Black Trick: Part 1

Well folks, I decided I wanted to write more fiction. Here’s some kinda bad fiction for ya đŸ˜€ The character is based off of my personality when I was in second year alone in my room, the kind of mindset where I was very much determined to be okay on my own. Unfortunately, he turned out moody in this instalment, here’s hoping he takes lessons in baddassery sometime soon.

Here I stood at the precipice, on a rocky shore where the water looked to swallow me whole, and the world itself seemed twisted and dark.

The grey, sullen sky brooded over the city. The clouds moved only to be replaced by darker ones that threatened to bring more than just rain. The low rumble of thunder was barely heard over the high shrill of the wind blasting through the nearby trees, which were barely able to keep themselves from falling over. The rocks I stood on were slippery and slick with water from the dark, hungry waves below that smashed and slammed against the shore, a deafening roar emanating from the surf.

That’s where I stood, my coat held in tight and my collar pulled up close. My shoes, scuffed and unpolished now glistened with a steady application of mist. My trenchcoat flapped and flowed in the breeze like a tired marionette bound to a lonely string. My hat only stood proudly on my head thanks to my hands keeping it in place at the cost of being completely frozen from cold rain and harsh spray.

I shook off the cold for a moment, and reached into my pocket, pulling out a picture of a woman I once knew.

Her name was Sophia Spade, and she was beautiful and cold. Long, flowing black hair fell down her slender shoulders, a stark contrast to her pale, porcelain coloured skin. Her blood red lips were broken into a wide smile that gleaned with clarity that was only matched by her icy blue eyes.

It’s hard to imagine her face was now covered by the veil of death. Her lovely features rendered lifeless, her vitality st beat out of her by someone I now had to hunt, though I knew one wrong move would end me. I thought about how easy it would be to just jump into the water bellow me and give up, run away, disappear. How simple it would be to concede that I couldn’t win; but I had to try.

And I had to ask myself: how did this all come to pass?

It all started a couple of months ago, back when I was still a badge.

It started with a murder.

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