CharlieParker82
January 25th, 2013, 02:38 PM
The beginning to a short story I was playing around with. Interested in some feed back to what people think. Thanks in advance.
Blind Bob Grunt had been riding two days out of Alamogordo. The heat was up. Flies crawled the skin and gave his nag hell. Blind Bob rolled a smoke and cast eyes out over the baron land. There was a dust storm rolling in from the East, would be on him in an hour.
The girl laid naked, face down in the dirt. He saw the gun shot wound he gave her as a parting gift. Slowly he dismounted and found the rope in his bag, bound the dead girls hands and feet, wrapped her up in linen and attached her to the back Marigold.
It was just over a days travel east to the town of Las Cruces. He looked up and guessed he had about 5 hours of sun light left, just enough to make a sizable dent in his journey.
This suited him; just him, a horse and a dead girl. Nobody to make chit chat with. Just a beaten road to follow, the sun on his back and a pay check out front.
He had never liked people and they didn't care too much for him either. Of course there was a time when things were different, but that was a long time ago and Blind Bob Grunt had no time for sentiment.
/
He set up camp just outside Chaparral, ate his beans cold and wore a cigarette in his mouth. Sometime around midnight the rags of linen started moving. Blind Bob eyed it up and put a gun shot in it, quieted it down for a bit. Should be good for another few hours or so he thought, just enough time for him to get some sleep.
He was serious man, short and sharp. Had a pair of eyes that were little more than piss holes in the dirt. His lips were tight and shoulders tense. You didn't mess with men like him, not unless you expected a fight.
Las Cruces was a broken town, a bad weekend full of cheap liquor and cheaper women. The smell of fresh blood got the girl all excited as they entered town. Blind Bob gave her a kick, told the girl to behavior.
He had booked himself a room at the Satellite Inn, gave the young man on reception a look, told him to pretend he didn't see what he thought he had. Blind Bob dumped the body in the shower, drank whiskey and wine in silence, made his call through to the Stiff Suits, told him he had his pay day.
He didn't sleep that night, never slept right in the city, bad dreams kept him awake, one dead wife too many. Instead he just drank and watched T.V, the sound of his guest his only companion, all snorts and snarls.
//
The Stiff Suit entered the room, was led in by Bailey, Bob's contact. He was shown the girl who Blind Bob had fixed up into a chair. He had thrown a sheet over her, gagged her with a old sock.
Stiff Suit: This the girl?
Blind Bob: I hope so, otherwise I picked up some other dead vampire chick in the middle of the desert.
The stiff suit didn't appreciate his tone. Blind Bob didn't give two hoots for what he did and didn't appreciate. All the suits from the Commission were the same to him, spoke with fancy accents and had no real idea what was going on out in the field.
Bailey: Don't mind Bob, Bob's just not a people person are you Bob?
The stiff suit leaned in, not too close, just close enough to smell the death on the girls breath.
Stiff Suit: Show her the picture Bailey, see if she's willing to play ball with us.
Bailey did as told, took the photo from the suitcase and showed the girl. Asked if she recognized him. She grunted wildly in response.
Bailey: Can you tell us where we can find him?
Again she went all crazy on them. The stiff suit smiled, was hoping she was going to be difficult, had a party trick he liked to show off, show these southern gents that New Yorkers could play it just as dirty as them.
Bob: What's he doing?
Bob spoke in Baileys ear as the stiff suit went to his bag and rummaged around inside.
Bailey: Just watch
The suit took a pair of pliers, set about working on the girl. Bob had to look away after a while. It wasn't so much what he was doing to her, but it was the pleasure he took in doing it. Turned the stomach, all that swagger and violence.
///
The girl was back in the shower, was mumbling to herself something about revenge. The three gentleman sat on the sofas, had cracked open a bottle of port, a packet of Camels fair game.
Stiff Suit: Do you know this man?
The suit asked Bob. Bob looked the picture over. He recognized the face, knew the name. The Thin White Duke, a vampire hunter from London, had got himself a registered 36 kills before disappearing somewhere in the Soviet block in 72. He was expected dead, made Bob number one on the stats sheet.
Bob nodded allowed the suit to continue.
Stiff Suit: We got reports he was seen in the States some time last month and if the young girl is telling the truth, he is now in Yugoslavia, doing god knows what.
Bob: I thought he was dead.
Stiff Suit: Well not exactly, but we think he crossed over, became one of them. We received some intel from our friends in Berlin, they picked up some high roller, he told them that The White Duke was making a play for power within the Kindred.
Bob took it in, pulled himself a smoke and lit up.
Stiff Suit: If this is true then the Commission is vulnerable. The White Duke was privy to certain information that if in the wrong hands could put the Commission at a disadvantage.
Bob: What's that got to do with me.
