1) Set vid on 1080p fullscreen 2) Turn off the lights 3) Pretend your monitor is a window you're looking through 4) Feel like a hardboiled private detective on any given night on his little office at the docks of the dark and corrupt city
Noire Night… Curling smoke, old cigar, Dusty ashtray, familiar bar, Hey barkeep, one last shot, Nickel in the jukebox slot, Pay the tab, slip outside, Misty darkness, distance hide, Footsteps echo, slowly fade, Haze of street lamp, dark of shade, Pitter patter, starts to rain, Reminded of familiar pain, Trench coat on, fedora top, Wetly walking, pass bus stop, Turn on Main Street, neon lights, Street reflection, just as bright, On the sidewalk, pass the hustle, Skirt the park, tall trees rustle, To the building, few yards away, Place to work, place to stay, Unlock door, up the stairs, Busy janitor, unawares, Slip in office, close the door, peer out window, at the shore, In the distance, city lights, Shadows walking, in the night, Coat and hat, hang on rack, Stretching yawn, kink in back, Loosen tie, shoes on floor, pour a nightcap, lock the door, Open file, in desk lamp light, Close it again, not tonight, Hello desk, meet my face, Tomorrow it's another case.
the day begins with an aching face, its about time I start my case, take one look down the street, then look back down at my feet, light a cigar with a slow pace, even though I should make haste, cause just one second is all it takes, for there to be another case, in the dim alleyways of this cruel town, is just more time for a dead body to be found, then to lock someone up in the pound, its a vicious cycle don't you see? this city will drag you down to your knee's, but in the end I don't give up, even though I've had enough, take out the cigar and then I puff, and then I start to pick up my pace, I look up from my feet, and then I hurry down the street, I get to work on my new case, the day then ends with an aching face. eyyyy I made my own...idk if I should be too proud though
Noire City...the kind of place your father doesn't wanna talk about. It's a city that'll make you rich, or leave you in the gutter. Can't walk down the city's Red Light district with out passing a saloon or brothel at every corner. You'll see the high rollers, the ones that drive by in old Tuckers with a dame or two at his side. Me, I'm just your average joe. I work as a private eye, doesn't pay much but it keeps me fed and living in my two room apartment. I'm walking out of Kitty's saloon after having one two many. I can still walk though, only a half mile to that run down boarding house. As I walk I fix the fedora on my head. It's drizzling, but this jacket will hold me up. All the girls that usually stand at the curb selling their "merchandise" have taken shelter at their respective brothels. Realizing that I fell in Kitty's, I shuffle around in my pockets for my cigarettes; I pull out the crushed pack. "Uuugh" I sighed. I find one still together and light it as I stumble the rest of the way. "Ugh she threw you in the gutter Johnny, never gonna make it like those hotshots." The boardinghouse was two stories, including a loft the landlord stayed in, grumpy old bastard. He meets me In front of his office, sour look as usual. "What have I told you about smoking in here boy?" I take one last puff and flick it outside. He continued, "a woman stopped by seeking an appointment" he held a piece of paper with notes scribbled on it. "Pretty young thing, Mary Waltz, just what we need, another Kraut" I took the piece of paper and found her address. I thought to myself; she lives in the high end district, what would she want with a bum like me? I've been practically useless since I was shot. She's paying big...
I fold the note containing her address and phone number and stuff it into the pocket on my leather jacket. I start towards the stairs fumbling around for my keys. "Aw Jesus you drunk too? Ya know one of these day you're gonna fuck something up Johnny" grumply mumbles the old tenant. I chuckle under my breath "You have a good night mr. Macowski"I say back in a cheeky manner. I'll leave the old Pollack to himself, probably lost a bet at the tracks today "yeah you too. See what that old dame's up to then" Reaching the top of the creaky stairwell I start to overhear the domestic disputes between the Prinćips, a Serbian couple that moved in a few months ago. My room is down at the end of the hall next to the attic entrance. Room 2D. The lock is just as stubborn as ever to open but never fails at making the distinctive 'clunk' when it gives way. I open the door to my musky quarters and flip on the lights, filling the room with a cloudy yellow. Undressing, I wonder about that Waltz gal, why she would have the idea of coming to me for whatever problem she has. Maybe with a stalking ex-lover or maybe even her missing cat. Hm even if it's a lost pet the money will be good. I lay down on my bed agreeing to myself that it would be best to contact her In the morning when I sober up. My dreams are restless, the pain of laying on my side where I was shot is numbed by the alcohol.
"Shit happens"....I thought to myself...As I walked on an old, Empty road...Thinking of the crooked mistakes and the fucked up things I have done...To lead to my life of sorrow..."Friends are dead, Parents are dead, Women dispise me, What I got to live for?"....As the rain picked up...And only added weight to my depression, I struck a match and lit my cuban cigar..."There was that only one girl...That really ever gave me a break from that shit, The shit I was put through"....I thought...That gal had me messed up...Dark brown hair, Big brown eyes, Perfect body, Soft lips, Smooth skin and A great soul..."All she did was be there for me"....I thought to myself silently...She was 16 and I was 13...But she was there for me..."How could have I started this violent life at such a young and innocent age?"....I walked...And contemplated the sorrowful life I've lived..."Ain't got nothin? Never claimed by a girl, Never had a chance of true happiness".....Big black bags hung under my eyes from my 32 years of insomnia...Because of the mistakes I've made...And the shit I caused, I have nobody...This walk may be my last...It may be.....I walked...And I walked...My coat was wet from the rain that feel from the sky...My Sunglasses keeping people lookin' into my eyes...I finally came to a stop in the middle of no-where...There lie the graves of everyone I ever loved or who ever was my friend....Then in the middle...Was that girl, The one girl who gave me refuge when I was 13....I step to her grave and say..... "It's been an awful and quite shitty life I've lived sweetheart, But of all the people who could have loved me...It was you, The girl I met by accident...The girl who claimed I still had some good left in me...The girl who gave me refuge...The girl who was with me when my closest friends, Who are like brothers to me...When they died, You were there...There to help me get past the shit...And I never really got to thank you the proper way...After all the crooked and horrible things I've done...You still loved me...And for that i couldn't ever be thankful enough...It's was hard...Losing you...Losing my friends...Owning up to my sorrow...And only now do I realise...Realise something that has taken me 32 years to figure out...Something I would have never done...It's time to move on" I said...I placed two M1911s on her grave...With the are the names of my friends and family that i lost....Wrote on one, And on the other...written My own name...And the words "Time to move on".....I then place a rose on her grave..under the pistols...And I walk away...On that same long, And empty road i came from....As the rain kept fallin'...The wind howlin'...I felt a feeling...A feeling I have never felt before, Freedom...True freedom..........
Ever since I was a young teenager, I always had a love for all things noir, I just was never able to put a name to it. Everything from slow, dark jazz music to neo-noir anime shows intrigued me. I feel like it's a whole other world where I may have once been apart of in a past life. Thank you for the video friend.
Crimes happened every day,every time and i was there to make justice,had a full day on the streets and it was already midnight,but someone was in my mind, i couldnt sleep,it was...
Name's Rick Rant. Private eye. Used to be a public eye, until the city bigwigs decided to trim their budget. Election year, see? I remember it like yesterday...'cuz it was yesterday. I had a small pension that would keep me alive, but bored. I wondered what I would do for the rest of my life. As I walked out of the station, I detected a dime-stuck to some gum-stuck to my shoe. Let's face it, I said to my self. Being a detective was all I was good at. I peeled off the dime and stuck it in my pocket. I left the gum on my shoe as a good luck charm, a sign that things would get better. It's... stereotypical, see? And they did. I managed to get a new lease on an old office, with old furniture. I hung my shingle on my door and proceeded to stare out the third story window. It was starting to rain. That's when 'she' walked in. I could see her blue eyes thru the smoke of my cigar. They looked cloudy. She had legs like the Pacific Coast Highway. "I need your help, Rick," she said. "My friend's missing." I was a bit surprised. "How'd you find me so fast?" I said. "I haven't even put something in the paper, let alone the phone book." I looked her up and down. "There was a trail of gum..." I was right. It WAS a good luck charm. But I knew I needed more than luck if I was gonna take on my first private case. I would have to be sneaky. So I reached foe my sneakers, which had no gum on them, see?
I sat in the Commissioner's office, his cigar smoldering in the ashtray as his stood with his back to me. "How many times do I have to tell you, huh?" he asked rhetorically. "The case went cold. It's closed." I couldn't except that. "C'mon, I can solve the case. I'm one of your best detectives!" I told him. He turned and faced me. "Which is why I need you on actual solvable cases! So for the last time, no! If you persue this one more time, I'll suspend you without pay. Ya hear me?" "Yeah, sure." I grumbled as I got up and turned away. "'Yes, sir' or 'Yeah, sure'?" He asked sternly. I let out a sigh. "Yes, sir." I said, making my way to the door. "One more thing, Detective." He said as I stopped in front of the door. "That dame tying into the case. I've seen ya talkin' to her. I'd advice stopping. She ain't nothing but trouble." I looked at the Commissioner over my shoulder. "Don't worry, she won't be a problem." I then left, closing the door behind me. The Commissioner sat in his chair and grumbled, "It ain't her being a problem I'm worried about."
"Same old stuff" I thought as I stepped out into the empty street. I could see my breath produce a fog under my eyes. I sighed as I light a cigarette. "These damn things will be the end of me" I thought as I buried my face into the collar of my trench coat. I threw the cigarette to the ground without even taking a puff. I wondered how late it was, surely my wife would be asleep. No need to rush home, I thought. I began to walk down old 54th street and headed up to auburn street. As I walked, the rain picked up, and I noticed the streets were empty. "Strange" I whispered to myself. I walked on and decided to stop in to the old dinner a few blocks down to get a cup of joe. To my surprise the place was empty. " what'll ya have,chuck" said the man behind the counter. "One hot cup of joe" There wasn't much more to say to the man, so I sat in silence until the door of the dinner opened. I didn't look back but the stranger decided to take a seat right next to mine. "What'll ya have, chuck?
Same sentence, same greeting. "A hot cup of joe" said the stranger. I had finished my coffee right as the stranger had received his. As I got up to leave I felt the strange bump my side. I didn't think much of it as he almost spit an apology at me. "What a strange night, even the old dinner was empty." I walked on for a good 30 minutes or so without knowing where I was going. The rain picked up again and I decided to find myself some shelter. I couldn't help but feel as though I was being watched, so I picked up the pace. I heard footsteps behind me, stopping as I stopped and starting as I started. I picked up the pace, I instinctively checked to see if I was still carrying my handgun, thank God I never leave home without it. At this moment I felt something else, something in my pocket sharing the space with my hand. It felt like a piece of paper. I decided to wait to read it in case it got wet in the ran. I finally made it to auburn street and rushed into my home where I found my key
Wasn't working. Did my wife change the locks? No she couldn't have. She was at work all day. As I fumbled with the key I heard footsteps, getting louder and louder. I reached for my gun in a panic only able to find the piece of paper. The gun was gone. "Shit" I cried out loud. I decided to unfold the paper and read what was there as I got ready to meet my pursuer. The note simply read. "I'm taking over, jack" As I looked up I became face to face with the stranger. It was as if I was looking in a mirror. He was,just like me. "Sorry it had to be like this jack." He said as he readied the same gun I was carrying earlier. I closed my eyes and realized what was happening. It seemed crazy, but wherever I was. It wasn't the same place I woke up to the day prior. This, was different. "It'll be over soon jack, I'll do a much better job than you did."
Looking back at it I should have known she was playing my heart like a 4 stringed fiddle and I was a fool to let it continue but I needed those answers. Frankly I couldn’t tell you a word she said, her words were like sweetened honey. Within an hour we were walking my old beat, down 29th arm in arm as I was recalling old stories of my partner. We ended up outside the Acme building just off of 31st street, that’s when she left me. Maybe the answers were here… or maybe they were still with her. I've never seen that dame since, nor have I seen my heart since that night.
This is the mix that got me into the entire noir genre, from music to film. Nearly a decade later I can’t thank you enough. I had to scroll quite a while to find it, but I’m glad I did.
The case that makes you, and the case that breaks you. The one you never solve, the one that keeps you up at night. The case that gnaws on your gut and ruins your marriage. The case that keeps you prepping up a bar as you relive the what-ifs, the might-have-beens, the half-leads and the half-truths. The case other cops murmur about whenever you walk past. The case you never, ever, discuss.
I liked this video like 8 years ago. Heard all this music being used in a papa meat video. I type noir music, nothing couldn't find this video. I look through my liked videos for like an hour. Then here she is. My favorite video. The rest are just pale imitation.
