Download Report Date: Apr 2, 2007, 13:23:10 Category: Literature -> Prose -> Fiction -> Miscellaneous Stars: 0 Favourites: 1 Tools used: OpenOffice.org Views: 61 (Full: 2)

Description:
An attempt at written Noir in tribute to the lovely DemonicaDeMorte.

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The fog was thick and heavy.  The night had no moon to show off the petty crimes being committed under the dark and starlit sky that night.  There was nothing to show a road weary traveler the way.

My name is Dean.  I am a lost man with no hope of ever being found.

And I needed a drink.

I finally saw a little bar at the side of the road that had a neon side that was mostly broken and all the way sad.  I didn't even take the time to think about what I may catch there, I needed to wet my whistle and this place was it until I hit the border.

As soon as I opened the door I could smell the think layer of stale beer and heavy cigarette smoke.  While not altogether disgusting, it took a minute to allow the senses to adjust to such a barrage.  I sat down at the nearest booth to the door and waited.

The place was dead.  There was an act on stage that I couldn't see through the smoke, looked like she had just finished a set and was taking a bit of a break before the next one.  I didn't care, all I was in here for was a drink and a chance to stretch my legs before I went back to the long and lonely road that I had chosen to travel.

I think I sensed her before I saw her.  My nose picked out a smell that didn't belong in a place like this, something that reminded me of jasmine and summer afternoons by the make, something that made me think of better times, brighter times.

My head lifted and I saw heavy lashes over honest eyes batting down at me.

“You have a light Mister?”  The voice, silken with a touch of gravel from too many cigarettes, whispered to me with a sultry sound that made me remember what gender I was in a big hurry.

I flicked open my lighter and watched as she lit a smoke off of a long stemmed cigarette holder that was as out of place in a dive like this as she was.  It was just unnatural I tell you.

“Thanks.”

With that she walked back to the stage and I watched her every step of the way.  her hips swaying back and forth like a metronome on top of a piano keeping time.  Her body had curves in all the right places all right, I was looking at her so hard I thought I would knock her over.

She got back on the stage and started a slow jazz tune that made every man in the place remember what it was like to be a man.  Her mouth formed the words so perfectly you would have thought she invented jazz just to show off her sweet and perfect lips.  Her body swayed to the beat with an unnatural perfection and her voice carried over the room and filled even the tiniest void with it's allure.  It was the song of a siren that promised you paradise in exchange for just the tiniest piece of your soul.  A perfection that drove me to stand up and stare slack jawed at the stage, just like every other man in the room.

The sweat was rolling down my neck like a ball down the bowling alley and I knew I would never leave if I didn't do it right then.  I walked up the the stage and saw a hat laying there where the offerings to the vocal goddess could be cast.  I took whatever it was I had in my wallet and dropped it without even a thought as to how much it is.

I had to know one thing before I left, I had to know or it would drive me mad, mad until I threw myself over a bridge.

My articulation failed the same time the question came to mind and all I could gutturally grunt was...

“Your name...”

Her voice stopped without so much as a taper, the silence was eerie after the perfect song and she smiled at me as she ran a gloved hand under my chin a single time.

“Demonica.”

Years later it is now and all I can hear in my head each night as I lay down next to my wife and below the rooms of my children is that voice, that heaven sent voice that burns within me like the fires of hell.

“Demonica.”