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/lit/ - Literature

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15271074 No.15271074 [Reply] [Original]

>It was a cold, dark night

>> No.15271132

>>15271074

>It was a cold, dark night and I hadn't even had time to grab a coat.

>> No.15271257

>>15271074
this made me laugh, thanks

>> No.15271278
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15271278

>It was cold, dark coom

>> No.15271284

>>15271074
i don't get it

>> No.15271287

>>15271074
>The dame just entered my office and just as the smoke from my cigar vanished I could see her clearly for the first time. She was wearing a sweet smile upon her lips, but those eyes, those big eyes were as cold and dark as the night.

>> No.15271468

>>15271287
>"Strictly speaking, I'm closed right now," I said, but she could tell I didn't mean it. I doubt anyone had meant it to her since she was fifteen.

>> No.15271478

>>15271287
>>15271468

this is good writing whats it from?

>> No.15271490

>>15271278
You should see a doctor if its cold and discoloured

>> No.15271525

>>15271468
>I looked again into those eyes and realized there was no way she would leave. She wasn't going to leave until she delivered me the thing she brought with her. That thing was trouble.

>> No.15271542

>Then, the onions. The sweet, warm fragrance of boiled onions. I checked my trousers, but I hadn't eaten anything in days; it had to be her.

>> No.15271574

>>15271074
>The nightbirds chirped, while the crickets cricked and the frogs froggled.

>> No.15271621
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15271621

>>15271525
>"Where do I know you from, detective?" she finally said, her cold, dark eyes signaling coyly to me of some suggestive yet inscrutable motive.
>"I don't know, miss," I said. "I tend to keep a low profile."

>> No.15271693 [DELETED] 

>>15271621
>But that question ran through my head. Where do I know her from? I forgot so much of my past that recognizing her from some old memory would have been impossible for me. Yet, I think she knew the answer to this question. She seemed the kind of woman to never forget a face.
She smiled, her cheeks undulating like the waves you could see from the shore in the cold and dark nights, like this one was. Finally, her soft voice guided the answer to my ears.
>"Maybe from another life time" she said while still smiling.

>> No.15271698

>>15271478
Its not

>> No.15271701

>>15271621
>But that question ran through my head. Where do I know her from? I forgot so much of my past that recognizing her from some old memory would have been impossible for me. Yet, I think she knew the answer to this question. She seemed the kind of woman to never forget a face.
>She smiled, her cheeks undulating like the waves you could see from the shore in the cold and dark nights, like this one was. Finally, her soft voice guided the answer to my ears.
>"Maybe from another life time" she said while still smiling.

>> No.15271744

>>15271701

"Maybe from another life" she said, smiling.

"Well, whatever I'm doing in that life, I hope it's working out better than this one," I said.

"Aww," she said, mouth pursed in a parody of sympathy.

I didn't mind the sarcasm. Anything that got her to purse those lips was just fine by me.

>> No.15271749

>>15271701
>"Uh, miss," I said, trying to keep my calm. "I've got a lot of cold, dark files to look over tonight. 'Less you got something that'll help me put away fifty years of cases, we'll have to rearrange this little rendezvous for the morrow."
>"That's no way to talk to a lady, detective," she demurred, and her cold, dark eyes were darker and colder than ever. "Now, where can a pretty little thing like me get a drink around here?"

>> No.15271762

>>15271749

>"Well, there's a bottle of Scotch in my drawer," I said. "But nice girls don't drink Scotch, so I don't know what you're going to have."

>"Scotch will do just fine, honey," she said with half a smile.

>> No.15271768

>>15271478
It’s a parody of Raymond Chandler who wrote in that noir style

>> No.15271799

>>15271762
>The glint in her eyes when she said she drank Scotch told me she was something else. Not quite the city girl I sussed her out for, and I've got the eye for that kind of thing. No, no, she was altogether different from the regular broads who walked through those office doors, crying about their cheating husbands and their petty larcenies and so on. The look in her eyes told me she knew something, knew something about me, and I didn't like other people figuring me out before I them.

>> No.15271844

>>15271799

"All right," I said. "You didn't come all the way up here to drink my Scotch. A girl like you can get a free Scotch any time you want just by walking into a bar with a man in it. Talk to me. Tell me a story."

>> No.15271869

>>15271844
>"I didn't know a man like you would be fond of stories" she said.
>"That's because you can never 'know' a man like me."