Rick Rant made his way through the pouring rain to a small door on the side of an unremarkable building. His account was flush from a successful case- until rent, that is. He knocked three times, then four. Two seconds later, a peephole opened. Two more seconds, a latch moving, and the door swung open. The tarnished brass sign on the door read "Old Stuff for All". Pretty risky, Rant thought. Advertising a speakeasy as an antique store. But then again, the cops were wising up to the "ice cream parlors" that had sprung up all too quickly around town. But this place, this familiar hole in the wall, had some history, some legitimacy. Hey, it even had some antiques sitting around on shelves. All the barkeep had to do was hide a few bottles of the good stuff under the counter. Rick greeted Joe as he sat down on the leather barstool, thankful for a dry seat. "What's your poison, Rick? ", he said in a low, friendly voice. "Just a shot of Bourbon, Joe; maybe a few more after that. " A few moments later, he was driving the chill out of his bones with the sauce. Rick looked around. The place was lonely, this time of night, but still busy. every now and then, someone would come in, order a drink, leave a note on the bulletin board, then leave. It was huge, on the opposite wall. Joe called it his "Comment Section". People would leave all sorts of messages, stories, criticisms, you name it. Joe said some people didn't even come in to leave a note. The well-to-do's living in the upper floors of the building received their ordered hootch through a secret dumb waiter, and their money and their notes came back through a pneumatic tube system installed years ago. Joe would put the dough in the register, then tack up his high-paying customers' comments onto the board. Rick looked at the notes. Most were notes of thanks for Joe's establishment, some were questions, others actual detective stories. Rick guessed the patrons passing through now and then felt inspired by the noir records Joe played on his electrified gramophone. And every table had a notepad and pen and ink bottle. Rick decided to put his two cents worth up there as well, before heading out on a long, wet walk home. Joe let him borrow his favorite Mont Blanc to do the honors. "Thanx, Joe. You're a pal." Joe waved him off. Then Rick Rant, private eye, buttoned up and went out side. On his way home he stepped on a piece of gum. Gonna get a case tomorrow, he just knew it.
I like reading Fatale to this a good 1950s detective graphic novel with a little twist of scifi. With a leather scented or redwood candle and some Jack and coke during the late evenings. Really sets the mood because I fall asleep when I read in complete silence.
I was sitting on my luxurious black leather chair, contemplating my dark and gloomy office, whilst I had a lit ciggarette in my hand, and a good old whisky in the other one. Contemplating... the sunlight was trying to pierce my curtains behind. I saw around my office while I was waiting for her... my clock, marking the same hour. 7:45 PM. My trenchcoat and fedora in a coat stand. My 1911 gun, ready to ignite. and my door, with the classical and unforgettable ''Dean Miller, Private Eye''. ahhh. I saw shadows pass by the door, I was just there... sitting, waiting for her, and then, she came in, Maria Corielli, Typical Italo-american girl; red dress, a brunette long hair and a smooth and tanned skin, so pretty. We had something, way before the ''incident'' at the Corielli's lounge. what happened, you wonder? Oh well, you see, the father and brother of Maria, Armando Corielli and Bruno Corielli, were maffiosos serving for their own family. As always, Bruno was the head of the family, being the father and all that crap... And Armando was Bruno's right hand man. One night, Maria invited me to the Corielli lounge. I was trying to catch Bruno and Armando a long time, let me tell you that, but Maria didnt knew, she knew I was a private investigator, but not that I intended to arrest her father and brother. Anyways, I was in one of the bar's in the lounge, drinking my favorite whisky, and talking to Maria, of course. But suddendly, not one, not two, nor even fucking three. FOUR armed men entered the lounge, obviously a rival family, for a second I thought they were going to talk so they could stop harrassing each other, but as I saw Vinnie Capuccio entering, I knew this was going to be a rough night. Vinnie entered, and he saw Bruno, who was also in a bit of a commotion by seeing Vinnie, he, naturally, with his relaxed aura, approached Bruno and said ''My amigo, this was a bad night to host a party, see you later'', and as soon as he left the building, the four caporegime thugs opened fire, catching Bruno without warning and killing him instantly. Armando took cover behind the bar but soon was caught amid the fire. I took Maria to cover upstairs and hid from those assholes, I had to cover her ears, she hadnt heard a gun in her entire life, seen them? yes. Heard them? No. She was terrified, frozen in her own thoughts. Minutes passed, and the gunfire ceased... We had a very horrible surprise... Bruno, Armando, and half of the Corielli family were dead. lying on the floor, the blood washing those white marble floors. Maria snapped, and she was broken, so much, not only we ceased contact for many years, but also she never trusted anyone. Except today, in my office, in the night, 7:45 PM to be exact. she sat in front of my, and with her angelical voice said. ''Dean... I've found my family's murderer... please, help me get revenge''. Such sweet voice... yet so much harshness and violence in its inside... ''Marie, as much as I would like to help, I need permission of the boss to organize an attack on the Capuccios, I'm sorry.'' She tried not to cry. But instead, to get angry at me, so she could ''persuade'' me into that. But as much as she tried, she couldnt make it, we may have been something, Rose of mine. But I'm not that easy... She left, leaving a note in my desk, she slammed the door and left with such an anger and sadness, I doubt she would make it back without shearing a tear along the way... ... Now you must be wondering what kind of things had the note... Well... That's an story for another time.
Sorry, didn't mean to sound like a dick lol. It's not like I could do any better (not that I've tried, but I'm assuming I can't out of a lack of experience), but bad noir writing just really makes me cringe haha
themarcshark Hahaha no worries, could you give me some tips, please? I could really use some help... I've been with the ''Noir'' theme a lot of time but writing a book is... hard... (I havent even started lol)
It was raining hard the night that everything changed. It was half past eight and I was taking a drag on my bottle of Jack, with a lit cigar between my fingers, when the dame walked in to my small office and shut the door, blinds rapping against the window that read "Henry Hubert, PI." The downpour continued to tattoo the tin roof as her heels clicked across the creaky floor and she took a seat in the sagging armchair opposite mine. I pulled down the brim of my fedora and said, in a gruff voice, "How d'ya do, m'lady?"
She had legs that didn't stop, they went up and up, caught on the ceiling fan, spun out the window and ricocheted across the city, mugging men of their hearts as they went. No one filed a report. I sure as hell wouldn't.
This is my idea for a script: A young, private detective must uncover the mystery surrounding the disappearance of a girl from his past whom he had a crush on, and believes that she may have been kidnapped by an underground society thought to have gone extinct.
"The dame's scream hit an octave, usually reserved for calling dogs, but it meant I had a case, and the sound of greenbacks slapping against my palm is music to MY ears any day. After all, I'm not an opera critic. I'm a private eye. "I keep two magnums in my desk. One's a gun, and I keep it loaded. The other's a bottle, and it keep ME loaded. I'm Tracer Bullet. I'm a professional snoop. "It's a tough job, but then, I'm a tough guy. Some people don't like an audience when they work. Enough of them have told me so with blunt instruments that I'm a phrenologist's dream come true. "Snooping pays the bills, though. Especially Bill, my bookie, and Bill, my probation officer. "So when a tall brunette opened my door with a case for me, my heart did a few calisthenics and I took the job.
It was a rainy night at Clock Town. Milk Bar. The last delivery took about a 2 hour ride protecting the girl from the damn Gorman Brothers. What was her name? Romani...Malon? My mind is confused. Being warped to the past several times probably fucks with your brain. And so I'm here... 3 days to save the world? Give me 30. Nevermind. It doesn't matter anymore. The curse was casted. I have met a terrible fate.
waking up at 11 o clock in the morning with a pounding headache and bruises on my left eye. Only a blurred image of her dress as red as the motel neon sign across the road lingers in the back of my head. Her red lips sucking the last bit of juice out of that cigarette bud she's been holding the last 15 minutes. The soft wind of jazz in my ears and finally the gunshot that followed. Smoking kills. I know I should leave it alone but frankly that just isn't my style. It's my case now, retired or not, I don't think I'll get out clean on this. It's time to shake things up one last time.
"Los Angeles. The City of Angels the locals say. But at night, there are no angels. It was 11pm and I was closing up shop. Some fools were about to harm this young woman in an alley. Of course, I gave a damn and decided to step in. I gave them a good beating and they fled. This woman I saved, she was very attractive, on her way home from a lounge she was working, she thanked me and advised me to drop by on Saturday night. I couldn't refuse, plus I needed a drink and they had good music." "Saturday night came around the corner, It was a quiet night at my place. Nothing to do but drink some scotch unfortunately I ran out so I'd decided to take the lovely woman's advice and head to the lounge. I sat at the bar, ordered a scotch and there she was. She was very attractive, in a red dress and heels, turns out she was a singer. She performed a song and her voice was enchanting. After the song, she joined me for a drink. Got to talking and she thanked me again for the other night. After two or three drinks, we decided to call a night and went back to my place, we've got to talking for a little bit and then we made love. I'd never felt so much relaxed and finally felt calm."
It was cool night, plugging away on my keyboard, beating down dragons and orcs, typical night in all respects. A sip hear and there out of my flask. Coke and rum, 1950. Smooth. Still in my underwear, haven't bothered to shower yet. I'd get to eventually. Focus on picking targets and kiting a healer around.
10:35… I, Rick Rant, was in my car, on the way out to that vacant building on the docks, with the single streetlight playing with shadows on the main door. I pulled to the far side to meet Guido, my source for all things on the street. But Guido wasn't there. That could only mean two things: either Guido was made, or something major was going down, and he had to be there to see it. Guido had a sixth sense about these things. How else could he get to be the best snitch on this side of the river? It all meant one thing: I shouldn't be here. I should be at my hole of an apartment, waiting by my phone for a tip. Shortly after 11:10, I turned my car around and headed back up the road, back to home, and hopefully back to a belated scoop from my currently misplaced source. C'mon, Guido, come through for me baby.
As I look off to the docs, I realize my life is a big joke. 5 unsolved murders in 5 weeks. I was supposed to be Detective X, private eye, and all that got me is , 5 sad families, and one angry police chief. I just need another lead case just to get my mind off these unsolved murders. Just another raining evening in New York, death, and savagery. Animals. Animals.
Tortuga... the perfect place to be happy after a good treasure hunt. Not for me. The place was empty like never before. I can not say it's because I failed. Afterall, I never fail. The rise of Davy Jones, William's death. No... not my fault. Or that was the way my brain found to keep me away from the truth. I would never forgive me. More rum. More rum...
It was a rainy day in October. I was between jobs and had nothing else better to do, so I pulled my bottle of Rye out of my bottom drawer and blew the dust and other things I don’t want to think about out of my glass. I was alone, Gladys had left in a huff; we had another one of our arguments, I am not sure what it was about and didn’t care. She was the daughter of my old partner and I had known her since she had been running around the office in pigtails. That was back when we were a respectable Agency and had more work than we had time for. When he was killed I crawled into a bottle and tried to die too. Gladys had been trying to save me ever since. I think she had it bad for me, but I wasn’t buying. If she was going to ruin her life, there were plenty of mooks out there that she had the choice of. I thought of her as my little sister. My office was in one of those buildings you see in a formerly fancy part of town that was on its way to being condemned. There was only one other fool who had an office here. He was one of those strange types that do accounting or something like that. I never took enough interest to find out. I poured a glass and put my feet up on the desk, I looked out the window but it was so dirty all that came through was a dim light. I made not to myself to have the janitor clean it. That got me laughing; there hadn’t been a janitor here in decades. The owner of the joint was just waiting for it to collapse so he could put up fancy apartments. There wasn’t much to see even if I could look out my window. Just more of the same, run down buildings with the dregs of society squatting in them. Personally I liked having an office here, if someone was going to take the time to come here, they had a real problem that was worth taking on. I filled my third glass and thought about closing up shop. There was a cheap single bed in what I like to call the file room. I had spent quite a few nights on it. Though my alcoholic haze I heard the tap of heels in the hallway. She had to be coming here, if who ever it was wanted to see the accountant, she would have taken the stairs up to the next floor. I figured it was Gladys coming back for round two. I saw her shadow on the frosted glass of the office door. She hesitated which gave me time to stash the bottle and glass and sit up straight. The door opened and all I could see was legs, the kind of legs that made a guy leave his wife and children for. Luckily I had neither, that I new about, so I enjoyed the view. She was tall, and there was red hair under that big black hat. Redheads had always been my weakness. She stopped in front of my desk and in a husky voice asked, “Are you West?” I nodded and asked, “So what’s a doll like you doing in this neck of the woods?” She took the chair in front of my desk and crossed those long legs. She pulled out a gold cigarette case and took one out and tapped it on the corner of my desk and then put it in her rose colored lips. Before I could grab a matchbook, she licked a lighter and lit it. She took in a long draw and then said, “I think someone is trying to kill me.”
It was chilling, watching the thirsty streets of Nuevo Laredo drink her blood so eagerly. Face down in the gutters she seeped into the drain. Another one, I scratched a tally into my notebook. I slowly exhaled a cloud of smoke, illuminated by the muddy yellow street light the smoke wafted along the wall I leaned against. In my pocket a stolen police radio signalled their arrival. It was time to go. I walked up beside the girl and placed a cigarette in her mouth. Lighting it I briefly watched the smoke waft over her gunshot wound and dissolve into the night. The police would know I was here. They know, I could help them.
It was a rainy night. The Prancing Pony they called the bar. The golden ring pressuring against my chest like never before. The thing is getting harder and harder to carry day after day. Wondering how Bilbo stayed with it for so long time. The old mage was right, afterall: dark magic flows trough it's lines "Ash nazg durbatulûk..." I stopped reading it. It made zero fucking sense to me. I'm tired and just want to sleep. Wondering where the damn Strider is?
