Thursday, January 12, 2017

Nighttime Fiction

The lights, the smoke, the grime … the city itself seemed alive that day. I had little to go on this time... but my insider did manage to find something interesting. The clattering typewriter of a popular pulp writer. Oh, and also Jack Smith got done in. The murder took place just a few hours ago. Nothing to go on but a photo found at the crime scene.  No suspects as of yet. “Guess I shoulda retired when I had the chance,” I sighed.

 Via the Film Noir Monologue Generator, with some finishing touches.

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