The inspiration …
A story
“He’s at it again, Mr. Tate.”
Her cat answered with a yawn, returning to sleep.
Gladys sighed, turning to peer through the blinds, watching her new neighbor silhouetted against a backyard fire.
Gladys took pride her in observational skills, keeping a journal of neighborhood comings & goings, compiling gossip & license plates. The enigmatic newbie was an exciting addition. Odd night hours, odder night visitors, strange shadows cast by intense, nearly smokeless, fires.
Gladys started, suddenly aware the fire was no longer tended. She was leaning towards the window when a hand gripped her shoulder.
“Dear, do come join us.”
******************************************************
Now, your turn.
“I hope Mick is on time,” she thought. “If not, the whole thing falls apart.”
She watched the men in the black sedan, waiting.
She loved Mick. But she was desperate. She couldn’t see any other way out. Stupid nag horses.
Besides, they weren’t going to kill him, just make sure he knew not to continue this particular investigation.
Where was he?
One of the men in the sedan got out and ambled to the corner, looking up and down the street.
She started at the voice. “Your friends aren’t very bright, Darleen. They don’t know about the rear entrance.”
“It’s cheap.”
“It doesn’t need to be fancy.”
“It’s obvious.”
“Your target audience will get it right away.”
“It’s tawdry.”
“It’s edgy.”
“It’s lifeless.”
“Monochrome is all the rage these days.”
“She looks like a hooker!”
“Sex sells, what can I say?”
“You can’t even see her face!”
“Why would you want to?”
“It’s like she wants to kill someone!”
“See, it’s grabbed your interest already.”
“It’s for a bloody advertisement!”
“It’s for a local newspaper advertising circular insert. Whaddya want?”
“I want something that advertises window blinds!”
“The whole picture screams window blinds.”
“Oy.”
“Trust me, this works.”
Excellent, Steve.
3 Comments