It`s been 3 years and I still regularly revisit this video.I am a big jazz fan, but there is somthing special about these tracks.So nostalgic, so relaxing.Amazing music.
Here are my takes on some of my favs here... Night on the docks: Detective stares out the window at the lights of the docks playing upon the water adjacent to his office. He's just paid his bills thanks to a successful case and a grateful and wealthy debutante reunited with her favorite necklace. He has time to reflect on that, and on his failure keeping his marriage together, the daughter he tries to improve relations with, ... what is his goal, what is his end? But the music and water reflections soothe him. Basswalker: Detective follows his charge thru lighted streets, busy streets, lonely streets... and alleyways. Always silent, knowing when to duck in a shadow, not noticed by the targeted henchman, who is in no hurry. He'll follow, lay low, discover his man's contacts. Just keep it cool, keep it quiet... Cool Vibes: Detective has been noticed by one of the dames in his suspect's charge. She's invited him to an upscale lounge, a dive with more class than he's used to. Does she recognize him? Will she rat him out? Only time will tell, as she buys the first round. But he still has too much gentleman in him to let that continue. Next few rounds are on him, and he starts to dig for info. She's relaxed, enjoying this game, but he's got to get names, numbers, addresses, before his bar tab outgrows his rent money.
But he thinks, maybe if he lets go of his chivalry long enough, he might succeed. He'll let her buy the drinks for a while. Just relax, enjoy her company, order more drinks. She's using her boss's money, after all. She needs more drinks. Because the more she drinks, the more she talks, the more she whispers, in his ear. With the right amount of high class booze, she may just sing the tune he wants to hear.
In a dark corner of club desi I sat smoking a cig listening to the bass pound on my already aching head. Last night I got in a bar fight with. Two goons one bashed me over the head with s chair . I leave my booth and make my way to the counter when all of a sudden this chick comes out of no where she offered to buy me a drink , then she asked me what I do for a living. After a few scotches I loosened up and spilled the beans. I told her I was a detective and what my current case was. 2 drinks later I was passed out...
10:28 car comes in at bottom left 11:00 dissapears on the dark 11:15 appears from the dark and goes out. 14:05 another car goes out from the dark. Real thing? There's are a corrupt cop who was waiting for this guy came in with the drugs. He came, then, the cop goes out, looking like it was the drug dealer. Minutes later, the drug dealer goes out. At that time, nobody was looking anymore. This city... full of crimes and corrupted cops. Well, i'm going to watch true detective season 2 now
So it was cold night. The rain dropped heavily on old neon sing, steaming, turning into a mild mist. "Hank Valentine Detective Agency" the inscripton said. Through the doors there was my little, dirty enough to be cosy, office. It smelled like boring sleepless nights and tabacco. I was laying on my chair with last cigarrete from my pack in one hand and in a gun in the other. Back in the days when i was in glory, the youngest luitenant, best cop, i felt something. Now i couldn;t get my eyes close because of this fucking case. That case took my heart from me. I was a hero who put the serial killer in belts. But one thing. He wasn't him. the real murderer got away and i can't look into my own eyes no more. After my third divorce i lost it. Even if im doing the one and only thing im good at, being the private eye is all i know, its just too much. It's not the world for people like me. I put two bullets in a chamber, and i spin it. I look through the window on this black city night full of bad people. I soon be gone. I pull the trigger. Unfortunately not yet...
It looked like rain, so I got up to close the window. That guy on the sidewalk was still playing his sax. He was good, but I had heard enough for one day. When I turned back to my desk, she was already standing in front of it. "Can I help you?", I said. "No, Mr. Starker, I'm here to help you.", she whispered. "You placed a Want Ad for a secretary in today's paper. I'd like to apply for the position." "Cookie, you can have any position you want." I replied, "You're hired as of now. And from now on, call me Mick." "Oh, thank you Mr, uh, Mick." she squealed, "You don't know how happy this makes me." "Sit down, sugar, pour yourself a drink. We've got all night to get to know each other. And you don't know how happy this'll make me!", I said as I removed my tie. That's when the phone rang. That's when it all started to go sideways. Who could've figured that she'd wind up dead, and I'd be sitting in a jail cell talking to you?
Murder on saint Ives continued......(Zak shortly after his encounter with Carly get's into a beat up crown vic to listen to radio call's and think about the case.........music doesn't play till stated. (Zak's monologue as he drives around midtown manhattan night time dressed in tan khaki's a white collared shirt smeared with lipstick....a green slurpee and a cigarette dangling from his mouth with a long leather jacket and a black Tie. (Zak as he drives with no hands and pour's from his flask into the slurpee and several people go under the car with several bumps Zak doesn't notice as someone in the rear view rushes over and screams OH MY GOD MISTER ARE YOU OK.....and the dude next to him say's fuck this grandpa lets take his wallet!!!!) (Zak as he sips his slurpee and drives around mid town zak's inner monologue) (Zak) Well I have to say I can still smell carly's perfume and the images of her O face have been branded deep into my booze soaked grey matter branded like a cow doing the waltz slash somersault on a crisp november night in norway.........For right now I didn't have the time to think about what had gotten into her and if this was going to be a feature length fucking drama......my biggest fear was commitment.............but alas I had no time.......(Zak pulls up to a corner store and buys a six pack of beer and downs several painkillers and leans against his car staring at people walking down the street...(Zak's monologue as he sips a cold beer) (Zak) Well manhattan.......were all the rich folk eat shrimp cocktail and pay up standing whores from the north to shit on their faces and tickle midgets while wearing adult diapers and singing old mcdonald all of course on a platinum Amex card........while their wives are taking an exotic vacation to Mexico city to partake in a donkey show....at a local sizzlers.....this part of town made me sick................(Zak's phone rings Juicy is on the other end) (Zak) Juicy hey how you doing man.....what's the word on the street???(Juicy) Zak there has been another murder!!! Downtown off of 5th street and boyde.......we need your deduction skills asap man........this has got to be one of the most grizzly murder scene's I have ever seen man....makes Jeffrey dahmer look like a boy scout......(Zak jugs his beer and throws the can into the street and it it splashes over the window of a taxi cab as an indian driver yell's I can't see oh my goooooood!!!! and crashes into a wall and the cab blows up into a thousand pieces....(Zak is totally unaware as he gets into the squad car and stops at a red light that suddenly flashes blue and goes back to red) (Zak's inner monologue while driving) (Zak) I remember those grief counselors telling me I needed to be on antipsychotics to chill me down.....and keep me centered.....the fuck did they no......I got my medicine right here.....a cold beer with some oxy's and the occasional romp in the hay with Dana the stinkiest whore next to paris hilton or at least a runner up to her friend nicole............please I thought........sure that blue eyed wench that heartless strumpet.....tore my heart while beating a drum yelling khali mallllll(Indian jones reference) but that shit doesn't bother me at all fuck that shit.....i"m Zak payne and I'll be fucked silly if I let some blue eyed floozy hold the key's to my heart let alone my mind....(As Zak cough's and chokes back tears and accidentally scrapes some dudes car as he parks at a restaurant the dude yell's asshole as zak continues to drive....(Zak pull's up the crime scene it's in a rough part of southern Manhattan in a crummy dead end neighbor hood, the cops around the caution tape are playing uno sitting in a circle staring at each other coldly it's snowing lightly I push through the caution tape to the alley.....(Music chimes in) Juicy is there with a doughnut and coffee staring at the corpse......slowly slurping his coffee.) (Zak) Well Juicy how's it going man how's shit back at the office??? (Juicy) Slow till some one called this in....hey man Carly was asking about you say's you need to head back to the office asap!............(Zak's inner monologue as he squats next to the corpse) (Zak) Fucking christ just what I needed........Carly my boss my mistress......now totally obsessed with me......got dodge like a cat and a shower like O.J and the persecution...but for right now I didn't have time to think about that great ass our wonderful face of her's or her psychotic tendencies no it was time to at least get one solid clue on this would be killer) (Juicy as he squat's next to the body) (Juicy) The victims name is john Peterson white male of 60 years of age.......as you can see her just like Tokyo there's a dildo with spikes lodged into the back of his head..........but his toes are all still there...........several bruises and bite marks on the thigh's as well and a bowl of hot ramen was dumped on top his head post modem......(Juicy flips him over and gasp's at what he see's next as Zak winces and throws up and it spurts in between his fingers as he covers his mouth and one of the cops over by the tape playing Uno yell asshole don't get that shit on the evidence.....the perp's eye's are stuffed with hot dog's and his stomach is cut open and stuffed with feces with a giant triangle drawn in on the top part of the thigh.....(Juicy) God damn nigga and I thought chit Lin's wer fucking nasty poor bastard......as juicy lights up a black and mild and watches howdy doody on his phone laughing very hard slapping his knee. (Zak's inner monologue while examining the corpse) (Zak) Well here it was...another dead shit head in the worse part of town...........I was guessing much like Tokyo he had lived it rough and hard a man beaten down by the booze and the cheap whores the city lights and the hot dogs that go down easy.....and the pizza cooked to perfection in little italy and with a mcdonalds and a liquor store on every corner.....why was the killer targeting what society would deem undesirables......what does the triangle mean exactly.....? the more bodys that turned up the less I knew Dana has't called back....that's probably hard to do when you have numerous ghetto cocks stuffed in you'r mouth even with one as wide as her's...........trying to get a break in this case was like trying to fit you'r dick in a cheerio..........all we had was a pattern and types of suspects and all the same kind of areas.......ghetto's and so on.....races varied..........hmmmmmmmmmm (Zak pull's a flask and gulps it down and burps fire and wipes his lips.) (Juicy) So what do you think we got here......????? (Zak) juicy I have no idea man.......I think i'll get some shut eye and head back to the office tomorrow morning..........I'll see you there we can pull our case files and dre's case files and see what we can come up with.....(Juicy) sounds good to me mayne......(Zak then heads off into his crown vic and drives off into the cold night,Juicy squats down and flips the body over and smell's the ramen and look's to make sure no one see's and takes a handful and eats it. SAINT IVES TO BE CONTINUED!
The whiskey...it burns my throat. Sigh. Another glum day. What a sham. Today was boring anyway. Work work and work is all I say and you get money and for what!? More whiskey? Cigars? Or even a hooker...? No. Not her. Not again. She rode me so fast I lost my trilby last time. Ahh, this cigara is good. But I work again soon.
As I sit in my leather chair, sipping a glass of Whiskey in the rocks, I contemplate my life, and come to the conclusion that I am not a fucking neckbeard weeb with a fedora. M'lady.
A Long Long way to the stairs, in the bedroom after she leave me in silence, and darkness now is my neighbor, a piece of an old experimental rock music is the New echo in my mind, and i Still remember the magic Word that she spoke in my ears a whisper that never forgets....
A PI's work is never done in a noir New York Sitting alone in a dark office the moonlight creeping through the blinds in a noir world of black n gray, I just walked in from my last case, a cigarette in one hand some tiger milk on the table, my 1911 beside it And Sinatra's, Only The Lonely Know playing in the background as I type away on my mill Each place I go only the lonely go Some little small cafe The songs I know only the lonely know Each melody recalls a love that used to be The dreams I dream only the lonely dream Of lips as warm as May That hopeless scheme only the lonely scheme That soon somewhere you'll find the one that used to care And you recall each fun time Those picnics at the beach when love was new It well could be the one time A hopeless little dream like that comes true If you find love hang on to each caress And never let love go For when it's gone you'll know the loneliness The heartbreak only the lonely know And as I sat in the Bourbon suffocated shadows of my office I slipped deeper into my boozed induced thoughts when all of a sudden the horn rang, I answered a broad spoke, Said she needed to meet with me, she that a bird told her I was the best flatfoot in town I told her to meet me at my office, she said she'd be on the 6 0'clock rattler after that I hung up And sure enough there she was straight off the 6 0'Clock Now this wasn't no ordinary dame, she wore a red cocktail dress with gams that went on for miles and was draped in furs down to her hips, lips as red as rubies, hair so golden it looked like it was spun from the sun itself She wore ice around her neck and spoke with a voice that could put any fella under spell, and before I could say two words she tossed a pair of Cs on my desk That's the some serious scratch I said, money buys discretion and results she replied. I offered her a drink and she sat down and told me what was going on, a button man was after her and she needed protection and to find out who was after her and why So I holstered my bean-shooter, put on my flogger and grabbed my fedora and we set out into the night From pen to pad to pistol a PI's work is never done in a noir New York
I love all these storylines. Me, I was being humorous. But there are some good posts here that set the scene right along with the music. Perhaps a budding novelist or two?
+Perktube1 The music brings the Noir out of all of us, you just here and NEED to monologue while everything turns B&W and you know live in a dilapidated building, a barely working ceiling fan, a building across you with a neon sign and the only thing you own is your trenchcoat, your fedora and your trusty gun. We all love it.
