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Blink's Journal

I found a broke and down-on-his-luck dog howling at the moonlight. I asked him "what's wrong little doggy?"
He turned to me with those droopy eyes and said "Its a dog eat dog world out there".
Figures. You turn down any alley in Twilight City, and you're bound to find something.
It may not be what you're looking for, but it's always something.

The darkness filled the air and the wind was icy cold. Street lamps and moonlight lit the streets as I looked down perched atop a building.
An eerie quiet clung to the concrete walls as the wind picked up and moaned around.
The sound of glass breaking, and the crunching footstep that followed snapped me back from my daze.
Same story, different day. Another robbery, another silent alarm, I took it upon myself to stop the thieves from escaping.
The night was kind to me. The two burglars turned towards an alley beside my roost. A dead end.
I dropped down behind them, standing between their freedom and the perpetually revolving door of the law.

"Ey Cape! Outta da way before sumthin' bad happens to ya!" The thug hollered, an Italian accent slurred his speech.
I've never been much of a talker, and I've always believed actions spoke louder than words.
Thankfully I knew someone that fancied himself as an eloquent speaker and was willing to step in for me.
Bip-bap! Blam! My friend defused the situation with an elegance that only 9 millimetre bullets had.
The thug slumped to the floor, his sin pouring out in a beautiful red.
His friend hoisted his body up above his shoulders and cowered behind it. He pleaded for his life. Hypocrite.
I wondered how many people he had to put down for his ill-gotten goods.

The sound of squad cars filled the grimy alleyway with the typical red and blue decor behind me. My job was done here.
Like a cat on it's tippy-toes, I gracefully left the scene by shoving an officer aside as I leapt up, grabbing an escape ladder.
Disappearing into the rooftops above. Officer Rand had enough on his plate. Crooked cops, Politics, blackmail.
At least he was the on-my-side kind of crooked cop. Least I could do is keep it from the Force.

As I jumped from rooftop to rooftop like a mad cat after it's first meal in days, my eye caught the figure of something familiar.
Someone familiar. Could it be? I wondered.. After all this time... Maybe my eyes were playing tricks on me.
Why now? What are the odds? At that place, at that time.
No, that smile was unmistakable. That face, unforgettable.
Those eyes, still pierced me like a dagger through the heart.
The thought stopped me in my tracks. Could it be her?
I looked back, but when I returned, what I thought I saw, what I hoped I saw, was gone from my life again.
There is no peace for me in this world.

Blink's Journal.

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I've won the 100k DD bet so many times, I should have the title "Mr. Luck"

Anyone else read it?

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bump. What do any of the readers think?

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I like it, there's a couple of bits that don't read so well to me, but I like the film-noir monologue vibe.

A couple of points:

Did you mean Italian accent?

The bit about your pistol being an eloquent speaker is a cool idea, but it doesn't quite work properly. Bit of a re-write for clarity?

"... moonlight lit ..." doesn't scan for me.

It skips from past to present tense, which is confusing. "My job here was done..." "Maybe my eyes are playing tricks on me..."

Just being picky because I enjoyed it. I particularly like the final paragraphs hinting at a dark and tortured past. Very Sin City.

Thanks for the feedback. I touched it up a bit.

Im not sure how to change the bit about "moonlight lit". At that part of the story, the moon and the street lamps were a source of light.
Also Im not sure what you mean about the pistol. How do you think I can make it better?

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I've come round to "moonlight lit" although you could always rephrase it as something like "silver-white moonlight mingled with the sulphur-yellow streetlights, bleaching the streets below and leaving pools of inky shadow". Or just rephrase it so "moonlight" and "lit" don't appear next to each other in the sentence.

Or don't, it's your story after all.



"I've never been much of a talker, I always believed actions spoke louder than words.
Thankfully I had a friend who was not so tongue-tied and happily spoke for me. Loudly and eloquently, he made my point for me.
'Bip-bap! Blam.' His 9mm voice cracked and rang, echoing in the alley below."

At very least, I'd change ... knew someone that fancied himself... to ... knew someone who fancied himself....

I dunno really, these are just suggestions. Like I say it's your story. Looking forward to the next journal entry.