This is a very short story I wrote years and years ago for an assignment in University. I think it was supposed to be a study on crafting a story through dialogue. It’s nothing special and relatively cliché, but I enjoyed toying with the crime/quasi-hardboiled genre.
Smoke encircled his head, a drunken thought balloon from a comic book, as he dabbed away the last surviving ash of his cigarette. Reemus was worn out and lethargic, but obviously that didn’t account for his superiors. Sitting in the precinct office, it had just skimmed past nine o’clock in the evening and he was staring at the phone. He was hoping for a ring to interrupt his Lieutenant who stood over his desk, howling in raspy anger.
“You’d better get your act together quick, detective. Any more of this shit and it’ll make the papers. Headlines make me look bad and when I look bad, the city does too. And when that happens, I’ll be out of a job…then who knows what the commissioner will do to your sorry ass!”
Reemus smirked sharply. “Uh huh,” he acknowledged, leaning back in his chair to take one long drag from a newly lit cigarette.
“Uh huh is right. Now get down to the west end, there’s another mess to check out.” The lieutenant walked away in a flurry. Continue reading