It was a cold Setemper night, the rain falling from the sky like never before, i had to go out of that place, so i put my leather mask and my fedora hat, when i was leaving my room, someone just apeared and telled me.....(start of a comment chain)
i feel like a detective with cannot sleep cause i have a dificult case with has i cant understand in my bad, with lights of streets came into my Window make a persian shadow at my wall (sorry my bad english) Lol
Wish I could say I gave it all I got - I beat em so hard they ran away on their hinds... But this is the real world. And miracles don't happen to guys like me
(Just a small exceprt from a noir novel that I am writing) The night was quickly creeping in on the city, devouring it, shutting out all of the light, letting nothing in, murdering the dusk, causing the light to disappear throughout the entire city. The illumination was quickly slipping away and the nightfall was drawing itself into it with equal speed, overpowering the light, it being no match for the dark side. The moon was already out, shining bright, displaying itself in all of its shining glory. The streets were deserted, most people being locked away in their houses, there being nothing to do in the dim darkness. The air whistled throughout the city, freezing everything that dared to set even one toe outside. She was a cruel, harsh mistress, having no heart, showing the civilians no mercy, not caring who caught a cold, not caring who froze to death, not caring who turned into an ice sculpture. She did not care how many people died by her hand, how many people had to be buried - that was the job of the undertakers and the gravediggers. Besides, it was not like they would be able to stop her. You cannot stop a force of nature, no matter how hard you try. It will always find a way to defeat you. You will never be able to win. Keep that in mind. Unless, you decide to not take heed of my advice, then of course, go ahead, do whatever you please. Florence Parks was sat at her desk in her office. The year was 1962 and life was good. It could have been better, but...it was good enough. Florence had cases to work on, she had clients, and that was good enough for her - and plus, being a private detective, she could do whatever she wanted, herself being a freelancer, there being no Chief of Police to order her around - just a shipload of clients and crimes. But of course, that did not bother her in the slightest, it was just a mere addition to the job that she had picked for herself. Florence was dressed in a grey pinstripe suit and matching pinstripe trousers. She had a pinstripe shirt underneath and a tie hung around her neck, both pieces of clothing also as grey as cement. Her hair was long, white and seemed to shine like a light. Seeing that she was not going to get any clients at seven O'clock in the evening, Florence stood up from her desk and walked over to a cabinet, opened it up. She took out a bottle of bourbon and a short tumbler, poured herself the whiskey. She gulped down the liquor and then reached into her suit, took out a hip flask and poured the whiskey into it, topping up her drink, succumbing to her unending addiction, there being no one to help her. She closed up the flask and placed it into her suit again, stowing away the drink. Taking the bourbon bottle and the tumbler, she replaced them back into the cabinet, closed it up, hiding it away from prying eyes. She walked over to the window and looked outside, seeing the nightlife of the city - people walking around the streets, cars driving about, nothing out of the ordinary...Unfortunately. Her eyes were bent in anger and the faint light streaming through the shutters only just revealed her eyes, the rest of her face being in shadow, darkness overtaking her. She could hear her Hyde saying to her in her head, “Do it...Do it. What are you waiting for?” Submitting to her boredom, she turned, walked over to a wall hanger, taking her stone-grey fedora, placing it onto her head. She did not bother coming to work with a trench coat as the weather outside was practically tropical...well...to her anyway. Her eye caught a newspaper report that was pinned to a board and then her eyes contorted in anger even more, burning with fury. She reached into her suit and drew out a dagger, threw it at the piece of paper. It stuck itself into it, piercing through the article's main photograph. She then spun on the heel of her black, shined shoe and opened up the door of her office, made her way out of the building, in search of a mystery to solve. She stepped outside and then began to walk on the pavement, wondering if she would be able to find anything to solve or anyone to interrogate. Just one little detail. Just one suspect. Just one, little, problem. Her life needed to be filled with something, not just meaningless walks around the streets. Her footsteps echoed through the street, her heels tapping away like two halves of a coconut being smacked together. Fog covered the city like a blanket of thick smoke, seeping into her lungs like toxic fumes. Her eyes scanned everything that she saw, taking mental notes, storing them in a compartment in her brain. There was a man, taking his dog for a nightly stroll. Nothing strange about that. Very normal. Walking further, she spotted a woman in an alleyway, wearing silk stockings and a revealing dress. A prostitute. Nobody important. Just another whore. There was an old man with a scraggly, grey beard, dressed in an old, ragged coat. In his hands, covered with old, torn, fingerless gloves, he held a metal mug, begging for some spare change. Everyone walked by the tramp, no one seeming to care, not a single person even glancing at him, making him invisible to the civilians. A rich couple walked by Florence, both wearing expensive clothing. The man wearing a 40 dollar black, three-piece suit. The woman wearing a long, white dress, her hands clad in long, black, silk gloves. Seeing her, their faces expressed disgust, seeing a woman in a suit, acknowledging her as an alien, someone not normal. Florence ignored them, not caring what someone thought about her appearance. Suddenly, a man dived out of a bar and threw up onto the street, coughing and hacking, the remains of his lunch splattering itself onto the ground, the toxins from the alcohol poisoning him. Florence grimaced but walked on further, wondering if she was ever going to find anything to do. Unfortunately, there was nothing to do.
"There was a desert wind blowing that night. It was one of those hot dry Santa Anas that come down through the mountain passes and curl your hair and make your nerves jump and your skin itch. On nights like that every booze party ends in a fight. Meek little housewives feel the edge of the carving knife and study their husbands' necks. Anything can happen. You can even get a full glass of beer in a cocktail lounge." Red Wind by Raymond Chandler
When I stepped into the bar she was standing by the jukebox, ass here tits over there. I was hooked before my second foot hit the beer stained floorboards. She turned and smiled but I walked right by, you gotta get on top of these broads from day one or they roll you like a cigarette before they smoke you. I sensed her frown from my peripheral vision, but I kept going till I hit the bar. "Double on the rocks" I growled, watching her in the mirror behind the bar as she circled the room, looking for an angle. The barman watched me watching her, a drip of sweat rolling slowly down his bald head, into his eyebrow. He slid the whisky along the bar too fast hoping I would spill it but I slowed it down like a pro leaving the drink still in the glass. Then she was there beside me.
Whiskey at 10 am? "I glanced at a stranger giving alcoholic joe the business " It was Thursday and I just got a call from a client . Their father had died due to suicide but his daughter thought other wise. She told me over the phone she thought he was murdered and that she'd like to meet with me. As I go to unlock the door I hear joe yelling about how the world would be better if we were all drunk. I flipped on the lights and start making my case file. A knock comes from my office door. It was Janis Dubois, the client who believe her farther died of murder not suicude as the coroner had diagnosed. Janis exclaimed to me that her father wouldn't do such a thing and said "my farther wasn't mentally ill he was sad now and again but who isn't?" "I mean the Great Depression just ended and we're just getting into wwii" she pointed out. "He was sad about those things like every one else but I don't think he was depressed nor do I think he was capable of killing himself".
+Arsh Singh thank you for finding that mistake. maybe you'd like to go down to the station and we ca talk about some mistakes you've made.a couple of officers want to have little chat with you.
It was 10 minutes to closing when she walked in. She introduced herself as Mrs. Phillps, and took a seat in the chair across my desk. She looked very young to be married, couldn't have been older than nineteen. "What's the trouble, Ma'am?" I questioned. She hesitated a moment then said with a quiver in her voice "My husband has been missing for three days," she paused and sniffled. I noticed a black tear running down her cheek, my eyes shifted to see her emerald eyes surrounded by thick eye makeup. "I was the last to see him, Sir, and I've been too afraid to go to the police because they'll think I offed him" She hastily gave me all the details and left in a flustered hurry. I closed the office and began walking home. It was late now, the streets empty and the stores closed. I didn't see any sign of the girl. It was as if she had disappeared into thin air. I shrugged and continued on my way home.
I stepped into a diner on my way because it had started raining suddenly. I sat down at the breakfast bar and hailed the waitress. She made her way over to me with a coffee stained smile. I suddenly recognized her as the young Mrs. Phillips. I almost didn't recognize her, with her eye makeup gone and the long wavy hair she had pulled out of her face and slicked into a bun. "Fancy seeing you here," I remarked "just a coffee please." She gave me an odd look then proceeded to make fresh coffee. "Mrs. Phillips, my apologies for not being able to stay and work on your husbands case, but it got very late my dear." She quickly spun around, nearly spilling the hot coffee all over her white apron. "How the HELL do you know my name?" she whispered angrily, through clenched teeth. I stammered and came up with the explanation, "You were in my office not even 20 minutes ago in regards to your..." Before I could even finish my sentence she interrupted me in the most eerily composed voice "My apologies Sir, we are closed for the night." I began to object, but before a word escaped my lips she slung the scalding coffee at me, screaming "GET OUT!"
It's half past midnight in a smoky bar with an old rotary payphone from days gone afar There's history in these walls that nobody knows. There's more that’s gone on than the place really shows. Got this lingering feeling that I've been here before and the revolver on my ankle don't want to stay aimed at the floor. Can’t explain why I’m restless, can’t explain what I fear. Don’t know where my vest is with the rest of my gear. In comes the man with the ski mask and gun. The brick in my stomach weighs me down like a ton. I reach for the pistol like I did in my dreams. I see eyes and mouths wide but I can't hear the screams. I draw the old J-Frame and aim for the head but the lights just go out. Damn...I'm dead.
They'd never find out it was him, would they? No one knew they were talking except Tony and him. His men would walk in tomorrow and think Serenity's boyfriend did it. Serenity. He picked up the pace and sprinted the last few steps to his car. He got in and sped off. Taking a swig of his whiskey, he remembered Serenity and all she risked for him. No way he could let harm come her way. He'd kill all of Tony's men if he had to. Of course there was still the possibility that Tony had told someone about them just in case something happened. That man always had a back up plan. But would Tony really take the risk of his men finding out he was talking to a cop? All he knew was that he needed to get to Serenity as soon as possible. Then maybe they could run off together like be always dreamed of. He took another swig and stepped on it.
My dame was a lady like no other...To bad she left me. I looked at my glass of wine that I left on the counter, reminiscing about her luscious red velvet lips. Those were the days. She took of and left without a trace. What a world we live in ehh? A detective's work never ends.
1) Set vid on 1080p fullscreen
2) Turn off the lights
3) Pretend your monitor is a window you're looking through
4) Feel like a hardboiled private detective on any given night on his little office at the docks of the dark and corrupt city
Gabriel Knight 5.) Drink whiskey and smoke reds
Gabriel Knight 6) Get "cosplay" of Noir Detective with 5)
7) find a "Girlfriend" who you will sit on the table and smoking a thin cigarette.
Gabriel Knight with this playing in the background:
www.rainymood.com/
And somewhere, somewhere in the office, a small bust of a Maltese Falcon.
Sounds fantastic!
She came into my office, and she had legs that seemed to go on forever, I, however had normal legs, that stopped at my feet, but she did not
Rory Sullivan what
reminds me of Whos line
Noire Night…
Curling smoke, old cigar,
Dusty ashtray, familiar bar,
Hey barkeep, one last shot,
Nickel in the jukebox slot,
Pay the tab, slip outside,
Misty darkness, distance hide,
Footsteps echo, slowly fade,
Haze of street lamp, dark of shade,
Pitter patter, starts to rain,
Reminded of familiar pain,
Trench coat on, fedora top,
Wetly walking, pass bus stop,
Turn on Main Street, neon lights,
Street reflection, just as bright,
On the sidewalk, pass the hustle,
Skirt the park, tall trees rustle,
To the building, few yards away,
Place to work, place to stay,
Unlock door, up the stairs,
Busy janitor, unawares,
Slip in office, close the door,
peer out window, at the shore,
In the distance, city lights,
Shadows walking, in the night,
Coat and hat, hang on rack, Stretching yawn, kink in back,
Loosen tie, shoes on floor,
pour a nightcap, lock the door,
Open file, in desk lamp light,
Close it again, not tonight,
Hello desk, meet my face,
Tomorrow it's another case.
Is it yours poem? Its amazing!
+RaiX2146 Yeah, wrote it while listening to another song.
the day begins with an aching face,
its about time I start my case,
take one look down the street,
then look back down at my feet,
light a cigar with a slow pace,
even though I should make haste,
cause just one second is all it takes,
for there to be another case,
in the dim alleyways of this cruel town,
is just more time for a dead body to be found,
then to lock someone up in the pound,
its a vicious cycle don't you see?
this city will drag you down to your knee's,
but in the end I don't give up,
even though I've had enough,
take out the cigar and then I puff,
and then I start to pick up my pace,
I look up from my feet,
and then I hurry down the street,
I get to work on my new case,
the day then ends with an aching face.
eyyyy I made my own...idk if I should be too proud though
+scrawnybostonkid I think that's quite good! :-)
that was beautifull
Noire City...the kind of place your father doesn't wanna talk about. It's a city that'll make you rich, or leave you in the gutter. Can't walk down the city's Red Light district with out passing a saloon or brothel at every corner. You'll see the high rollers, the ones that drive by in old Tuckers with a dame or two at his side. Me, I'm just your average joe. I work as a private eye, doesn't pay much but it keeps me fed and living in my two room apartment. I'm walking out of Kitty's saloon after having one two many. I can still walk though, only a half mile to that run down boarding house. As I walk I fix the fedora on my head. It's drizzling, but this jacket will hold me up. All the girls that usually stand at the curb selling their "merchandise" have taken shelter at their respective brothels. Realizing that I fell in Kitty's, I shuffle around in my pockets for my cigarettes; I pull out the crushed pack. "Uuugh" I sighed. I find one still together and light it as I stumble the rest of the way. "Ugh she threw you in the gutter Johnny, never gonna make it like those hotshots." The boardinghouse was two stories, including a loft the landlord stayed in, grumpy old bastard. He meets me In front of his office, sour look as usual. "What have I told you about smoking in here boy?" I take one last puff and flick it outside. He continued, "a woman stopped by seeking an appointment" he held a piece of paper with notes scribbled on it. "Pretty young thing, Mary Waltz, just what we need, another Kraut" I took the piece of paper and found her address. I thought to myself; she lives in the high end district, what would she want with a bum like me? I've been practically useless since I was shot. She's paying big...
