Gray Skies

Gray Skies

Status: In Progress

Genre: Mystery and Crime

Details

Status: In Progress

Genre: Mystery and Crime

Summary

A middle-aged detective who wants to forget the past, a feisty redhead, and a series of murders by someone the police call "Picasso". Its the 90's in Boston and one serial killer is running the city and breaking it apart.
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Summary

A middle-aged detective who wants to forget the past, a feisty redhead, and a series of murders by someone the police call "Picasso". Its the 90's in Boston and one serial killer is running the city and breaking it apart.

Prolog (v.2) - Gray

Chapter Content - ver.2

Submitted: March 30, 2017

Reads: 97

A A A | A A A

Chapter Content - ver.2

Submitted: March 30, 2017

A A A

A A A

“So how bout it huh? You need a drink, of course you do. You deserve a drink, you’ve been through a lot lately.” A woman with long blonde hair, was standing in the middle of an empty stretch of road. He saw her there. He saw her gasping for air. A bright light was approaching from behind her at the horizon and it was getting closer. It was a fast approaching car that was not stopping. It wasn’t going straight either, it was swerving left and right. The woman may have heard the car way sooner, but she didn’t care. She stood there still gasping for air. The heat coming from her mouth was very visible to him and so was the impact of the car hitting her. In almost an instant, the car swerved through her and kept going. Her body stood up in the air for what appears to be an eternity until it hit the pavement with a large thud that sounded like a ton of fresh fishes hitting the floor. He saw the whole thing. He walked over to her, to it, the doll-like entanglement of a woman that was just alive. She was faced up, her long blonde hair was swirling with glass behind her head. Trailing down the side of her face was a fresh line of flowing blood, dirt and glass. He stood above her, blocking her view towards the sky, and he peered into her dark brown eyes noticing that the heavy breathing had stopped. “You need a drink Grayson?” The woman had spoken as clearly as a healthy person. “A drink is all you need. You can make it go away, just…get up Grayson. Wake yourself up! You know you want to. Gray! Gray! Gr-oooofff! Rwooof woof!” Riley barked and barked until he noticed Grayson twitch a little. He stopped and sat down, letting his tongue out to start panting. Grayson slowly opened his eyes, “Goddammit, you want food don’t you? Alright boy, in a sec.” Grayson, still wearing his worn out business attire that was supposed to be a light crème color, but it appeared darker due to fatigue, was relishing his last few seconds of warmth from his bed. It was early and dark, in the middle of October. Dead silent was Grayson’s house. He didn’t own a clock so that eerie ticking was absent. Grayson pushed himself up and grunted a little, looking around to make sure it wasn’t morning (his window shades are transparent enough to let in a little light) and slowly walked over to the kitchen. He poured into a bowl the healthiest dog food in the world (or so they say) and added a small amount of water so that Riley can get it down better. The empty bottle of regret was still lying on its side atop the counter with a single swill of it left and it was almost begging him to come closer. Grayson, remembering it, was clenching his fist and shook his head, “I don’t want any, not now” he mumbled to himself. Riley paused for a moment to look at Grayson and then started wolfing down his food again with of an appetite suitable to that of a German Shepard. Grayson plopped himself back onto his bed and tried to go back to sleep.

Trying to sleep was just that, trying. You don’t need to try to sleep when your body is tired enough, you just collapse onto the bed and nature does the rest. Grayson was trying to do this on his own but his frequent nightmares were insistent on prying his eyes open in the dead of night. Riley finished his meal and started licking his paws which was a sign of his bedtime. Only one of them got any sleep.


© Copyright 2017 Call Me Manolo. All rights reserved.

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