>> No.15271892

>>15271869

>"What sort of stories do you like best?" she asked.
>"True ones," I said.
>"Aww, that's no fun at all," she said. "A girl has to have SOME secrets. Will half-true do?"
>"Sure, " I said. "That'll be about 25% more truth than I usually get."

>> No.15271913

>>15271844
>"You are a very incredulous man, Mr. detective", she said, with an alluring smile, as she put a small purse on my desk.

>> No.15271916

>>15271892
>"Ha," she said. "You've got some wit, detective. I like that in a man."
>"Did you come all the way down here to play coy, miss," I said, "or will you tell me a story?"
>"That depends," she said. "Do you believe in ghosts, detective?"

>> No.15271924

Probably one of the best threads on this board in years.

>> No.15271998

>>15271916

>"For fifty a day and expenses, I'll believe in anything you want, " I said. "Let's hear it."

>She bit her lip. Maybe she was really having trouble coming out with it. Or maybe she just knew what a thing like that does to a man's train of thought. What would it feel like to be the one doing the biting? But her voice pulled my out of my reverie.

>"I think my apartment might be haunted," she said.

>> No.15272057

>>15271074
based pepe marlowe

>> No.15272097

>>15271998
>"Miss..." I said, smirking. "I've heard a lot of cold, dark ghost stories like that, but yours takes the cake. Here, I'll make a note to send my guy there tomorrow for an interview."
>"Detective, now you're just being flippant."
>"Let me guess: long-lost brother of yours? Maybe a lover you stuffed in a suitcase come back for revenge?"
>"Detective, I!"
>"Look, Miss, you're easy on the eyes, but I've got a lot on my plate right now. Why don't you make like a jack and hit it: I've got to deal more with, uh, temporal matters, if you catch my drift."

>> No.15272142

>>15272085

>She lowered her eyes. "All right. I knew it was hopeless coming here." She picked up her purse. "Thank you for your time, detective. I- I'll just have to manage on my own."

>She was good, all right. That catch in her voice, the unshed tears in her eyes... I'll bet she'd practiced them in front of her mirror a thousand times. But only a sucker would have believed them, and only a fool would have seen through them and still gone along.

>"OK, OK, you win," I said. "I'm your man."

>> No.15272148

>>15271998
>"I'll set your mind at ease in no time at all. Now tell me, what specifically has happened."
>"Detective you need to see yourself. My stuff moves, windows rattle, doors lock and unlock whenever they please, please, I can't sleep at night." She downed the scotch as a reward for the confession.
>I let a minute or so pass for her to catch breath. I started with the standard paranoid client questions, "Now this one is important, whenever you're ready..."
>"Yes get to it, I need you to see what's happening," interrupting, she gripped the table as if it were about to fly off.

>> No.15272186

>>15272142

>She sat back down. "Oh! I'm so grateful. Really detective you can't imagine how trying it's been for me —"

>She reached and took my hand in both of hers. Was this more play-acting, or was she genuinely scared? I thought it probably ought to matter but I was beginning to forget why.

>"Go on" I said.

>> No.15272254 [DELETED] 

>>15272148
>>15272186
>You could tell by the way her body was swaying that the Scotch was starting to have an effect on her. To think of it though, how she downed so much before it did: you knew she'd danced this tango before. With how many others before me?
>"Detective, again, I just want to thank you so much for your--"
>"Miss, you're all right. Just tell me what happened after the shutters started--" he said, stopping, holding back his disbelief. "After those shutters started flying around, miss."

>> No.15272276

>>15272148
>>15272186
>You could tell by the way her body was swaying that the Scotch was starting to have an effect on her. To think of it though, how she downed so much before it did: you knew she'd danced this tango before. With how many others before me?
>"Detective, again, I just want to thank you so much for your--"
>"Miss, you're all right. Just tell me what happened after the shutters started--" I said, stopping, holding back my disbelief. "After those shutters started flying around, miss."

>> No.15272298

>>15271287
Kek, the smoke bit is actually pretty good

>> No.15272334

>>15272254

>She collected herself. "Of course. Well — I suppose I wasn't really quite accurate before. I don't live in an apartment at all. It's a house. But I only use a few of the rooms. It's too big for just one person."

>"And this house would be where, exactly?"

>"Brentwood," she said shyly.

>This I liked the sound of. When you hear a ghost story from a homeless woman, she's crazy. When you hear a ghost story from a woman who can afford a big house in Brentwood, she's just eccentric. "OK, so you're all alone in a big house in Brentwood. Now what? Maybe you're watching a scary movie on television?"