I fold the note containing her address and phone number and stuff it into the pocket on my leather jacket. I start towards the stairs fumbling around for my keys. "Aw Jesus you drunk too? Ya know one of these day you're gonna fuck something up Johnny" grumply mumbles the old tenant. I chuckle under my breath
"You have a good night mr. Macowski"I say back in a cheeky manner. I'll leave the old Pollack to himself, probably lost a bet at the tracks today "yeah you too. See what that old dame's up to then"
Reaching the top of the creaky stairwell I start to overhear the domestic disputes between the Prinćips, a Serbian couple that moved in a few months ago. My room is down at the end of the hall next to the attic entrance. Room 2D. The lock is just as stubborn as ever to open but never fails at making the distinctive 'clunk' when it gives way. I open the door to my musky quarters and flip on the lights, filling the room with a cloudy yellow. Undressing, I wonder about that Waltz gal, why she would have the idea of coming to me for whatever problem she has. Maybe with a stalking ex-lover or maybe even her missing cat. Hm even if it's a lost pet the money will be good. I lay down on my bed agreeing to myself that it would be best to contact her In the morning when I sober up. My dreams are restless, the pain of laying on my side where I was shot is numbed by the alcohol.
@@TheMatthess would you please get a Twitter page and write a book?📘 I would totally read it, then hawk the shit out of it.💙
I made something similar on my channel)) Would appreciate if anyone comes by to see: ruclips.net/video/jDnnx129I90/видео.html
Wow. I clicked on this video not knowing what noir is...
My eyes have been opened.
"Shit happens"....I thought to myself...As I walked on an old, Empty road...Thinking of the crooked mistakes and the fucked up things I have done...To lead to my life of sorrow..."Friends are dead, Parents are dead, Women dispise me, What I got to live for?"....As the rain picked up...And only added weight to my depression, I struck a match and lit my cuban cigar..."There was that only one girl...That really ever gave me a break from that shit, The shit I was put through"....I thought...That gal had me messed up...Dark brown hair, Big brown eyes, Perfect body, Soft lips, Smooth skin and A great soul..."All she did was be there for me"....I thought to myself silently...She was 16 and I was 13...But she was there for me..."How could have I started this violent life at such a young and innocent age?"....I walked...And contemplated the sorrowful life I've lived..."Ain't got nothin? Never claimed by a girl, Never had a chance of true happiness".....Big black bags hung under my eyes from my 32 years of insomnia...Because of the mistakes I've made...And the shit I caused, I have nobody...This walk may be my last...It may be.....I walked...And I walked...My coat was wet from the rain that feel from the sky...My Sunglasses keeping people lookin' into my eyes...I finally came to a stop in the middle of no-where...There lie the graves of everyone I ever loved or who ever was my friend....Then in the middle...Was that girl, The one girl who gave me refuge when I was 13....I step to her grave and say.....
"It's been an awful and quite shitty life I've lived sweetheart, But of all the people who could have loved me...It was you, The girl I met by accident...The girl who claimed I still had some good left in me...The girl who gave me refuge...The girl who was with me when my closest friends, Who are like brothers to me...When they died, You were there...There to help me get past the shit...And I never really got to thank you the proper way...After all the crooked and horrible things I've done...You still loved me...And for that i couldn't ever be thankful enough...It's was hard...Losing you...Losing my friends...Owning up to my sorrow...And only now do I realise...Realise something that has taken me 32 years to figure out...Something I would have never done...It's time to move on"
I said...I placed two M1911s on her grave...With the are the names of my friends and family that i lost....Wrote on one, And on the other...written My own name...And the words "Time to move on".....I then place a rose on her grave..under the pistols...And I walk away...On that same long, And empty road i came from....As the rain kept fallin'...The wind howlin'...I felt a feeling...A feeling I have never felt before, Freedom...True freedom..........
Ever since I was a young teenager, I always had a love for all things noir, I just was never able to put a name to it. Everything from slow, dark jazz music to neo-noir anime shows intrigued me. I feel like it's a whole other world where I may have once been apart of in a past life. Thank you for the video friend.
Mark A. Valdez I call it "Old World Blues."
On a dark night, in a city that knows how to keep its secrets...
got goosebumps
Crimes happened every day,every time and i was there to make justice,had a full day on the streets and it was already midnight,but someone was in my mind, i couldnt sleep,it was...
Guy Noire... private eye
*saxophone intensifies*
Name's Rick Rant. Private eye. Used to be a public eye, until the city bigwigs decided to trim their budget. Election year, see?
I remember it like yesterday...'cuz it was yesterday. I had a small pension that would keep me alive, but bored. I wondered what I would do for the rest of my life. As I walked out of the station, I detected a dime-stuck to some gum-stuck to my shoe. Let's face it, I said to my self. Being a detective was all I was good at. I peeled off the dime and stuck it in my pocket. I left the gum on my shoe as a good luck charm, a sign that things would get better. It's... stereotypical, see?
And they did. I managed to get a new lease on an old office, with old furniture. I hung my shingle on my door and proceeded to stare out the third story window. It was starting to rain. That's when 'she' walked in. I could see her blue eyes thru the smoke of my cigar. They looked cloudy. She had legs like the Pacific Coast Highway. "I need your help, Rick," she said. "My friend's missing." I was a bit surprised. "How'd you find me so fast?" I said. "I haven't even put something in the paper, let alone the phone book." I looked her up and down. "There was a trail of gum..."
I was right. It WAS a good luck charm. But I knew I needed more than luck if I was gonna take on my first private case. I would have to be sneaky. So I reached foe my sneakers, which had no gum on them, see?
That from a book or you wrote that yourself? Cause I really like it!
Doc Zipper I'm afraid it's all me.
Perktube1 And I'm afraid you're gonna have to write a book someday!
Doc Zipper ya never know.
haha I loved the trail of gum part. nice one, man
Just got finished playing LA noire and I was looking at related videos and saw this awesomeness
+Kazu Maeda Same here!
This is a story of a city...
A city of lights,
A city of music,
A city of arts,
A city... with a thousand secrets.
"It was a blonde. A blonde to make a bishop kick a hole in a stained glass window."
I sat in the Commissioner's office, his cigar smoldering in the ashtray as his stood with his back to me.
"How many times do I have to tell you, huh?" he asked rhetorically. "The case went cold. It's closed."
I couldn't except that. "C'mon, I can solve the case. I'm one of your best detectives!" I told him.
He turned and faced me. "Which is why I need you on actual solvable cases! So for the last time, no! If you persue this one more time, I'll suspend you without pay. Ya hear me?"
"Yeah, sure." I grumbled as I got up and turned away.
"'Yes, sir' or 'Yeah, sure'?" He asked sternly.
I let out a sigh. "Yes, sir." I said, making my way to the door.
"One more thing, Detective." He said as I stopped in front of the door. "That dame tying into the case. I've seen ya talkin' to her. I'd advice stopping. She ain't nothing but trouble."
I looked at the Commissioner over my shoulder. "Don't worry, she won't be a problem." I then left, closing the door behind me.
The Commissioner sat in his chair and grumbled, "It ain't her being a problem I'm worried about."
Why do i feel like a detective in his office while a beautiful women walks in?
or do offer her a light
+shaq0071 I'd just ask her in a gruff voice: "Can I help ya?"
She starts to cry. She tells you she thinks someone is stalking her..
lux bledstone Hm... You know who?
Anthony L _Ahh, Sal...._
"Same old stuff" I thought as I stepped out into the empty street. I could see my breath produce a fog under my eyes. I sighed as I light a cigarette. "These damn things will be the end of me" I thought as I buried my face into the collar of my trench coat. I threw the cigarette to the ground without even taking a puff. I wondered how late it was, surely my wife would be asleep. No need to rush home, I thought. I began to walk down old 54th street and headed up to auburn street. As I walked, the rain picked up, and I noticed the streets were empty. "Strange" I whispered to myself. I walked on and decided to stop in to the old dinner a few blocks down to get a cup of joe. To my surprise the place was empty. " what'll ya have,chuck" said the man behind the counter.
"One hot cup of joe"
There wasn't much more to say to the man, so I sat in silence until the door of the dinner opened. I didn't look back but the stranger decided to take a seat right next to mine.
"What'll ya have, chuck?
Same sentence, same greeting.
"A hot cup of joe" said the stranger.
I had finished my coffee right as the stranger had received his. As I got up to leave I felt the strange bump my side.
I didn't think much of it as he almost spit an apology at me.
"What a strange night, even the old dinner was empty."
I walked on for a good 30 minutes or so without knowing where I was going. The rain picked up again and I decided to find myself some shelter. I couldn't help but feel as though I was being watched, so I picked up the pace. I heard footsteps behind me, stopping as I stopped and starting as I started. I picked up the pace, I instinctively checked to see if I was still carrying my handgun, thank God I never leave home without it. At this moment I felt something else, something in my pocket sharing the space with my hand. It felt like a piece of paper. I decided to wait to read it in case it got wet in the ran. I finally made it to auburn street and rushed into my home where I found my key
Wasn't working.
Did my wife change the locks? No she couldn't have. She was at work all day.
As I fumbled with the key I heard footsteps, getting louder and louder. I reached for my gun in a panic only able to find the piece of paper. The gun was gone.
"Shit" I cried out loud.
I decided to unfold the paper and read what was there as I got ready to meet my pursuer. The note simply read.
"I'm taking over, jack"
As I looked up I became face to face with the stranger. It was as if I was looking in a mirror. He was,just like me.
"Sorry it had to be like this jack." He said as he readied the same gun I was carrying earlier.
I closed my eyes and realized what was happening. It seemed crazy, but wherever I was. It wasn't the same place I woke up to the day prior. This, was different.
"It'll be over soon jack, I'll do a much better job than you did."
Nice
+Lead1121 that was great can you write another plz
Lol I was walking in my local empty streets it took me 21 minits to reach home, really enjoyed dat noir stuff!
Looking back at it I should have known she was playing my heart like a 4 stringed fiddle and I was a fool to let it continue but I needed those answers.
Frankly I couldn’t tell you a word she said, her words were like sweetened honey. Within an hour we were walking my old beat, down 29th arm in arm as I was recalling old stories of my partner.
We ended up outside the Acme building just off of 31st street, that’s when she left me. Maybe the answers were here… or maybe they were still with her. I've never seen that dame since, nor have I seen my heart since that night.
Bravo, sounds intriguing to me.
This is the mix that got me into the entire noir genre, from music to film. Nearly a decade later I can’t thank you enough. I had to scroll quite a while to find it, but I’m glad I did.
Reading Spiderman noir with noir jazz perfect combination
Phelps! badge 1247
How may I help, detective?
TheTheaterThug certainly, detective!
So much win in one comment. I came to see if anyone commented that
The case that makes you, and the case that breaks you. The one you never solve, the one that keeps you up at night. The case that gnaws on your gut and ruins your marriage. The case that keeps you prepping up a bar as you relive the what-ifs, the might-have-beens, the half-leads and the half-truths. The case other cops murmur about whenever you walk past. The case you never, ever, discuss.
I liked this video like 8 years ago. Heard all this music being used in a papa meat video. I type noir music, nothing couldn't find this video. I look through my liked videos for like an hour. Then here she is. My favorite video. The rest are just pale imitation.
