Miranda

woman in black dress sitting on white metal bench

Image by Pedro Miranda at Unsplash

Miranda’s profile on the escort site was constructed in every detail to get the attention of Big Hank McCloud the head of the local syndicate.  Weeks of research, and a knowledge of his “tastes” assured that the call would come. 

Miranda arrived at the hotel attired in a revealing black dress and some stilettos that were to die for.  When she was frisked by the bodyguard, she let out a little moan just to play up the persona.

Once alone in the room with the boss, the assassin struck. Did I mention that the stilettos were to die for?


Padre

The name of the photographer and the character are coincidental as the piece was written before the picture was found.

Flash Fiction Challenge: stilettos

The Runner (Part 1)

Keyboard, Typing, Computer, Computing
Pixabay

Bella De Bryn was a competent investigator. She was good at finding people, and finding people she. It was her job. Most of her cases involved tracing beneficiaries cited in wills, or tracking the whereabouts of absentee fathers with support payments in arrears, but sometimes she got a really interesting case. This didn’t look like it was going to be one of those cases.

Bella’s firm was contracted by the sister of a young woman who the police believed to have been a “runner,” as she had left her flat and and most of her possessions behind. “Most of her possessions” is an accurate description if by it you mean that her second hand furniture and mismatched dishes are key possessions. Several day’s change of clothing, toiletries, and her passport were however nowhere to be found. More importantly in the police’s analysis of the situation was the abusive on again off again boyfriend, and a couple of maxed out credit cards she also left behind.

When the file fell on Bela’s desk, she was far from impressed. This would be boring, a bit tedious, and worse of all not a big commission.

De Bryn was a Rhodesian by birth, who came to the UK via South Africa. She was five-foot-three inches tall, matronly, and wore her glasses librarian-style on a chain around her neck. She was not what you might imagine a “private eye” to look like. Here looks and friendly manner however opened doors for her though as she didn’t pose a threat in the minds of her quarries or their associates. Most importantly, however, Bella had bills, and this job wasn’t going to have a great return compared to the time it would take. Always the professional, however, Bella opened the file and began to read.

_____________________

Padre

Homesick

Photo by Oleg Zaicev on Pexels.com

It was always hard to be away from home, but the holidays were especially trying. This year Reeder decided that he would try to make the season a little brighter. While it took him much of his pay packet, he bought himself an antique bed with a wooden headboard to replace his standard issue metal frame bunk. He then went through every magazine, and postcard he could lay his hands on. In the end he had amassed an amazing collection of “Holiday Sprit.”

Okay, he didn’t know who most of the people in the photographs were, but it was nice to see snow, and happy people enjoying old fashioned Christmas. His only regret was that he had to use plastic pine garland and borrowed lights for the effect. Maybe, next year he could get real evergreens, though they were rather hard to come by here on Antari Seven.


Padre

Photo Challenge #340

Midnight Read

Reading, Woman, Book, Women, Window, Read
Pixabay

Once upon a midnight dreary,

I read some Poe till my eyes grew bleary

While I like the rhyme and its style archaic

But to call it horror was a mis-taik

Now Stephen King can shiver my spine

A reading him alone – is best in daytime

So to choose between Edgar Allan and the King of Horror

Well sorry Poe, “Nevermore!”


Padre

That Case (Part 1)

Noir, Evidence, Murder, Offense, Investigation, Police

Виктория Бородинова at Pixabay

Detective Kowalsky starred up from his backgammon board at the man who had just spoken to him.  It wasn’t every day that he received visitors, and never unexpectedly like this.

“Yes, I’m Curtis Kowalsky,” he replied. “Who wants to know?”

“I’m Detective Lieutenant Bridges, and I’d like to ask you about one of your old cases, Detective.”

“Why?  Someone trying to overturn a conviction or something?”

“No Sir, nothing like that.  It’s about one of your ‘unsolveds.’  We have one that’s come up that’s similar,” Bridges replied.

“Which one?” the old detective queried.

“The Delano Case,” the younger policeman responded.

Kowalsky turned pale for a moment, then looked around the day room.  Seeing a nurse he waved her over.

“Milly, be a dear and help me to my room, and don’t start to ramble on about rules, but this man is going to accompany us there.  This is police business.”

Mr. Curt, you know . . . ”

“Not a word of it Milly.  Please, just do what I ask.”

She relented and helped the aged detective into his walking frame, and then escorted him and Bridges to his room.

“A half hour, no more.  Do you understand?” she said.

“Yes -yes an hour!” Kowalsky replied.  “And shut the door behind you.”

Milly shook her head, started to say something, and then departed.