>She flushed. "Now you're making fun of me. It wasn't anything like that. Well — this house has a big basement. It's quite deserted. I never go there. But lately, I've been hearing sounds, sometimes very late at night, coming from there."

>The play-acting was gone now, I was sure of it. This was the real deal.

>"What sort of sounds?"

>"A voice - like a young man's. But it says strange things - bizarre things."

>"Such as?"

>"Well... only last night.. I was sure I heard the word 'TRIPS!'."

>"I think it's time we took a look at this basement of yours," I said.

>> No.15272359

>>15272334
>She was off by one, but she didn't know it when she said it. Off by one, just like I had been a few years ago myself, with the one broad I don't care enough to remember. Off by one when the lead I had off Brookelm went cold.

>> No.15272376

>>15272359
>And the dark, also.

>> No.15272414

>>15272376
>Yes. It was time for us to get to the basement. It'd be cold and dark. The problem? I hadn't brought a coat.

>> No.15272451

>>15272414

>I was all set to drive over to Brentwood, but it turned out she had a limousine waiting outside my block. It was probably no longer than a jumbo jet and no shinier than the Hope Diamond. "I guess this will do, " I said.

>"We can take your car if you like," she said, her eyes laughing.

>"Naa, " I said. "I doubt they let cars like mine into Brentwood anyway."

>> No.15272507

>>15272451
>"Suit yourself," she said, and her face lit up almost like one of them simpering soubrettes in a poster I saw once in Paris. The reader doesn't need to know this, but I went on a trip to Paris for a case I was doing a year back with John. We used to go out on cold, dark nights to pick up the finest Parisian charms, dressed up in their silk and frills and evening dresses. We never solved the case, no, but the memories, oh, the memories...
>"Detective, are you all right?" she asked.
>I bounced back from my daydream: "Yeah, miss, let's go."
>"You know," she said, "we've been chatting for a minute and you haven't even told me your name."
>"Names just get you more attached to the thing, and they don't get to the matter of what they're naming, anyways."

>> No.15272569

>>15272507

>The chauffeur was everything the chauffeur of that car ought to have been. His uniform was immaculate and his driving gloves were spotless and his eyes were cold and dark and full of hate. That was fine by me. If I'd been in his place I'd have hated me too.

>> No.15272637

>>15272569
>"Hey buddy," I said, "it's okay to lighten up a bit."
>You could tell the chauffeur was trying to hold back from scorning. It's always been a part of my life to bring things to a head, to make things exciting. Some would call it stupid or dangerous, but I don't think they could tell you what living was themselves. Me? I enjoy the little things.
>The chauffeur pulled his face back into the tightest, most contrived smile you ever saw and said:
>"Sir, indeed. I find lightening up is such a good preserver of the complexion. It has, from what I can tell, done wonders for you."
>"You bet it has," I said. "I'm the happiest man alive."
>Chuckling at the chauffeur's poor excuse for a performance, I sat down on the cold, dark seat and waited for a drink.

>> No.15272728

>>15272637

>I sat back and watched the streets get cleaner and the black faces get rarer and the cops get more deferential. Money has a smell all right, and I could smell it now.

>Something cold touched my hand. I jerked it away and looked down. A small dark shape was sitting next to my leg.

>"Oh, that's just Patrick," she said. "I breed Pomeranians, you know. A girl needs SOME companionship."

>"Named after the British astronomer, I assume?" I asked.

>"No, after my first husband," she said. "I wanted to remember him somehow, and it was either this or listen to his dreadful Phil Collins albums."

>"I take it he's not around any more?" I said.

>"He's really not," she said with a wry smile.

>> No.15272821

>>15272728
>"That makes things easier, then," I said.
>"How do you mean?" she asked.
>"Nothing. Has it gotten lighter outside or what?"
>"Oh no, honey," she said. "We're just coming into the more, how do you say, reputable part of town."
>"I noticed," I said, grinning. "Back there the people were all camouflaged in the dark."
>"And it was colder, too," she said. "It's getting warm in here."
>"It's because the drink's been getting to you, miss."

>> No.15272917

>>15272821
>Her house was set way back from the road, and if she employed fewer than a dozen gardeners to keep the hedges trimmed they must have been working round the clock. The gates whispered open and we drew up outside the door.

>"I don't suppose you've considered the possibility that there's someone in your basement?" I asked.