Rick Rant made his way through the pouring rain to a small door on the side of an unremarkable building. His account was flush from a successful case- until rent, that is. He knocked three times, then four. Two seconds later, a peephole opened. Two more seconds, a latch moving, and the door swung open. The tarnished brass sign on the door read "Old Stuff for All". Pretty risky, Rant thought. Advertising a speakeasy as an antique store. But then again, the cops were wising up to the "ice cream parlors" that had sprung up all too quickly around town. But this place, this familiar hole in the wall, had some history, some legitimacy. Hey, it even had some antiques sitting around on shelves. All the barkeep had to do was hide a few bottles of the good stuff under the counter. Rick greeted Joe as he sat down on the leather barstool, thankful for a dry seat. "What's your poison, Rick? ", he said in a low, friendly voice. "Just a shot of Bourbon, Joe; maybe a few more after that. " A few moments later, he was driving the chill out of his bones with the sauce. Rick looked around. The place was lonely, this time of night, but still busy. every now and then, someone would come in, order a drink, leave a note on the bulletin board, then leave. It was huge, on the opposite wall. Joe called it his "Comment Section". People would leave all sorts of messages, stories, criticisms, you name it. Joe said some people didn't even come in to leave a note. The well-to-do's living in the upper floors of the building received their ordered hootch through a secret dumb waiter, and their money and their notes came back through a pneumatic tube system installed years ago. Joe would put the dough in the register, then tack up his high-paying customers' comments onto the board. Rick looked at the notes. Most were notes of thanks for Joe's establishment, some were questions, others actual detective stories. Rick guessed the patrons passing through now and then felt inspired by the noir records Joe played on his electrified gramophone. And every table had a notepad and pen and ink bottle. Rick decided to put his two cents worth up there as well, before heading out on a long, wet walk home. Joe let him borrow his favorite Mont Blanc to do the honors. "Thanx, Joe. You're a pal." Joe waved him off. Then Rick Rant, private eye, buttoned up and went out side. On his way home he stepped on a piece of gum. Gonna get a case tomorrow, he just knew it.
I like reading Fatale to this a good 1950s detective graphic novel with a little twist of scifi. With a leather scented or redwood candle and some Jack and coke during the late evenings. Really sets the mood because I fall asleep when I read in complete silence.
I was sitting on my luxurious black leather chair, contemplating my dark and gloomy office, whilst I had a lit ciggarette in my hand, and a good old whisky in the other one. Contemplating... the sunlight was trying to pierce my curtains behind. I saw around my office while I was waiting for her... my clock, marking the same hour. 7:45 PM. My trenchcoat and fedora in a coat stand. My 1911 gun, ready to ignite. and my door, with the classical and unforgettable ''Dean Miller, Private Eye''. ahhh. I saw shadows pass by the door, I was just there... sitting, waiting for her, and then, she came in, Maria Corielli, Typical Italo-american girl; red dress, a brunette long hair and a smooth and tanned skin, so pretty. We had something, way before the ''incident'' at the Corielli's lounge. what happened, you wonder? Oh well, you see, the father and brother of Maria, Armando Corielli and Bruno Corielli, were maffiosos serving for their own family. As always, Bruno was the head of the family, being the father and all that crap... And Armando was Bruno's right hand man. One night, Maria invited me to the Corielli lounge. I was trying to catch Bruno and Armando a long time, let me tell you that, but Maria didnt knew, she knew I was a private investigator, but not that I intended to arrest her father and brother. Anyways, I was in one of the bar's in the lounge, drinking my favorite whisky, and talking to Maria, of course. But suddendly, not one, not two, nor even fucking three. FOUR armed men entered the lounge, obviously a rival family, for a second I thought they were going to talk so they could stop harrassing each other, but as I saw Vinnie Capuccio entering, I knew this was going to be a rough night. Vinnie entered, and he saw Bruno, who was also in a bit of a commotion by seeing Vinnie, he, naturally, with his relaxed aura, approached Bruno and said ''My amigo, this was a bad night to host a party, see you later'', and as soon as he left the building, the four caporegime thugs opened fire, catching Bruno without warning and killing him instantly. Armando took cover behind the bar but soon was caught amid the fire. I took Maria to cover upstairs and hid from those assholes, I had to cover her ears, she hadnt heard a gun in her entire life, seen them? yes. Heard them? No. She was terrified, frozen in her own thoughts. Minutes passed, and the gunfire ceased... We had a very horrible surprise... Bruno, Armando, and half of the Corielli family were dead. lying on the floor, the blood washing those white marble floors. Maria snapped, and she was broken, so much, not only we ceased contact for many years, but also she never trusted anyone. Except today, in my office, in the night, 7:45 PM to be exact. she sat in front of my, and with her angelical voice said.
''Dean... I've found my family's murderer... please, help me get revenge''.
Such sweet voice... yet so much harshness and violence in its inside...
''Marie, as much as I would like to help, I need permission of the boss to organize an attack on the Capuccios, I'm sorry.''
She tried not to cry. But instead, to get angry at me, so she could ''persuade'' me into that. But as much as she tried, she couldnt make it, we may have been something, Rose of mine. But I'm not that easy...
She left, leaving a note in my desk, she slammed the door and left with such an anger and sadness, I doubt she would make it back without shearing a tear along the way...
... Now you must be wondering what kind of things had the note... Well... That's an story for another time.
Juliansnake1000 10/10 copypasta
Juliansnake1000 This is kinda terrible actually lol.
themarcshark Relax, I'm open to any kind of critic, so I can improve in the future :)
Sorry, didn't mean to sound like a dick lol. It's not like I could do any better (not that I've tried, but I'm assuming I can't out of a lack of experience), but bad noir writing just really makes me cringe haha
themarcshark Hahaha no worries, could you give me some tips, please? I could really use some help... I've been with the ''Noir'' theme a lot of time but writing a book is... hard... (I havent even started lol)
Dances and Dames , my kind of observing from a distance ...music
It was raining hard the night that everything changed. It was half past eight and I was taking a drag on my bottle of Jack, with a lit cigar between my fingers, when the dame walked in to my small office and shut the door, blinds rapping against the window that read "Henry Hubert, PI."
The downpour continued to tattoo the tin roof as her heels clicked across the creaky floor and she took a seat in the sagging armchair opposite mine. I pulled down the brim of my fedora and said, in a gruff voice, "How d'ya do, m'lady?"
+PrimaPrime Productions
Reading that was worth every single word.
She had legs that didn't stop, they went up and up, caught on the ceiling fan, spun out the window and ricocheted across the city, mugging men of their hearts as they went. No one filed a report. I sure as hell wouldn't.
This is my idea for a script: A young, private detective must uncover the mystery surrounding the disappearance of a girl from his past whom he had a crush on, and believes that she may have been kidnapped by an underground society thought to have gone extinct.
Yeap credit to the video maker, excellent image.
Thank you!
"The dame's scream hit an octave, usually reserved for calling dogs, but it meant I had a case, and the sound of greenbacks slapping against my palm is music to MY ears any day. After all, I'm not an opera critic. I'm a private eye.
"I keep two magnums in my desk. One's a gun, and I keep it loaded. The other's a bottle, and it keep ME loaded. I'm Tracer Bullet. I'm a professional snoop.
"It's a tough job, but then, I'm a tough guy. Some people don't like an audience when they work. Enough of them have told me so with blunt instruments that I'm a phrenologist's dream come true.
"Snooping pays the bills, though. Especially Bill, my bookie, and Bill, my probation officer.
"So when a tall brunette opened my door with a case for me, my heart did a few calisthenics and I took the job.
Reading Mr.Mercedes by S.King while listening to this...
It was a rainy night at Clock Town. Milk Bar. The last delivery took about a 2 hour ride protecting the girl from the damn Gorman Brothers. What was her name? Romani...Malon? My mind is confused. Being warped to the past several times probably fucks with your brain. And so I'm here... 3 days to save the world? Give me 30. Nevermind. It doesn't matter anymore. The curse was casted. I have met a terrible fate.
waking up at 11 o clock in the morning with a pounding headache and bruises on my left eye. Only a blurred image of her dress as red as the motel neon sign across the road lingers in the back of my head. Her red lips sucking the last bit of juice out of that cigarette bud she's been holding the last 15 minutes. The soft wind of jazz in my ears and finally the gunshot that followed. Smoking kills. I know I should leave it alone but frankly that just isn't my style. It's my case now, retired or not, I don't think I'll get out clean on this. It's time to shake things up one last time.
Very nice, interested to hear more.
window blinds half open sipping bourbon from a shooter at a desk in front of a typewriter
Can someone recommend me a similar list? The other noir playlists just seem a lot more bar jazzy and don't have the dark mood this list has
"Los Angeles. The City of Angels the locals say. But at night, there are no angels. It was 11pm and I was closing up shop. Some fools were about to harm this young woman in an alley. Of course, I gave a damn and decided to step in. I gave them a good beating and they fled. This woman I saved, she was very attractive, on her way home from a lounge she was working, she thanked me and advised me to drop by on Saturday night. I couldn't refuse, plus I needed a drink and they had good music."
"Saturday night came around the corner, It was a quiet night at my place. Nothing to do but drink some scotch unfortunately I ran out so I'd decided to take the lovely woman's advice and head to the lounge. I sat at the bar, ordered a scotch and there she was. She was very attractive, in a red dress and heels, turns out she was a singer. She performed a song and her voice was enchanting. After the song, she joined me for a drink. Got to talking and she thanked me again for the other night. After two or three drinks, we decided to call a night and went back to my place, we've got to talking for a little bit and then we made love. I'd never felt so much relaxed and finally felt calm."
It was cool night, plugging away on my keyboard, beating down dragons and orcs, typical night in all respects. A sip hear and there out of my flask. Coke and rum, 1950. Smooth. Still in my underwear, haven't bothered to shower yet. I'd get to eventually. Focus on picking targets and kiting a healer around.
10:35… I, Rick Rant, was in my car, on the way out to that vacant building on the docks, with the single streetlight playing with shadows on the main door. I pulled to the far side to meet Guido, my source for all things on the street. But Guido wasn't there. That could only mean two things: either Guido was made, or something major was going down, and he had to be there to see it. Guido had a sixth sense about these things. How else could he get to be the best snitch on this side of the river? It all meant one thing: I shouldn't be here. I should be at my hole of an apartment, waiting by my phone for a tip. Shortly after 11:10, I turned my car around and headed back up the road, back to home, and hopefully back to a belated scoop from my currently misplaced source. C'mon, Guido, come through for me baby.
As I look off to the docs, I realize my life is a big joke. 5 unsolved murders in 5 weeks. I was supposed to be Detective X, private eye, and all that got me is , 5 sad families, and one angry police chief. I just need another lead case just to get my mind off these unsolved murders. Just another raining evening in New York, death, and savagery. Animals. Animals.
It's a cold dark day,
Here in dream land...
JonTron c:
Having my pug Chandler sleeping on my knees and reading Poirot adventures while listening to this...yeah that's the life ;-)
6:17 reminds me of Blue's Clues.
I was just about to comment that! lol!
I want to play L.A Noire again...
Tortuga... the perfect place to be happy after a good treasure hunt. Not for me. The place was empty like never before. I can not say it's because I failed. Afterall, I never fail. The rise of Davy Jones, William's death. No... not my fault. Or that was the way my brain found to keep me away from the truth. I would never forgive me. More rum. More rum...
It was a rainy day in October. I was between jobs and had nothing else better to do, so I pulled my bottle of Rye out of my bottom drawer and blew the dust and other things I don’t want to think about out of my glass. I was alone, Gladys had left in a huff; we had another one of our arguments, I am not sure what it was about and didn’t care. She was the daughter of my old partner and I had known her since she had been running around the office in pigtails. That was back when we were a respectable Agency and had more work than we had time for. When he was killed I crawled into a bottle and tried to die too. Gladys had been trying to save me ever since. I think she had it bad for me, but I wasn’t buying. If she was going to ruin her life, there were plenty of mooks out there that she had the choice of. I thought of her as my little sister.
My office was in one of those buildings you see in a formerly fancy part of town that was on its way to being condemned. There was only one other fool who had an office here. He was one of those strange types that do accounting or something like that. I never took enough interest to find out.
I poured a glass and put my feet up on the desk, I looked out the window but it was so dirty all that came through was a dim light. I made not to myself to have the janitor clean it. That got me laughing; there hadn’t been a janitor here in decades. The owner of the joint was just waiting for it to collapse so he could put up fancy apartments.
There wasn’t much to see even if I could look out my window. Just more of the same, run down buildings with the dregs of society squatting in them. Personally I liked having an office here, if someone was going to take the time to come here, they had a real problem that was worth taking on.
I filled my third glass and thought about closing up shop. There was a cheap single bed in what I like to call the file room. I had spent quite a few nights on it.
Though my alcoholic haze I heard the tap of heels in the hallway. She had to be coming here, if who ever it was wanted to see the accountant, she would have taken the stairs up to the next floor. I figured it was Gladys coming back for round two. I saw her shadow on the frosted glass of the office door. She hesitated which gave me time to stash the bottle and glass and sit up straight.
The door opened and all I could see was legs, the kind of legs that made a guy leave his wife and children for. Luckily I had neither, that I new about, so I enjoyed the view. She was tall, and there was red hair under that big black hat. Redheads had always been my weakness.
She stopped in front of my desk and in a husky voice asked, “Are you West?”
I nodded and asked, “So what’s a doll like you doing in this neck of the woods?”
She took the chair in front of my desk and crossed those long legs. She pulled out a gold cigarette case and took one out and tapped it on the corner of my desk and then put it in her rose colored lips. Before I could grab a matchbook, she licked a lighter and lit it.
She took in a long draw and then said, “I think someone is trying to kill me.”
