Change

 On a Saturday night, Franklin took his girlfriend on a date. The November weather was a perfect clash for tropical Florida, and they went to a beach-front restaurant to celebrate their one year anniversary. He was beginning to give serious thought to marriage. Telling her of this over the cocktails they drank before the food arrived had been a mistake. "I told you when we started dating I hated the concept of marriage, Franklin. Who wants to be tied down?" He saw her mouth continue to move for a while, but didn't hear a word. The expression on her face changed and Franklin realized she had asked a question and was angry. He surprised himself by smiling and almost laughed. She left him sitting alone, staring at her empty seat. He finished his drink, then hers. The waiter brought the food and he ordered a vodka tonic that came soon after in a long glass. He swallowed it in two bitter swigs, threw money on the table, and walked out.

  On the beach sand he looked out toward the water and because it was a moonless night, the bright lights of the shops and restaurants and bars made it seem as if the world ended at the edge of the water. He started walking, deciding to reach the pier and watch the people fish, instead of letting the feeling of hopelessness clutch at his heart. He nearly tripped over the vagrant asleep under some palm trees close to a hotel, owing to the newspaper that covered the man. At first, he felt only sorrow for this man as he looked down at the half-shaded, scabrous face, forgetting his own pain. And he began to walk again when the wind changed direction and he could smell the vagrant. A mixture of acrid sweat and human waste baked under the bleaching sun on the white sand of this beach filled his nose. Still, he would have moved on if he hadn't seen the large rock by the palm tree.

  There was no sound from the man as his head was bashed in other than the hollow one of bone splintering, then something like mud being stepped on. Blood poured from the open head and spread out in a semicircle. In the outside lights of the hotel he could see the sand turn dark, and the effect looked almost beautiful. There was no empathy now, only disgust. He walked down to the water and heaved the rock out as far as he could, then got on his knees and cleaned his hands and spattered face in the soft waves. The beach remained empty as he looked around and the dead man had all but disappeared when he looked back to the hotel. He started to the pier again whose lights looked comforting, the dark waters lapping at its beams.        

 



   

Reviews

[Char'els Beanland]

Greeting again Allen B.

You do have a great talent for describing things for the reader. Very cool indeed. Use "Time new Romans font 12" so it is easier to read online.

In the two stories I have read you have a strong view of "Noir" to you. I might suggest trying to write a radio play and having a few friends read for this style as though it might be an old time radio show.
http://www.oldradioworld.com/mysteryoldtimeradioshows.php
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_old-time_radio_programs - (Is very large list of radios shows).

You have a great talent to you and I want you to go forward with this. It may seem to you like Radio - ? He's out of his mind.
Think of this, this way. You tube has the videos. Why not try your hand at books on audio - other wise called "Radio if your lived back in the 30's and 50's.

Keep writing young man. YOU have great Talent.