Streetlamp Rhapsody by Chipka
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No AI - This artwork was created entirely by hand or with traditional digital tools.
Description
She might have been one of those twentieth century ladies—all internal combustion, a tinge of nicotine, and a waxy smear of horse hoof on the lips: what they called lipstick back then. Animal stuff squeezed into a neat cylinder of paste, angled at the tip for easy application. She might have been any Sally or Jane, any hard-eyed trophy of some rich Dick, Tom, or Jonny with a nine-iron and Madison Avenue connections. Her habits came cut with silk and were soft on the neck…or they might have been, if she was your ordinary Sally or Jane. She was neither of those things. She was something else: a sleek and predatory creature like a gazelle with a switchblade. When she smiled, it was like she flashed you nine smooth miles of moonlight or morning fog colder than anything the sun could ever warm. She never looked a man in the eye; her gaze was too direct for that. No, when she looked at a man, she saw clear through to the back of his head, to that back-end bit of brain-meat squashed against the inside of a skull too familiar with bad haircuts and cheap, rakish hats.
I saw her as she was looking at the back of my brain and deciding that she didn’t much care for what I couldn’t help but show her. I wanted to run, to be somewhere—anywhere—else. Hell on a Sunday was better than the depths of dislike she shot between my eyes as her lips pursed around the filter of a Virginia Ultra-Slim. But she had me. Right there. Pinned like leather under a pilot man’s knife, before it went to the dyers, stinking of formaldehyde. It was that kind of day: I was in for…
…I was in for whatever Marlena Marlane had in store for me.
She’d said where to meet her, and I was there, looking at her, thinking of her name, when the back of my skull showed itself to her. She’d decided right then, and right there, that I was a waste of her time…as a man, that is. But as a fixer, I was what she needed; I was the right tool for a three-ways-shady bit of professional acumen.
“Are you Marlena Marlane?” I asked, unsure of what else to say.
She stabbed me with a gaze like vodka and arsenic. She nodded and blew smoke. I smelled nicotine and doodle of Coco #5...
“How are you today?” Dumb-kid question. I was out of my depth. I needed something to say, something to put between me and her, but she already knew me, knew that stuff between my ears, because she could see it. But for a moment, it seemed, all she wanted to do was finish her smoke and then wipe me off the bottom of her shoe, when she was done fixing what needed a fixer like me.
“It’s too early,” she said. “I never go existential before 10 PM.”
**
I’d write more, but quite honestly, I have no idea where this is going. I didn’t even know this was going to be one of those hard-boiled fiction thingies. I blame Corey for that one. As I wrote this, he was listening to the Jerry Goldsmith score to Chinatown. As I wrote this, I was amazed at how much like Bourbon and nicotine that music sounds. Marlena Marlene came out of that, and all I know is that she needs a bit of fixing, and our hapless, nameless protagonist is the one for the job. Only she doesn’t like him.
As for this photo, I guess Marlena Marlane is standing just under this particular lamp post. Smoking, and not really liking the situation she’s found herself in. I’ll tell you more as it develops. At the moment, Marlena Marlane isn't up for saying very much, nor is the first-person narrator with a suspiciously transparent head.
As always, thank you for viewing, reading, and commenting, and I hope you’re all having a great week. Oh, and just so you'll know, no hard-boiled detectives (or fixers) were too-seriously maimed in the writing of this text.
Comments (22)
WOW! this just blew me away hard-hitting and face-smacking writing the photo is cool but the story reminds me of the 40's radio-dramas! I hope this one will continue for a long while
I like the picture, and I've always been a huge fan of the Noire and hardboiled Private Dick kind of story. I can easily picture Humphry Bogart in this. Nice.
Lovely,
Great narrative and great photo! Hope to read more...
No PIs were maimed but that Moon clearly has some stuff missing...what did she do?
Gritty storyline!
Wow, I think that is a great story, even it just stops right there. You have described perfectly a scene, a necessary confrontation, between a sleek, Marlena Dietrich type moll and a piece of dirt who knows exactly what he is. Him I cannot picture, just about any 20 something punk, with kinda rough clothes and a days growth of beard will do. She I think is long blonde wavey hair and blazing red lips with heavy eyeshadow, pearly white teeth (despite being a smoker)and absolutely huge eyes that reek of disdain.
wonderful!!
Stunning capture my friend. God Bless.
She was more sophisticated than I had ever dreamed of being, and all I could do was stand there and grin like an idiot, terrified. "Let it die," she said. I gluped hard. "Let what die?" I almost had to squeak it out. "Hope." She stopped staring at the back of the inside of my head, came back to the outside of my eyes, pinning me to the wall with her intensity. "Hope will kill you in the end." I nodded, not realizing then (although I came to know it so well in later years) that she had a few stock phrases she used to intimidate people. It worked. I was intimidated as hell! "I've got a job for you, boy," she growled, blowing a smoke ring as punctuation and dropping the butt on the Ultra-Slim on the sidewalk. "I'm your man," I babbled, relieved that we could talk business now and get it over with. She raised one eyebrow in my direction. "I doubt that very seriously, but I've heard you're the person to perform a little ... task ... for me." ............... It suddenly came to me that the next part of the story should be "Let it die ..." and I just had to continue! LOL! Sorry to have not furthered the story at all, but it was fun to play with. When I scrolled down the page and saw the tips of these lamps, I knew this had to be yours even before the artist's name appeared. Grant Park? I love the moon suspended between the globes. A most excellent photograph, and you already know I loved the story snippet. Excellent presentation!
Perfectly placed moon dude. I just noticed there seems to be a dirty spot on your sensor lower left.
So evocative! even without the narrative.
Wonderful! LOVE the image, and the story just grabbed me. Tara did a great job trailing it out a bit more. Maybe it should be one of those community-participation things, with everyone writing a snippet. Those can be lots of fun...
Oh, I LOVE this! I was sitting across from you while you hammered it out hard boiled style: with a cigarette in one hand and a strong belt of Dr. Pepper in the other. I watched it take shape like a mystery you were attempting to unravel. All that hard work and the dame hasn't even spilled yet about her beef. Sometimes it's hard being a private dick, but it's all in a day's work: murder, blackmail, kidnapping and dames who refuse to come to the point. But whataya gonna do, whine to your head shrinker? Nah, you turn up the collar of your trench coat and take it like a man... This is great. It's amazing what Jerry Goldsmith's "Chinatown" (my favorite movie by the by)soundtrack and a few passages out of Raymond Chandler's "The Big Sleep" can inspire. The photo is a real ace job, Buddy. Just noticed the moon hangin' there like a drunken sailor with a broken heart. This is one smooth looker, Pal. Here's lookin' at you, Kid.
HA That ought to have a continuation, even though Tara did her part :-D And it is a really awesome shot too.
very romantic i love the light
This is great, Chip! Hope you continue the story - love the hard-boiled private dick style! And I looove that lamp post!
Nice shot!
I really like your treatment of the image here. Very powerful.
Great example of finely designed lamps...with the moon for added value
Well - a great start of a story. I remember the computer-game "Max Payne" ant the voice at the intermissions telling the story around Max. It would be the perfect voice for reading that kind of story. If you like to listen to the voice of James McCaffrey in the game watch this video. I also like what auntitk wrote as the next part of this. The lamps remember me on the "Karls-Bridge" in Prague...
a wonderful capture of the moon between the street lamps. as always Chip - I enjoyed your narrative!