Creative Writing To the street below.

***Up, also, of course, on my dA account, with a cool image to represent the story: http://www.deviantart.com/view/27139257/***

Jack’s hand ached to be holding a cigarette. There were no ashtrays here. He tried to keep his attention on the bookcase beside him in place of the craving. The waiting game was bittersweet.

He let his eyes skim over the bookshelf. Titles on the shelf drew his attention from time to time. He was irked to find that the books were colour-coded in place of being arranged by subject. The hand that itched still rose to the shelf and he gently ran his fingers across their spines.

“Romeo and Juliet,” he read. “On it’s own, it’s the staple of those who know nothing about Shakespeare.”

He couldn’t help but notice that Hamlet was nowhere to be found. Nor was any other Shakespeare play.

His eyes found the Felix the Cat clock; it was about 3:30 PM. Pacing a little, his feet scuffed against the cheap green carpet with an uncomfortable noise. His hands passed over the tower of compact disks next to the bookcase. Aretha Sings The Blues stared up at him. He flipped it upside down to read the track titles. Okay, so actually he didn't like looking at Aretha Franklin.

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The cartilage in his nose collapsed with a crunch. Blood gushed warmly over Jack’s hands. He held the man’s chin, forcing him to look upwards.

The man’s words were muffled by his blood, but Jack could still make them out.

“You bastard, my nose, you broke it, you bastard…”

Henry Fox pulled himself from Jack’s grasp and stumbled back. His hands cupped his nose in a protective manner.

Jack smiled harshly a violent grimace that let his victim know exactly how much he was enjoying the violence. He kicked Fox in the gut and swept his legs. The man fell to the ground heavily, his own hands knocking his nose even further out of place.

And there was more blood.

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Jack threw open the broken window and gazed out.

The pavement sparkled in the late afternoon light. The wind ruffled Jack’s hair in a friendly manner. Why the wind should be friendly to a murderer was a mystery to Jack. Below, a crowd was gathering. The only blood was from Henry’s broken nose, and from his mouth. Jack imagined that the blood had flooded his nostrils and mouth when he had hit the pavement and broken his neck.

Internal bleeding was a *****.

He sprayed all of the blood in the apartment with ammonium, no longer sure which was his and which was Henry Fox’s.

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Henry Fox punched Jack in the teeth. Jack spit the blood out and it hit the wall. He was angry. The taste of blood in his mouth drove him wild. He smashed Henry’s head into the wall and dragged him towards the window. Henry had lost control of his bodily functions and couldn’t struggle.

Jack pulled Fox up and pushed him against the window. Then, he pushed him through the window.

Henry had been flung from the very building that he had designed. It was his first creation as an architect at age twenty-six. He remembered the day he moved in.

Glass shattered and Fox gave a yell as he was flung out of his apartment and sunk like a stone towards the street below. He shielded his face with his hands, his face grotesque with fear.

Impact.

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Whistling, Jack walked towards the newsstand. His hand held the cigarette that it so dearly craved. Maybe he’d pick up the latest issue of Home and Garden He examined a few of the tabloids briefly.

The usual alien stories screamed at him with their doctored photos and surrealist titles. One article caught his eye while he skimmed. It was an American paper.

RITUAL DEFENESTRATION
Happening in a neighborhood near you?​

He scoffed.

Jack purchased his copies of National Geographic and Home and Garden, and walked away.

 

It took a moment to get that they were flashbacks. It is very well written. Grammar and spelling are fine. It is very good. Makes me want to investigate via CSI style.

 

Thanks very much, Bash. The only one that's really a flashback is the one that's in italics. The rest pretty much follow the right order, except the one previous to it (hence the flashback). I appreciate the comment.