>She shook her head firmly. "Of course, that's the first thing I thought of. But it's so cold and dark in there; it's quite impossible. Anyway, when the noises started I asked the butler to keep an eye on it. He said no-one came out for two straight days. No, there can't be anyone in there, detective. At least — "

>"At least what?"

>"At least, not any normal person."

>> No.15273024

>>15272917
>"Well, guess it's time to settle this once and for all," I said, heading for the side doors that led to the basement.
>"Oh, detective, wait," she said, "shouldn't I come with you?"
>"No, stay here," I said. "I used to live in Kansas when I was a kid. If you know anything about it, it's a haven for tornadoes. We used to go down in the basement, me and my family, and just wait it out. I remember just shaking in my mother's arm just hoping for it all to end."
>I paused to regather myself, then said:
>"So, miss, I'm used to the cold and to the dark. Stay here, I'll be right back."

>> No.15273057

HOW DO I STOP WRITING LIKE THIS AAAAGHH NOOO FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK

>> No.15273203

>>15273024
>>15273057
>She nodded. Presently, I gripped the cold, dark handle of the basement door and pulled it open. Inside was cold and dark, and I stepped in without any sense of myself in the world--as if I had willingly entered some unknown dimension of inscrutable proportion. I wanted to call out to that woman, that "miss" with whom I had just been talking, but I needed to prove myself to her, that I was a real man doing my job for her. I knew she'd think more of me if I could do this myself. The basement was just a black pool of nothingness, save for the moonlight that presently poured through the opening of the door I'd just let loose. Oh, the love we'd make soon, the love we'd make together over a nice combination of cheese and wine. How cold and dark those eyes were.

>> No.15273265

>>15271621
mark hollis was a genius. rip

>> No.15273338

>>15271074
Someone was killed, 'neath the town hall light
There were few at the scene, but they all agreed
That the slayer who ran, looked a lot like me

>> No.15273381

>>15273203

>My hand felt along the wall to a light-switch. I snapped it on.

>The room was as I imagined. In one corner, a swivel chair, desk, computer terminal. Half-empty pizza boxes strewn everywhere. A bottle of Pepsi and six cans of Coors Light beside the mouse mat.

>I walked over to the computer. No internet connection. I frowned. There was something I couldn't put my finger on.

>In one corner lay a pile of old Japanese graphic novels. Under them was the router, as I knew it would be. Automatically I cycled the power to re-establish the dropped connection. But something was wrong, terribly wrong.

>Footsteps sounded in the passageway — high-heeled footsteps.

>She appeared in the doorway. "Is — is he coming back?" she asked.

>I felt cold and dark, like the surface of a lake at midnight.

>"No, he isn't," I said.

>> No.15273464

>>15273381
>"Then what are you waiting for?" she asked.
>She looked at me then with that mischievous, coy gaze she had given me in the office, when the smoke from my cigarette had vanished and her face, unveiled, had shone in all its cold, dark beauty. She moved toward me, the sinuous folds of her dress undulating gently in the night's soft breeze: she took off one of her straps, and her shoulder was pale, spotted by a mole here and there. Her rosered lips brushed against mine.
>"Miss, wait," I said, putting my hand on that shoulder, cool, soft. "None of this makes any sense."

>> No.15273487

>>15273381

>She looked at me a long time. "What are you talking about?" she said at last.

>"He won't be coming back because he never existed," I said.

>I was wrong about her eyes being cold and dark and inviting. They were only cold and dark, and their invitation was the invitation of a freshly-opened grave. "I don't — "

>"It was a nice little scheme," I said. My voice sounded cold and dark in my ears, as though I were speaking in a cave. "You wanted me to think someone was living here. But no internet troll would have a man-cave like this. Coors Light and Pepsi? If you'd made it Doctor Pepper and Jack Daniels I might have bought it."

>Surely you don't —"

>"It's not just that. These half-empty pizza boxes. Don't make me laugh. When a shut-in gets pizza, he eats until the job's done. And that dropped connection. You expect me to believe this mysterious young man didn't know how to reset a router?"

>> No.15273536

>>15273487

>"But why would I —"

>"I don't know but I can guess. You got into the online scene, thought you'd see where the deep web led you. You liked sitting down here in the dark, playing at being a hacker. But you're still a woman. You still need someone to fix your stuff when things go wrong."

>She reached out and took my hand. Hers were cold. "I - I couldn't face that Calcutta helpline again," she wailed.

