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Weekly Contest #307
“And you are?”He traded his kevlar vest for a Brooks Brothers suit. No living in shadows. No jungle to blend in.Just glass. Linoleum. Fluorescent lights blinking like gunfire.Footsteps echoed soft and sharp like teeth clacking in the dark.“Allen Robidoux,” he said.Inside Brooks Brothers jacket. Left pocket swung heavy. One kiss if things get hardcore.Everything else was foreign.No mag: Just cellphone.No knife: Just cuff links.No camo face paint: Just Ray-Ban.“I’m here to see director David Reeves.”Cade takes off glasses.“Oh my god,” she said...
Weekly Contest #305
At the intersection, I could go right and head home — but turning left would take me to salvation. Engine roared. Heart roared louder. Not a spat: vengence. Not a conversation: Freedom. Cade sped past red lights in his Mustang. Lights flickered like morse code to go back. Cade ignored their message. He was the message. Eyes darting between streets. Mind focus. Heart ready to give out. Not now. For too long, mobsters demanded cash for peace, but this was it. This ends now. Rain fell straight like nature begging to turn. But he couldn’t: he wo...
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