“That case,” Kowalsky said, when she had left. “That case ruined my life.”

“I’m sorry to have to bring it up then, Detective Kowalsky.” Bridges said apologetically.  “It is important to though, I’m afraid.”

“Just call me Curt, and let’s get on with it,” the old man said drawing in a deep breath.

 

Padre

 

FOWC with Fandango — Ramble

Intelligence Report

Ufo, Spaceship, Aircraft, Drive, Nozzles, Research

Pixabay

“Is the intelligence report ready, Lieutenant Zorg?”

“Yes Commander” the Vivivian replied.

“A brief synopsis, please,” the Commander instructed.

“Very good, Commander.  The third planet has limited useful resources owing to over exploitation, but may well be a viable contact opportunity.  Our analysis of the communications from the planet suggest that the two dominant species seem to be “Humanians” and “Covidians,” though we have only really been able to decipher the communications of the former.  It seems that there is presently a conflict, and the Humanians are in disarray at recent offensive moves by the Covidians.”

“Interesting” the Commander said. “Continue.”

“As I have said, this is all from the Humanian perceptive and they are divided in their responses.  The two biggest factions seem to be Maskers and Anti-Maskers.”

“Maskers?” the Commander queried.

“Ah yes – masks seem to be some sort of artificial barriers that are placed over the respiratory organs of these creatures.”

“Hmm,” the Commander said contemplatively.

“The whole thing seems to have led to unrest as well with many Humanians avoiding the hostilities by isolating themselves and maintaining a distance from others of their species of what we calculate to be 0.6 of a Xeih.   Others, however seem to be calling for the “taking of a knee,” some sort of bending of one of their self-propulsion organs.  This seems to be resisted by one of the three main species leaders, a um, yes that’s it, Trump.”

“So they have a divided command structure?”

“Yes Commander – the other world leaders seem to be a Fauci, and a Greta.  That is all we have at the moment though.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant. I think we will wait for their hostilities to end before we land and offer them universal health and happiness.  They don’t seem prepared for it yet.”

 

Padre

Once Upon A Time

Fee, Elf, Fairy, Fae, Kneeling, Expression, Beauty

Pixabay

There was a long time ago,

In days of old, as you may know –

Fairies, and all kind of folk fey –

That we seldom see around us today.

Among these was – Princess Jacaranda – Royal,

Whose mother Queen Pandorea – did tend to spoil.

She was so accustomed to getting her way

That in the Blackberry Patch Kingdom –

She refused to stay.

So she did wander so far from home

That she found herself lost and quite alone.

Thus isolated in an unfamiliar land

With no one to guide her or give her a hand  –

She succumbed to her fears

And she fell into tears –

Ultraviolet streaks down her face.

And if you go near –

Even today – you will hear –

Her sobs as you pass by the place.

 

Padre

 

Paint Chip Poetry Prompt #31:

Once Upon a Time –  “you must use all four of the paint chip words, which are royal, jacarandaultraviolet, and blackberry. You can either include the angel card word or just allude to the concept of obedience (or disobedience, if you prefer).

The Lounge

unnamed

‘Cigar Bar Evening Lounge’ by Brent Lynch

Lush melodies drew her to the door of the lounge, the friendly smiles enticed her inside.  Chardonnay hadn’t intended at stopping here, as was on the way to her usual haunts for a night of clubbing.  There was something about this place that captured her imagination though, and just one drink wouldn’t take too long.  But just in case, she typed Might be late onto her iPhone.  Hmm, no signal she observed. That’s weird. 

She glanced around the place, the ambiance was wild, almost like it belonged in a Mickey Spillane novel.  She was a little self-conscious as she made her way to the bar, as her clothes didn’t exactly fit into her surroundings.  But hey, a little black dress fits in anywhere, she reassured herself.

As she reached the bar, the barman cast a suspicious eye at her.

“Can I have a house white please?” she asked.  This merely resulted in the barman’s expression changing to puzzlement.

“Make it a Manhattan, Louie,” a sharply dressed gentleman seated at the bar said.  “And put it on my tab.”

“Um, okay,” Chardonnay said a little suspiciously.  “Thank you.”

“So what’s your name Doll-face,” the rugged stranger asked.

“Chardonnay, like the wine,” she responded.

The man stared quizzically for a moment, and then said, “That’s an unusual name.”

“My mom, loves the stuff,” she replied with a shrug and a feigned giggle.  “You know I have never been in a theme bar before,” she said.

The man gave another brief look of confusion and then said, “My name is Edgar, but everybody calls me Edge.  What brings a girl like you into a place like this, Chardene?”

