man in the long coat, his eyes in under the shade of his own hat, holding the girl up with one hand. All Jack can hope for is a scream, a siren in calls for help, sending them out from in the back alley behind restaurant and out in to the ears of help. The blade goes up, wind as it flares a shine from off it. The lifeless girl drops from out of his hand, drops on to the ground. The man stepping her by, stepping over the bloody gushed head of the women then kicks Jacks gun in to his foot, “Get it over with.” He said. Jack stares on to him, his head as it shakes off the wall from in the budge of the gun banging in to his foot. The man turns his back, lets out a breath of grief, and then steps out under the alleys light. Jack watches, stares on to the gun resting in front of his foot, his thoughts go on, go over his investigation, its leads then match from in the sirens squeal.
He watches as the smoke goes from burn to ash leaving his un puffed cigarette in a means of its own. He sets down in to its trey, then looks up on to the wall as the news clippings rest from out of light. He stares on, resting his head on to the left side of his face, his breaths as he lets the useless thought from in his case pass him by as it did and does. His only thought for a match is from in his own gun as it did for him and against him as it was intended. Now useless as he lays in a place that’s set to lay the likes of the man who he had under investigation, a lead on and now being laughed at as his works continue to spill; out side and now from in the four walls that’s holding the one man who knows, seen and capable of bring him in.
A life is set and yet set in to his arms is one thing he isn’t going to deny. He looks down to his feet as he steps in under the inner city’s lights, he watches as the mud drips and flakes off from in each step. His feet; the one thing he knows people don’t seem to hold their interest in. The gun in his pocket; that’s one thing that he knows their not going to be denying from in their eye.
The street was set from in its gloom, Sunday; not a day for socializing or tending to the business from in the bars, pubs, and cafes that shed light from in the late night hour of its day. He steps on knowing that the women standing in front of the one bar that seems to have swallowed the street in whole as it’s the one and only hosting any of its hot-blooded entertainment from in under the Sunday night moons light.
He steps on, eyeballing the closing signs from on the windows of the shops left to him. The bar sitting on the corner of the block, the other side of the street holds its lock as does the shops from in his left as the street maintains its calm and cooling gloom. He watches as the women lifts her self on to the paper stand, pushes her red skirt down over her thighs then grabs a hold of her breasts with both hands as her black hair swished in the wind as her head shook.
“Cigarette.” The women leaning on the wall next to the bars door asked holding out the pack then pushes her self off the wall, slides her black dress down using her left hand then swings it up in front of her chest; patting down her white blouse then pulls back her blond hair before stopping in a stand in front of the burnet sitting on the paper stand.
“A looker.” The burnet said then grabs the cigarette from out of the blonds hand. The burnet steps back after sticking a match as the blond sucked back from in its flame. She looks on to the man; the looker. He steps in, keeping to the same pace, not paying much attention to the two. The blond stares on, looks on to him, down along his dark grey long coat, his black hat as they hide his eyes from in its shade, then down on to his black boots as they shine in under the dull blackness on his pants.
“Excuse Me,” He said in question as the blond sits up on the paper stand he’s hinting to get in to. He steps in, keeping his head in a downward tilt in order not to give the girls any more attention then he did as he stepped in. The blond stay her stand, her knees pointing out from off the paper stand, smoke as it blew from off her face.
“Hey.” She said then says. “Hi” as he stands there in front of her, waiting and expecting her to step down. “Quarters?” She asked spreading her legs, showing off her midsection as it bares with out a pair of panty’s. “Hum? I don’t bite.” She said as her knees opened and closed in the wind.
“Elle.” The burnet said stepping in behind the man known to them as the looker. The blond winks then looks on as he pulls out a roll of bills, holds it out in his left hand and continues to stare in to the paper box.
“Change?” The blond asked bring her right hand down in between her legs as their spread out in front of him. He turns to the left, holding a look onto the stand then follows in turning his head in to a step with out looking on or in to the blond as she bared her self for him.
“Come on.” She said jumping up off the paper stand then swinging out her left hand for her friend to join in.
He walks on, in thru the walk way and on to the next street. He listens as the girls talk, expressing the thrill from in the roll of bills he held out in his hand. He looks on to the paper stand from in the corner of the street sitting in under the busted lamp pole that’s meant to be lighting up the alley from in the corner of the block as its shops are all closed during the nights. He looks on, making as if he’s interested in the paper then stepped back, turned around and waved out his hand as he stepped in to the alley and stands in along the side wall of the café.
“Here.” The blond said after spaying mint flavored breath mint in to her mouth. The burnet grabs it from out of her hand as she stepped in to a faster pace leaving her to freshen up as she got in on the heat of the moment for her self.
“Elle.” The burnet called out standing in the alleyway, looking for her from in its dark then hears noise coming from the dumpster a few feet in along the left wall. She steps in, looking on then stops in her step as she seen Elle up on the dumpster, her close down on the floor as her legs hang from off the end.
“Yes.” Elle said positioning her self on top the dumpster as he commands. Her head leaning down from off the closed half of the lid as he stands in behind the opened half, watching as she swirls her tong, thinking he’s getting out from in his close.
“A dumpster.” The blond asked as she stepped in and grabbed a hold of Elle’s legs.
“Yes, Janice come on up.” Elle said. Janice steps out, looks down along the side of the dumpster then seen his hand waving out, waving her on up from in behind the other side.
“Is it safe?” Janice asked. “Hu is clean up there. I don’t like rats.” She said, letting her dress fall to the ground then lifts up her blouse and begins to climb on.
“Lay out like this.” Elle said as Janice climbed up, looking up over her breast then dropped her head back down. Janice lays her self out, her head leaning back as Elle’s, looking in to the dumpster from up side down then see the black hat begin lifting above the opened end of the dumpster. Janice looks over on to Elle, the both of them look on, smiling as the blood rushed in to their heads, leaving their completion in a bloody red. Elle smiles, giggling, kicking her legs against Janice’s as she seen his hand come up over the edge of the dumpster holding a shiny silver rod, a toy she thinks as does Janice before the catch the gun in the other as he stands him self up on the handles from in the edge, sets the silver rod on to the end of the gun and spins it on then smiles as he feel the rush start to intoxicate the women from in their tilting heads.
Two shots were all it took. It was all he intended to use before setting his blade in to place. The bodies lay out in the dumpster lifeless; at least he seems to think they are. The blond was his only target, Janice for him was dead wait. The bullet he sent in to her chest was all that was needed. Elle had what he had been looking for. She seemed to suit a description that matched from in the game he was set out play.
He walked slowly, stepping out of the alley way with ease and a patience. He steps in to its corner, looks out in to the street, side walk then stepped out carrying the black garbage bag with his right hand as his left held the gun from in his pocket. The bag drops down on to his foot, he leans over, pulling a quarter from out of his pocket then slides it into the paper stand. The head rolls as planed, he lifts bag up, lets the blood covered blond hair head roll in to a drop as he slid out the paper before its land. He stands in over the stand, looks around as the echoes from in the door being slammed shut flow out in to the night before stepping and leading a way of his own.