It was chilling, watching the thirsty streets of Nuevo Laredo drink her blood so eagerly. Face down in the gutters she seeped into the drain. Another one, I scratched a tally into my notebook. I slowly exhaled a cloud of smoke, illuminated by the muddy yellow street light the smoke wafted along the wall I leaned against. In my pocket a stolen police radio signalled their arrival. It was time to go. I walked up beside the girl and placed a cigarette in her mouth. Lighting it I briefly watched the smoke waft over her gunshot wound and dissolve into the night. The police would know I was here. They know, I could help them.
It was a rainy night. The Prancing Pony they called the bar. The golden ring pressuring against my chest like never before. The thing is getting harder and harder to carry day after day. Wondering how Bilbo stayed with it for so long time. The old mage was right, afterall: dark magic flows trough it's lines "Ash nazg durbatulûk..." I stopped reading it. It made zero fucking sense to me. I'm tired and just want to sleep. Wondering where the damn Strider is?
wonderful music,so dark, thx 4 share
Didn't realize the picture was actually a video! Nice detail! You got a like.
The nostalgia burns as lit as the butt of my cigarette
Very Twin Peakish.
"...his dad was gay... that's why I think he killed her and her boyfriend that faithful night." My mother hung up the phone.
Where is this video taken? it's wonderful..:))
It`s been 3 years and I still regularly revisit this video.I am a big jazz fan, but there is somthing special about these tracks.So nostalgic, so relaxing.Amazing music.
Here are my takes on some of my favs here...
Night on the docks: Detective stares out the window at the lights of the docks playing upon the water adjacent to his office. He's just paid his bills thanks to a successful case and a grateful and wealthy debutante reunited with her favorite necklace. He has time to reflect on that, and on his failure keeping his marriage together, the daughter he tries to improve relations with, ... what is his goal, what is his end? But the music and water reflections soothe him.
Basswalker: Detective follows his charge thru lighted streets, busy streets, lonely streets... and alleyways. Always silent, knowing when to duck in a shadow, not noticed by the targeted henchman, who is in no hurry. He'll follow, lay low, discover his man's contacts. Just keep it cool, keep it quiet...
Cool Vibes: Detective has been noticed by one of the dames in his suspect's charge. She's invited him to an upscale lounge, a dive with more class than he's used to. Does she recognize him? Will she rat him out? Only time will tell, as she buys the first round. But he still has too much gentleman in him to let that continue. Next few rounds are on him, and he starts to dig for info. She's relaxed, enjoying this game, but he's got to get names, numbers, addresses, before his bar tab outgrows his rent money.
But he thinks, maybe if he lets go of his chivalry long enough, he might succeed. He'll let her buy the drinks for a while. Just relax, enjoy her company, order more drinks. She's using her boss's money, after all. She needs more drinks. Because the more she drinks, the more she talks, the more she whispers, in his ear. With the right amount of high class booze, she may just sing the tune he wants to hear.
Perktube1
More plz!!!
thank you, nice music to read
There has been an awakening.... have you felt it?
In a dark corner of club desi I sat smoking a cig listening to the bass pound on my already aching head. Last night I got in a bar fight with. Two goons one bashed me over the head with s chair . I leave my booth and make my way to the counter when all of a sudden this chick comes out of no where she offered to buy me a drink , then she asked me what I do for a living. After a few scotches I loosened up and spilled the beans. I told her I was a detective and what my current case was. 2 drinks later I was passed out...
Listening to this while reading any books from James Ellroy is best experience
Had this on while writing a detective story. Thank for the inspiration.
10:28 car comes in at bottom left
11:00 dissapears on the dark
11:15 appears from the dark and goes out.
14:05 another car goes out from the dark.
Real thing?
There's are a corrupt cop who was waiting for this guy came in with the drugs. He came, then, the cop goes out, looking like it was the drug dealer. Minutes later, the drug dealer goes out. At that time, nobody was looking anymore.
This city... full of crimes and corrupted cops.
Well, i'm going to watch true detective season 2 now
So it was cold night. The rain dropped heavily on old neon sing, steaming, turning into a mild mist. "Hank Valentine Detective Agency" the inscripton said. Through the doors there was my little, dirty enough to be cosy, office. It smelled like boring sleepless nights and tabacco. I was laying on my chair with last cigarrete from my pack in one hand and in a gun in the other. Back in the days when i was in glory, the youngest luitenant, best cop, i felt something. Now i couldn;t get my eyes close because of this fucking case. That case took my heart from me. I was a hero who put the serial killer in belts. But one thing. He wasn't him. the real murderer got away and i can't look into my own eyes no more. After my third divorce i lost it. Even if im doing the one and only thing im good at, being the private eye is all i know, its just too much. It's not the world for people like me. I put two bullets in a chamber, and i spin it. I look through the window on this black city night full of bad people. I soon be gone. I pull the trigger. Unfortunately not yet...
who the f*** would dislike this?
Great !! 🍾🥂🍷🍸🍹
Collateral
Where can I find moar??? It is exactly what I want in my life.
Thank you for this music.
watch?v=6Zl5vpy__dQ
I listen to this while reading Watchmen.
It looked like rain, so I got up to close the window. That guy on the sidewalk was still playing his sax.
He was good, but I had heard enough for one day.
When I turned back to my desk, she was already standing in front of it.
"Can I help you?", I said.
"No, Mr. Starker, I'm here to help you.", she whispered. "You placed a Want Ad for a secretary in today's paper. I'd like to apply for the position."
"Cookie, you can have any position you want." I replied, "You're hired as of now. And from now on, call me Mick."
"Oh, thank you Mr, uh, Mick." she squealed, "You don't know how happy this makes me."
"Sit down, sugar, pour yourself a drink. We've got all night to get to know each other. And you don't know how happy this'll make me!", I said as I removed my tie.
That's when the phone rang. That's when it all started to go sideways.
Who could've figured that she'd wind up dead, and I'd be sitting in a jail cell talking to you?
Murder on saint Ives continued......(Zak shortly after his encounter with Carly get's into a beat up crown vic to listen to radio call's and think about the case.........music doesn't play till stated. (Zak's monologue as he drives around midtown manhattan night time dressed in tan khaki's a white collared shirt smeared with lipstick....a green slurpee and a cigarette dangling from his mouth with a long leather jacket and a black Tie. (Zak as he drives with no hands and pour's from his flask into the slurpee and several people go under the car with several bumps Zak doesn't notice as someone in the rear view rushes over and screams OH MY GOD MISTER ARE YOU OK.....and the dude next to him say's fuck this grandpa lets take his wallet!!!!) (Zak as he sips his slurpee and drives around mid town zak's inner monologue) (Zak) Well I have to say I can still smell carly's perfume and the images of her O face have been branded deep into my booze soaked grey matter branded like a cow doing the waltz slash somersault on a crisp november night in norway.........For right now I didn't have the time to think about what had gotten into her and if this was going to be a feature length fucking drama......my biggest fear was commitment.............but alas I had no time.......(Zak pulls up to a corner store and buys a six pack of beer and downs several painkillers and leans against his car staring at people walking down the street...(Zak's monologue as he sips a cold beer) (Zak) Well manhattan.......were all the rich folk eat shrimp cocktail and pay up standing whores from the north to shit on their faces and tickle midgets while wearing adult diapers and singing old mcdonald all of course on a platinum Amex card........while their wives are taking an exotic vacation to Mexico city to partake in a donkey show....at a local sizzlers.....this part of town made me sick................(Zak's phone rings Juicy is on the other end) (Zak) Juicy hey how you doing man.....what's the word on the street???(Juicy) Zak there has been another murder!!! Downtown off of 5th street and boyde.......we need your deduction skills asap man........this has got to be one of the most grizzly murder scene's I have ever seen man....makes Jeffrey dahmer look like a boy scout......(Zak jugs his beer and throws the can into the street and it it splashes over the window of a taxi cab as an indian driver yell's I can't see oh my goooooood!!!! and crashes into a wall and the cab blows up into a thousand pieces....(Zak is totally unaware as he gets into the squad car and stops at a red light that suddenly flashes blue and goes back to red) (Zak's inner monologue while driving) (Zak) I remember those grief counselors telling me I needed to be on antipsychotics to chill me down.....and keep me centered.....the fuck did they no......I got my medicine right here.....a cold beer with some oxy's and the occasional romp in the hay with Dana the stinkiest whore next to paris hilton or at least a runner up to her friend nicole............please I thought........sure that blue eyed wench that heartless strumpet.....tore my heart while beating a drum yelling khali mallllll(Indian jones reference) but that shit doesn't bother me at all fuck that shit.....i"m Zak payne and I'll be fucked silly if I let some blue eyed floozy hold the key's to my heart let alone my mind....(As Zak cough's and chokes back tears and accidentally scrapes some dudes car as he parks at a restaurant the dude yell's asshole as zak continues to drive....(Zak pull's up the crime scene it's in a rough part of southern Manhattan in a crummy dead end neighbor hood, the cops around the caution tape are playing uno sitting in a circle staring at each other coldly it's snowing lightly I push through the caution tape to the alley.....(Music chimes in) Juicy is there with a doughnut and coffee staring at the corpse......slowly slurping his coffee.) (Zak) Well Juicy how's it going man how's shit back at the office??? (Juicy) Slow till some one called this in....hey man Carly was asking about you say's you need to head back to the office asap!............(Zak's inner monologue as he squats next to the corpse) (Zak) Fucking christ just what I needed........Carly my boss my mistress......now totally obsessed with me......got dodge like a cat and a shower like O.J and the persecution...but for right now I didn't have time to think about that great ass our wonderful face of her's or her psychotic tendencies no it was time to at least get one solid clue on this would be killer) (Juicy as he squat's next to the body) (Juicy) The victims name is john Peterson white male of 60 years of age.......as you can see her just like Tokyo there's a dildo with spikes lodged into the back of his head..........but his toes are all still there...........several bruises and bite marks on the thigh's as well and a bowl of hot ramen was dumped on top his head post modem......(Juicy flips him over and gasp's at what he see's next as Zak winces and throws up and it spurts in between his fingers as he covers his mouth and one of the cops over by the tape playing Uno yell asshole don't get that shit on the evidence.....the perp's eye's are stuffed with hot dog's and his stomach is cut open and stuffed with feces with a giant triangle drawn in on the top part of the thigh.....(Juicy) God damn nigga and I thought chit Lin's wer fucking nasty poor bastard......as juicy lights up a black and mild and watches howdy doody on his phone laughing very hard slapping his knee. (Zak's inner monologue while examining the corpse) (Zak) Well here it was...another dead shit head in the worse part of town...........I was guessing much like Tokyo he had lived it rough and hard a man beaten down by the booze and the cheap whores the city lights and the hot dogs that go down easy.....and the pizza cooked to perfection in little italy and with a mcdonalds and a liquor store on every corner.....why was the killer targeting what society would deem undesirables......what does the triangle mean exactly.....? the more bodys that turned up the less I knew Dana has't called back....that's probably hard to do when you have numerous ghetto cocks stuffed in you'r mouth even with one as wide as her's...........trying to get a break in this case was like trying to fit you'r dick in a cheerio..........all we had was a pattern and types of suspects and all the same kind of areas.......ghetto's and so on.....races varied..........hmmmmmmmmmm (Zak pull's a flask and gulps it down and burps fire and wipes his lips.) (Juicy) So what do you think we got here......????? (Zak) juicy I have no idea man.......I think i'll get some shut eye and head back to the office tomorrow morning..........I'll see you there we can pull our case files and dre's case files and see what we can come up with.....(Juicy) sounds good to me mayne......(Zak then heads off into his crown vic and drives off into the cold night,Juicy squats down and flips the body over and smell's the ramen and look's to make sure no one see's and takes a handful and eats it. SAINT IVES TO BE CONTINUED!
The whiskey...it burns my throat. Sigh. Another glum day. What a sham. Today was boring anyway. Work work and work is all I say and you get money and for what!? More whiskey? Cigars? Or even a hooker...? No. Not her. Not again. She rode me so fast I lost my trilby last time. Ahh, this cigara is good. But I work again soon.
6:16 We need our handy dandy notebook.
As I sit in my leather chair, sipping a glass of Whiskey in the rocks, I contemplate my life, and come to the conclusion that I am not a fucking neckbeard weeb with a fedora. M'lady.
A Long Long way to the stairs, in the bedroom after she leave me in silence, and darkness now is my neighbor, a piece of an old experimental rock music is the New echo in my mind, and i Still remember the magic Word that she spoke in my ears a whisper that never forgets....