>> No.15273558
File: 185 KB, 800x264, wtf.png [View same] [iqdb] [saucenao] [google]
15273558

>>15271287

>> No.15273576

>>15273536
>>15273487
>"Calcutta, eh? I knew it. You bought into the Fantano phenomenon like the rest of the world did. Did you know he even gave Fiona Apple's most recent record a 7/10 when Pitchfork gave it its first 10 in a decade?"
>"I just--"
>"You women are all the same: you gambol and you amble and you sing and you do the cold and dark thing and I'm so fucking tired of it, woman."

>> No.15273580

>>15273536
>Since she pulled my hand to her, I naturally began to caress her breasts. Then, I slipped my pinky into her bra and flicked her vermilion nipple with it. It became dark and cold like my heart.

>> No.15273611

>>15273580
>My heart fluttered like it had never done so before: it felt like I had walked into a miracle the likes of which one could only experience maybe once or twice in a lifetime. My heart fluttered as I fingered her nipple: up, down, and all around, until it hardened. Her moans were dark and full of longing, and the cold night heard her.

>> No.15273613

>>15273576

>"I — I know I lied to you," she said. "But I couldn't tell you the truth. It was sure to be something really simple and you would think I was such a fool. I was so ashamed and — "

>I pulled the bottle of Scotch out of my pocket. I'd forgotten to replace the top in the limousine. It was empty, and there was a cold, dark patch spreading on my trousers.

>"Looks like it's the end of the road for both of us," I said.

>> No.15273622

>>15272097
>"Why don't you make like a jack and hit it"
woah based

>> No.15273659

>>15273613
>She smiled, always prepared for the opportunity to make a joke. This would be one of the last I heard from her:
>"Is that a spill from the Scotch, or are you just happy to see me?"
>Cold and dark cold and dark cold and dark cold and dark cold and dark cold and dark.

>> No.15273707

>>15273611
>And not only the night
>if the fields and valleys and rivers could speak, they'd respond with her eternal moans.
>for a brief moment, there was light and warmth as if I were once again in the womb.
>but it was all a lie.
>if you were to ask the fields and the valleys and the rivers to speak, they'd tell you of my dark and cold heart.
>it was raining outside just like it was raining in my soul

>> No.15273733

>>15273707
>and the rain fell pattering over my heart
>and I remembered talking to a willow
>a willow down by the verge of the lake
>and it said
>it said
>"She will come no more: lay thee down."
>and so I did
>I wait for her still

>> No.15273755
File: 81 KB, 516x440, 1588533043617.jpg [View same] [iqdb] [saucenao] [google]
15273755

>>15271074
are not all nights inherently dark

>> No.15273828

>>15273659

>I smiled. Something in her eyes told me it was not a nice smile.

>"Go ahead and laugh, " I said. "Call in your butler and your chauffeur and your cook and I'm sure they'll laugh too, if you tell them to."

>"You mean —"

>"That's right. I'm leaving."

>"But why?"

>I thought of all the reasons. She would never understand, but maybe I owed it to her to try. Or maybe I owed it to myself.

>"Because you don't just put this life on like a hat, lady. Because you have to earn it. Because you've never made a Facebook post that didn't get a hundred comments, or a Tweet that didn't get a hundred likes. Because this is all a game to you."

>I stopped. I could see it was useless.

>"We could have been so good together," she said.

>"Sure, but for how long? A month? A year? Then I'd just be another Patrick. I'd rather be someone you remember without having to name a damned dog after him. So long, lady. And next time this happens just power cycle your router."

>The night was cold and dark, and it was a long way back to my part of town. But there was nowhere I needed to be.

>THE END

>> No.15273833

>>15273755
If you're being serious that refers to there being no moon and starlight because of cloud cover.

>> No.15273848

>>15273828
BASED.

>> No.15273966

>>15273659
>The scotch's brand, Speck Hatty, never made much sense to me 'til now

>> No.15274092

>>15273966
>I guess what they say is right: when you're concupiscent and lusty
>just drink Speck Hatty

>> No.15275584

>>15273828
this was a good end to it. thanks for this, anon. Godspeed.

>> No.15276190

I can't bear this thread going. Someone else read it.

>> No.15276308
File: 25 KB, 680x384, the stranger.jpg [View same] [iqdb] [saucenao] [google]
15276308

>>15271074
>The day was scorching and oppressive

>> No.15277285

>>15276308
and

>> No.15277599

posting in epic bread