Elster's World

Tuesday, August 30, 2005

The Road Less Travelled Part II

YOU MIGHT WANT TO READ THE PART I OF THE ROAD LESS TRAVELLED (BELOW) FIRST. THEN AGAIN, YOU MIGHT NOT.

Patrolman Ted Frick reached the scene about five minutes after the first of four 911 calls to the station house. He pulled his unit up on the grass and flicked on his brights. In the current gloom of evening the high intensity beams had no effect but after the last rays of sunlight fell below the horizon, he would need them.

He stepped out from the car and surveyed the damage. He could see the skid marks where the car had lost its battle with the road. Pieces of Mustang littered the embankment like the discarded clothes of passionate lovers making their way to the bedroom. Frick shook his head and returned to the car. He radioed in a request for an ambulance, but he knew it was a waste of time. Nothing human could have survided in the twisted metal that now looked more like some abstract sculpture than a muscle car.

A white van with the words Alderson's Retirement Village was parked on the side of the road. A man, presumably the driver, stood on the grass smoking an unfiltered cigarette. He wore three quarter length jean shorts low on his waist and a white t-shirt with a skull and the words Kill 'Em All and Let The Man Sort It Out on it. Fricke walked over. "You call it in?" he asked the smoker.

He nodded. "Yeah. What a mess. I checked it out. You're gonna have to ID this dude with dental records. You could clean up his remains with a mellon baller."

"His name was Horatio. His 'Stang gives him away. He was a drug dealer's wet dream. Always looking to score and always flush with cash."

The driver took a deep drag on the cig. "You better what where you fling that, partner," Frick said. "Crashed cars have a nasty tendency to spill gasoline all over the place." The driver took the unfinished butt to the road and carefully crushed it out on the pavement. He looked uncomfortable.

"Well, if it's all the same to you officer, I gotta fly. If I don't get the coffin walkers back to base soon, they're gonna be a lotta wet seats in that van."

Frick nodded. As the car pulled away, Frick took one last look at the dying light. He pulled a flashlight out of the patrol car and flicked it on. The strong bean cut through the gloom like a beacon out on a fog banked ocean. It was time to take a look at the wreckage.

3 Comments:

  • This has the feel of one of those 40s detective novels. When I first read it, I actually thought something more sinister was going on - that the driver of the van ran Horatio off the road and then called 911 pretending to be someone who just happened by. I got what really happened on the second read, but I like the ambiguity I got from the first...

    Everything ok, Elster? You've been pretty quiet on the blogging front the past week..

    By Blogger MC Aryeh, at 12:13 PM  

  • I actually was thinking about doing a ghost story but, as usual, I don't have the time to really flesh one out.

    On this blog I usually find a quick inspiration to start writing something knowing I won't finish them. It's the writing equivilant of throwing things against a wall to see if anythinf sticks. I really liked Stillwell house though....

    Also I've been really busy at work.

    By Blogger Elster, at 12:24 PM  

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