“Chardonnay,” she corrected.  “I was on my way to The Galaxy,” she said, “but stopped here because of the music.”

The Galaxy?” he queried.  “That dive ain’t a place for a dame like you.”

“Um – thank you,” she said, again unsure of how to respond.

“You know the mob has their finger in that pie,” Edge said.  “Though it’s a good place to find information sometimes, as long as I’m discrete.”

“Information?” Chardonnay asked.

“Yeah, I’m a P. I..  Maybe you’ve heard of me – Edge O’Malley.”

“Oh, that Edge,” she said with feigned admiration, in an attempt to play along with the establishment’s theme.   This might be fun to do some night with Zoe and Cari, she thought. We could dress up and it would be a ball, playing make believe.

“Well Edge, thank you for the drink, but I need to get over to The Galaxy and meet some of the dames from the office,” she said.

This again drew an uncertain look from Edge, but he shook her hand and said, “You take care of yourself, Doll.”

Chardonnay then made her way across the lounge, and out into the streets of 1947 Los Angeles.

 

Padre

 

First Line Friday: Lush melodies drew her to the door of the lounge, the friendly smiles enticed her inside.

 

Homecoming

Mushroom, Toadstool, Fly Agaric, Spotted, Points, Red

Pixabay

Petunia June had spent far to long at court.  Yes, she had important functions, and had even been godmother to not just one, but three princesses; but she was tired.  She was what her own godmother called bone-weary.  But now she was going home.  “Home,” the word sounded odd to her.  Hadn’t the palace been her home twice as long as her little village in the glen had?  As she topped a small rise, she caught sight of if for the first time in decades.  There before her in all its splendor were the white towers, and red roofs of her memories and dreams.  At long last, the Fairy Godmother was indeed “home.”

Padre

The Dragon Hunter Part 4

Dragon, Zodiac, Chinese, Culture, East, China, Oriental

Pixabay

As Wilfred entered the flickering glow, he discovered that the passage was lined with an assortment of high quality, state of the art armour.  There was no coherent pattern as far as he could detect.  There seemed to be Nordlanic, Ralulee, and Kingdom styles, yet each bore the rearing dragon sigel of Hanon.  As he slowly passed these, there was an  occasional roar, as if a great burst of breath was being released.  These bursts echoed through the cavern.  Each of them was accompanied by a momentary increase in the brightness of the passage.  At the last of these, he noted a bunk wedged in among the racks of armour and weapons.  On the bunk rested the other sentry, a blindfold of sorts shielding his eyes from the periodic flashes of scarlet light, as he slumbered.

Wilfred wasted no time, but quickly repeated the procedure whereby he had captured the other guard.  The man thus incapacitated, Wilfred rounded a bend in the tunnel towards the sound of the incessant metallic pounding.

What he discovered was a group of Dwarves working a huge set of bellows and working anvils on which they were affixing dragon crests to armour, or replicating weapons in the styles of those Wilfred had seen in racks.

“Who are you, Boy?” one burly Dwarf snapped, “and where are the guards?”

“Guards?” Wilfred repeated.  It was only then that he noticed that the Dwarves were shackled.  “I – I um – tied them up.”

“Well then what are you wait’n for?” the lead Dwarf challenged.  “Come and unlock us.”

“But, I don’t have a key,” Wilfred replied.  “Why don’t you just use your tools to break out?”

“Why don’t you just use your tools?” the Dwarf mocked.  “Why didn’t we think a-that? Becuz the chains is bleed’n magic ain’t they?” the Dwarf spat.  “Why don’t you go and fetch the bloody key?” the Dwarf said coldly.

Wilfred hurried back to the bunk, and there on a hook was a key with mysterious runes on it.  He went back to the Dwarves, and held it up.

“Yes -yes.  That’s it,” the lead Dwarf said, “So get on with it.”

“First, tell me where the dragon is,” Wilfred insisted.

“There ain’t no bleed’n dragon, you dunce,” the Dwarf responded.  “It’s all a ruze. A ploy.  Them Hannies made up the bloom’n dragon caper so they could steal the armour and weapons to equip their army.  This place ain’t got no iron to speak of, and no good smitties that’s for certain. So they lure heroes ‘ere and ambush ’em.  That’s how they got me and the lads as well.  But they kept us alive to do their dirty work.  The rest they strip, then toss in the furnace – just long enough to char them – mind.  Then they take the bodies back to the border to build up their dragon yarn.  Now, about the bloom’n key.”

“I will let you go, but I need you to do something for me first,” Wilfred said.

“And what might that be?” the lead Dwarf asked with a huff.

“I want you to make me a dragon’s head.”

 

Padre