Darker Shades of Fear

The rusty metal springs creaked under the new weight they now supported. The soothing notes of a slow jazz melody glided smoothly through the open window, underneath which stood a homeless saxophone player hard at work. Smoke weaved through the cold air as the sole occupant of the dilapidated room took a long drag on his cigarette.

Police sirens wailed in the distance. Voices created an overlapping chorus of conversation. Clouds veiled the sun and created a never-ending abyss of gray. A draft of cold blew through the room, but the man on the bed clad in old jeans and ribbed tank did not feel it.

Down to the filter, he took one last drag and flicked it carelessly to the floor. Wordlessly, almost methodically he stood and grabbed his faded brown coat. One arm and then the other before stepping into shoes that appeared the same age as his worn coat. From his pocket he revealed a pack of Marlboro Reds and lit another. He threw the ignited match into the corner of the room where the filter of his previous cigarette had landed amongst empty bottles of cheap liquor. He watched the flame spread until the entire corner was ablaze. A small, satisfied smile crossed his lips as he rested his cigarette between them. Contented, he turned and walked out the motel unphased, leaving the door to room 126 wide open.

He maneuvered invisibly through the crowded streets, every now and then taking a puff on his cigarette or lighting another one up. He paused before a run-down pool hall and opened the door, stepping inside. He was no stranger to this place. The room smelled of smoke and cheap whiskey. The air was tinted gray from the incredible amount of smoke, rendering the ceiling nearly invisible. He continued to walk until he came to the barstool he had come to claim. The bartender eyed him knowingly and set a glass of gin on the bar. The right side of the enigmatic man’s lips curled into a smile as he offered payment and a nice sized tip. He earned a nod and a smile from the bartender, who then disappeared. He drank the clear liquid in one gulp and enjoyed the spinning sensation it created as it slid down his throat. His empty glass was filled again and he repeated the process. Satisfied, he turned toward the cheap television.

…will be decided. In other news, the Overnight Motel caught fire a few hours ago. The fire appears to have started in room 126, in which the corpse of who appears to be businessman and father, Michael Harding was found. The room had been charged to Harding’s credit card and several witnesses say that they saw the cooperate giant inside the motel. Detectives and Firefighters say that arson is the most likely cause of the fire. Alleged suspect Mickey Allen is in police custody. Police allegedly found Harding’s credit card in her possession. Allen faces charges of prostitution, murder and arson. Several witnesses say…

He relaxed on his barstool and smiled, taking a well earned drag on his cigarette. He got to his feet and leaned carelessly against a wall. His eyes scanned the room and rested on a tall, blond woman standing alone by one of the pool tables. He smiled to himself and stalked over, placing a wager on himself for the next round. She looked pleasantly surprised at the man who had come from out of nowhere.

He collected his winnings after the third game, bored by the competition. He started out when the blond woman stopped him.

“You play a nice game.” She said, “Name’s Summer.”

“Kenny.” He replied.

She laughed politely. “How old are you, Kenny?”

He took a drag on his cigarette, “Whatever age you want me to be.”

She smiled, “Where are you headed?”

“Nowhere.”

“Are you in a rush to get there?” She asked seductively.

“I can put it off a while.” He said, bored with conversation. He kissed her slowly and just enough to further entice her. He pulled away, inwardly smiling in victory.

“There’s a place down the street… we can go there.” She said.

He simply finished his cigarette and followed her outside.

The dark streets lead them to a motel, this one a considerable improvement from the last. He observed the room and tossed his jacket aside. She saw this and removed her jewelry. He could probably count the karats, but there would be plenty of time for that later. Instead, he kissed her.

Things continued to progress typically from there.

He stared up at the ceiling, which was surprisingly not cracked or falling apart. He exhaled a puff of smoke and watched as it danced through the air upward, until it dissolved completely. He sat up and rested his feet on the floor before he stood and put his pants on. From the nightstand, he picked two or three pieces of jewelry, ones that she probably wouldn’t remember having worn. It had been a pretty good fuck, so there was a small chance that she would even care. Women like that would trade their Christmas or anniversary gifts for one good time.

He pulled his shirt over his head and slid his arms into his coat. He didn’t bother to glance back at the bed as he left. He shut the door behind him and left the motel. The streets were cold, but the chill passed through him. He stopped in front of a newspaper machine and inserted the correct change. He could not help but smile to himself.

Business Man Michael Harding’s Tryst with Hooker Goes up in Flames

He’d made the front page again.