Vincent King Private Detective, Part ThreeMy picks were old but usually did the trick. Not this time. After several tries it broke. The pick, that is, not the lock. I pressed my ear to the door and listened. No sounds. I needed a better plan before another goon came by. I went back upstairs and headed for the main room.Vincent King Private Detective, Part Three by jaynesbrothersue
Miss Monroe was still on stage. Her voice had everyone’s eyes on her. And she was right, many men where there with other women. I started to find a seat when an usher came to help me. He was a kid. I gave him my VIP pass and he led me to a table. He looked like he was fresh out of school. Probably was. Another hard luck case that needed a job. Hell, probably been living on his own longer than me.
Between the smoke and the sound of the band the room was full. Miss Monroe’s voice cut through both with ease. She had real talent. With the right amount of luck she would be out of this joint and on to bigger things in no time.
“Good evening, sir. Can I get you a drink?” this cute waitress aske
My 100 word ghost storyAsleep, lying on my side, dreaming of my husband; I feel his weight press down on the bed. I’m in that moment between sleep and consciousness, where dreams can turn into nightmares. I start to roll over, to embrace my lover, but then I remember. My nightmare begins when I recall the conversation this morning. My husband is out of town. The thought scares me enough that I am forced awake. I flick on the lamp and am happy to see the bed holds only me. It was a nightmare. I lie back down and hear the front door shut.My 100 word ghost story by jaynesbrothersue
As told by the RavenI flew up on the shore, carried a message from Lenore.As told by the Raven by jaynesbrothersue
Quickly, I went to knock, only me, not my flock,
Went to knock upon his chamber door.
Twice did I try and twice was I denied
But still did I implore to enter his chamber door.
For his fate rested with the message from Lenore.
The flight was very taxing, and thus I needed relaxing,
So I perched myself above the chamber door.
This was all I could do, this and nothing more.
When I could speak, the word came from my beak,
The one word message from Lenore, only one word, nothing more.
I saw the fear touch his core as I spoke the word; Nevermore.
Confusion on his face, I hoped this not be the case,
For he had only that one word to explore.
Perhaps he needed more, but I had only; Nevermore.
Let your heart be freed from her ungrateful deed,
The lovely Lenore took her life by the shore.
Stop your drinking, and your sinking, love her; Nevermore.
He curses with abandon, at me, without question.
But I will sit on the bust above his cham
Soul For RentPounding the keys, she grits her teeth: a bitter artist on display. Minor notes float in the silence, adding another link in the bonds that keep her coupled to the piano. Thrown together like hateful lovers, musician and instrument are pitted against each other to earn tonight's wages. Fingers slipping on cracked ivories, she stifles a curse and continues to play the wretched piece; the people clap and put money in the jar, but the echoes the coins make only seem to be a repeat of the hollow melody that composes her soul. Selling passion for monetary praise has turned her once feathery fingers to unfeeling iron digits, robotic and automatic in their playing. There is no joy in the sonata, yet the people still come, unaffected by the splendor they have silenced.