Stiff Suit: We want you to find him Bob, and eliminate him.
Blind Bob Grunt had been riding two days out of Alamogordo. The heat was up. Flies crawled the skin and gave his nag hell. Blind Bob rolled a smoke and cast eyes out over the baron land. There was a dust storm rolling in from the East, would be on him in an hour.
The girl laid naked, face down in the dirt. He saw the gun shot wound he gave her as a parting gift. Slowly he dismounted and found the rope in his bag, bound the dead girls hands and feet, wrapped her up in linen and attached her to the back Marigold.
It was just over a days travel east to the town of Las Cruces. He looked up and guessed he had about 5 hours of sun light left, just enough to make a sizable dent in his journey.
This suited him; just him, a horse and a dead girl. Nobody to make chit chat with. Just a beaten road to follow, the sun on his back and a pay check out front.
He had never liked people and they didn't care too much for him either. Of course there was a time when things were different, but that was a long time ago and Blind Bob Grunt had no time for sentiment.
/
He set up camp just outside Chaparral, ate his beans cold and wore a cigarette in his mouth. Sometime around midnight the rags of linen started moving. Blind Bob eyed it up and put a gun shot in it, quieted it down for a bit. Should be good for another few hours or so he thought, just enough time for him to get some sleep.
He was serious man, short and sharp. Had a pair of eyes that were little more than piss holes in the dirt. His lips were tight and shoulders tense. You didn't mess with men like him, not unless you expected a fight.
Las Cruces was a broken town, a bad weekend full of cheap liquor and cheaper women. The smell of fresh blood got the girl all excited as they entered town. Blind Bob gave her a kick, told the girl to behavior.
He had booked himself a room at the Satellite Inn, gave the young man on reception a look, told him to pretend he didn't see what he thought he had. Blind Bob dumped the body in the shower, drank whiskey and wine in silence, made his call through to the Stiff Suits, told him he had his pay day.
He didn't sleep that night, never slept right in the city, bad dreams kept him awake, one dead wife too many. Instead he just drank and watched T.V, the sound of his guest his only companion, all snorts and snarls.
//
The Stiff Suit entered the room, was led in by Bailey, Bob's contact. He was shown the girl who Blind Bob had fixed up into a chair. He had thrown a sheet over her, gagged her with a old sock.
Stiff Suit: This the girl?
Blind Bob: I hope so, otherwise I picked up some other dead vampire chick in the middle of the desert.
The stiff suit didn't appreciate his tone. Blind Bob didn't give two hoots for what he did and didn't appreciate. All the suits from the Commission were the same to him, spoke with fancy accents and had no real idea what was going on out in the field.
Bailey: Don't mind Bob, Bob's just not a people person are you Bob?
The stiff suit leaned in, not too close, just close enough to smell the death on the girls breath.
Stiff Suit: Show her the picture Bailey, see if she's willing to play ball with us.
Bailey did as told, took the photo from the suitcase and showed the girl. Asked if she recognized him. She grunted wildly in response.
Bailey: Can you tell us where we can find him?
Again she went all crazy on them. The stiff suit smiled, was hoping she was going to be difficult, had a party trick he liked to show off, show these southern gents that New Yorkers could play it just as dirty as them.
Bob: What's he doing?
Bob spoke in Baileys ear as the stiff suit went to his bag and rummaged around inside.
Bailey: Just watch
The suit took a pair of pliers, set about working on the girl. Bob had to look away after a while. It wasn't so much what he was doing to her, but it was the pleasure he took in doing it. Turned the stomach, all that swagger and violence.
///
The girl was back in the shower, was mumbling to herself something about revenge. The three gentleman sat on the sofas, had cracked open a bottle of port, a packet of Camels fair game.
Stiff Suit: Do you know this man?
The suit asked Bob. Bob looked the picture over. He recognized the face, knew the name. The Thin White Duke, a vampire hunter from London, had got himself a registered 36 kills before disappearing somewhere in the Soviet block in 72. He was expected dead, made Bob number one on the stats sheet.
Bob nodded allowed the suit to continue.
Stiff Suit: We got reports he was seen in the States some time last month and if the young girl is telling the truth, he is now in Yugoslavia, doing god knows what.
Bob: I thought he was dead.
Stiff Suit: Well not exactly, but we think he crossed over, became one of them. We received some intel from our friends in Berlin, they picked up some high roller, he told them that The White Duke was making a play for power within the Kindred.
Bob took it in, pulled himself a smoke and lit up.
Stiff Suit: If this is true then the Commission is vulnerable. The White Duke was privy to certain information that if in the wrong hands could put the Commission at a disadvantage.
Bob: What's that got to do with me.
Stiff Suit: We want you to find him Bob, and eliminate him.