A PI's work is never done in a noir New York
Sitting alone in a dark office the moonlight creeping through the blinds in a noir world of black n gray,
I just walked in from my last case, a cigarette in one hand some tiger milk on the table, my 1911 beside it
And Sinatra's, Only The Lonely Know playing in the background as I type away on my mill
Each place I go only the lonely go
Some little small cafe
The songs I know only the lonely know
Each melody recalls a love that used to be
The dreams I dream only the lonely dream
Of lips as warm as May
That hopeless scheme only the lonely scheme
That soon somewhere you'll find the one that used to care
And you recall each fun time
Those picnics at the beach when love was new
It well could be the one time
A hopeless little dream like that comes true
If you find love hang on to each caress
And never let love go
For when it's gone you'll know the loneliness
The heartbreak only the lonely know
And as I sat in the Bourbon suffocated shadows of my office I slipped deeper into my boozed induced thoughts when all of a sudden the horn rang, I answered a broad spoke,
Said she needed to meet with me, she that a bird told her I was the best flatfoot in town I told her to meet me at my office, she said she'd be on the 6 0'clock rattler after that I hung up
And sure enough there she was straight off the 6 0'Clock
Now this wasn't no ordinary dame, she wore a red cocktail dress with gams that went on for miles and was draped in furs down to her hips, lips as red as rubies, hair so golden it looked like it was spun from the sun itself
She wore ice around her neck and spoke with a voice that could put any fella under spell, and before I could say two words she tossed a pair of Cs on my desk
That's the some serious scratch I said, money buys discretion and results she replied.
I offered her a drink and she sat down and told me what was going on, a button man was after her and she needed protection and to find out who was after her and why
So I holstered my bean-shooter, put on my flogger and grabbed my fedora and we set out into the night
From pen to pad to pistol a PI's work is never done in a noir New York
I love all these storylines. Me, I was being humorous. But there are some good posts here that set the scene right along with the music. Perhaps a budding novelist or two?
+Perktube1 The music brings the Noir out of all of us, you just here and NEED to monologue while everything turns B&W and you know live in a dilapidated building, a barely working ceiling fan, a building across you with a neon sign and the only thing you own is your trenchcoat, your fedora and your trusty gun. We all love it.
It was a cold Setemper night, the rain falling from the sky like never before, i had to go out of that place, so i put my leather mask and my fedora hat, when i was leaving my room, someone just apeared and telled me.....(start of a comment chain)
Of all the pubs in all the world. . . she just had to walk into mine.
i feel like a detective with cannot sleep cause i have a dificult case with has i cant understand in my bad, with lights of streets came into my Window make a persian shadow at my wall (sorry my bad english) Lol
* reads title *
Me: CAT NOIR
Wish I could say I gave it all I got - I beat em so hard they ran away on their hinds... But this is the real world. And miracles don't happen to guys like me
I played this song while wondering: Can Ghouls From Tokyo Ghoul go through puberty?
twin peaks soundtrack
(Just a small exceprt from a noir novel that I am writing)
The night was quickly creeping in on the city, devouring it, shutting out all of the light, letting nothing in, murdering the dusk, causing the light to disappear throughout the entire city. The illumination was quickly slipping away and the nightfall was drawing itself into it with equal speed, overpowering the light, it being no match for the dark side. The moon was already out, shining bright, displaying itself in all of its shining glory. The streets were deserted, most people being locked away in their houses, there being nothing to do in the dim darkness. The air whistled throughout the city, freezing everything that dared to set even one toe outside. She was a cruel, harsh mistress, having no heart, showing the civilians no mercy, not caring who caught a cold, not caring who froze to death, not caring who turned into an ice sculpture. She did not care how many people died by her hand, how many people had to be buried - that was the job of the undertakers and the gravediggers. Besides, it was not like they would be able to stop her. You cannot stop a force of nature, no matter how hard you try. It will always find a way to defeat you. You will never be able to win. Keep that in mind. Unless, you decide to not take heed of my advice, then of course, go ahead, do whatever you please.
Florence Parks was sat at her desk in her office. The year was 1962 and life was good. It could have been better, but...it was good enough. Florence had cases to work on, she had clients, and that was good enough for her - and plus, being a private detective, she could do whatever she wanted, herself being a freelancer, there being no Chief of Police to order her around - just a shipload of clients and crimes. But of course, that did not bother her in the slightest, it was just a mere addition to the job that she had picked for herself. Florence was dressed in a grey pinstripe suit and matching pinstripe trousers. She had a pinstripe shirt underneath and a tie hung around her neck, both pieces of clothing also as grey as cement. Her hair was long, white and seemed to shine like a light. Seeing that she was not going to get any clients at seven O'clock in the evening, Florence stood up from her desk and walked over to a cabinet, opened it up. She took out a bottle of bourbon and a short tumbler, poured herself the whiskey. She gulped down the liquor and then reached into her suit, took out a hip flask and poured the whiskey into it, topping up her drink, succumbing to her unending addiction, there being no one to help her. She closed up the flask and placed it into her suit again, stowing away the drink. Taking the bourbon bottle and the tumbler, she replaced them back into the cabinet, closed it up, hiding it away from prying eyes.
She walked over to the window and looked outside, seeing the nightlife of the city - people walking around the streets, cars driving about, nothing out of the ordinary...Unfortunately. Her eyes were bent in anger and the faint light streaming through the shutters only just revealed her eyes, the rest of her face being in shadow, darkness overtaking her. She could hear her Hyde saying to her in her head, “Do it...Do it. What are you waiting for?” Submitting to her boredom, she turned, walked over to a wall hanger, taking her stone-grey fedora, placing it onto her head. She did not bother coming to work with a trench coat as the weather outside was practically tropical...well...to her anyway. Her eye caught a newspaper report that was pinned to a board and then her eyes contorted in anger even more, burning with fury. She reached into her suit and drew out a dagger, threw it at the piece of paper. It stuck itself into it, piercing through the article's main photograph. She then spun on the heel of her black, shined shoe and opened up the door of her office, made her way out of the building, in search of a mystery to solve.
She stepped outside and then began to walk on the pavement, wondering if she would be able to find anything to solve or anyone to interrogate. Just one little detail. Just one suspect. Just one, little, problem. Her life needed to be filled with something, not just meaningless walks around the streets. Her footsteps echoed through the street, her heels tapping away like two halves of a coconut being smacked together. Fog covered the city like a blanket of thick smoke, seeping into her lungs like toxic fumes. Her eyes scanned everything that she saw, taking mental notes, storing them in a compartment in her brain. There was a man, taking his dog for a nightly stroll. Nothing strange about that. Very normal. Walking further, she spotted a woman in an alleyway, wearing silk stockings and a revealing dress. A prostitute. Nobody important. Just another whore. There was an old man with a scraggly, grey beard, dressed in an old, ragged coat. In his hands, covered with old, torn, fingerless gloves, he held a metal mug, begging for some spare change. Everyone walked by the tramp, no one seeming to care, not a single person even glancing at him, making him invisible to the civilians.
A rich couple walked by Florence, both wearing expensive clothing. The man wearing a 40 dollar black, three-piece suit. The woman wearing a long, white dress, her hands clad in long, black, silk gloves. Seeing her, their faces expressed disgust, seeing a woman in a suit, acknowledging her as an alien, someone not normal. Florence ignored them, not caring what someone thought about her appearance. Suddenly, a man dived out of a bar and threw up onto the street, coughing and hacking, the remains of his lunch splattering itself onto the ground, the toxins from the alcohol poisoning him. Florence grimaced but walked on further, wondering if she was ever going to find anything to do. Unfortunately, there was nothing to do.
FYI, this is just HALF of the introduction
12:31 I feel like following a suspect down a dark alley
After a long day in the office I decided to pour myself some whiskey and light up a cigar . . .
More More more more more more pls pls pls pls pls pls !!!!!!!!!
The place, where is ti? Thanks!
+oldstuff4all la spezia port! i have been there many times with the vessel. what a nice place
"There was a desert wind blowing that night. It was one of those hot dry Santa Anas that come down through the mountain passes and curl your hair and make your nerves jump and your skin itch. On nights like that every booze party ends in a fight. Meek little housewives feel the edge of the carving knife and study their husbands' necks. Anything can happen. You can even get a full glass of beer in a cocktail lounge." Red Wind by Raymond Chandler
When I stepped into the bar she was standing by the jukebox, ass here tits over there. I was hooked before my second foot hit the beer stained floorboards. She turned and smiled but I walked right by, you gotta get on top of these broads from day one or they roll you like a cigarette before they smoke you. I sensed her frown from my peripheral vision, but I kept going till I hit the bar.
"Double on the rocks" I growled, watching her in the mirror behind the bar as she circled the room, looking for an angle.
The barman watched me watching her, a drip of sweat rolling slowly down his bald head, into his eyebrow. He slid the whisky along the bar too fast hoping I would spill it but I slowed it down like a pro leaving the drink still in the glass.
Then she was there beside me.
Anyone else come here from Frobisher's part of the Children of Time book?
Very nice! Thanx for sharing
Sin City brought me here
Reading Will Christopher Baer with this on in the background.
Przednia muzyczka.
Whiskey at 10 am? "I glanced at a stranger giving alcoholic joe the business " It was Thursday and I just got a call from a client . Their father had died due to suicide but his daughter thought other wise. She told me over the phone she thought he was murdered and that she'd like to meet with me.
As I go to unlock the door I hear joe yelling about how the world would be better if we were all drunk. I flipped on the lights and start making my case file. A knock comes from my office door. It was Janis Dubois, the client who believe her farther died of murder not suicude as the coroner had diagnosed.
Janis exclaimed to me that her father wouldn't do such a thing and said "my farther wasn't mentally ill he was sad now and again but who isn't?" "I mean the Great Depression just ended and we're just getting into wwii" she pointed out. "He was sad about those things like every one else but I don't think he was depressed nor do I think he was capable of killing himself".
Meat with me
+Arsh Singh thank you for finding that mistake. maybe you'd like to go down to the station and we ca talk about some mistakes you've made.a couple of officers want to have little chat with you.
lux bledstone aww hell no, not again
Serene, yet an undercurrent of fear or apprehension..
does anyone watch the car and wonder where does it go?
It was 10 minutes to closing when she walked in. She introduced herself as Mrs. Phillps, and took a seat in the chair across my desk. She looked very young to be married, couldn't have been older than nineteen. "What's the trouble, Ma'am?" I questioned. She hesitated a moment then said with a quiver in her voice "My husband has been missing for three days," she paused and sniffled. I noticed a black tear running down her cheek, my eyes shifted to see her emerald eyes surrounded by thick eye makeup. "I was the last to see him, Sir, and I've been too afraid to go to the police because they'll think I offed him" She hastily gave me all the details and left in a flustered hurry. I closed the office and began walking home. It was late now, the streets empty and the stores closed. I didn't see any sign of the girl. It was as if she had disappeared into thin air. I shrugged and continued on my way home.
I stepped into a diner on my way because it had started raining suddenly. I sat down at the breakfast bar and hailed the waitress. She made her way over to me with a coffee stained smile. I suddenly recognized her as the young Mrs. Phillips. I almost didn't recognize her, with her eye makeup gone and the long wavy hair she had pulled out of her face and slicked into a bun. "Fancy seeing you here," I remarked "just a coffee please." She gave me an odd look then proceeded to make fresh coffee. "Mrs. Phillips, my apologies for not being able to stay and work on your husbands case, but it got very late my dear." She quickly spun around, nearly spilling the hot coffee all over her white apron. "How the HELL do you know my name?" she whispered angrily, through clenched teeth. I stammered and came up with the explanation, "You were in my office not even 20 minutes ago in regards to your..." Before I could even finish my sentence she interrupted me in the most eerily composed voice "My apologies Sir, we are closed for the night." I began to object, but before a word escaped my lips she slung the scalding coffee at me, screaming "GET OUT!"
What genre of music is this cuz it's so calming and relaxing I wanna hear more!
multicooldude131 Well, mostly jazz, the noir is the soundtrack you can find on most old detective movies.
It's half past midnight in a smoky bar
with an old rotary payphone from days gone afar
There's history in these walls that nobody knows.
There's more that’s gone on than the place really shows.
Got this lingering feeling that I've been here before
and the revolver on my ankle don't want to stay aimed at the floor.
Can’t explain why I’m restless, can’t explain what I fear.
Don’t know where my vest is with the rest of my gear.
In comes the man with the ski mask and gun.
The brick in my stomach weighs me down like a ton.
I reach for the pistol like I did in my dreams.
I see eyes and mouths wide but I can't hear the screams.
I draw the old J-Frame and aim for the head but the lights just go out.
Damn...I'm dead.
Ever since I can remember i wanted to be a detective....(continue the story)
It was my first case. A crime, a widow... many suspects and nothing but lies. Just what I needed. (Continue...)
The cops didn't seem to like me, but I didn't care. I just wanted to solve this case. (Contuine...)
The big surprise killed me, and with her my great pride.
They'd never find out it was him, would they? No one knew they were talking except Tony and him. His men would walk in tomorrow and think Serenity's boyfriend did it. Serenity. He picked up the pace and sprinted the last few steps to his car. He got in and sped off.
Taking a swig of his whiskey, he remembered Serenity and all she risked for him. No way he could let harm come her way. He'd kill all of Tony's men if he had to. Of course there was still the possibility that Tony had told someone about them just in case something happened. That man always had a back up plan. But would Tony really take the risk of his men finding out he was talking to a cop?
All he knew was that he needed to get to Serenity as soon as possible. Then maybe they could run off together like be always dreamed of. He took another swig and stepped on it.
My dame was a lady like no other...To bad she left me. I looked at my glass of wine that I left on the counter, reminiscing about her luscious red velvet lips. Those were the days. She took of and left without a trace. What a world we live in ehh? A detective's work never ends.