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
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.
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.
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...
"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..........
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?
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.
"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."
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.
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.
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?"
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."
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)
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
I love this stuff, another tune that perfect matched the video and the hardboiled detective feel is Nathan Allen Pinard - Another day's work from Gemini Rue. It's so awesome...
"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.
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.
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?
So there i was alone in a dark office surrounded by paperwork, a night just like any other. That was until she walked in, little did i know what lay before me. This dame was a beautiful bombshell with a soul as cold as the arctic circle.
I saw her, and she was beautiful. I knew I had to have her. She is...perfect. So, being me, I instinctively took a step forward in this glum and shallow opportunity. I'm shaken by the thought of losing her even though I have never met her yet. This is it! The chance to say something cheesy, or...classy.
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.
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.”
"just another day in goodneighbor" i said to myself, looking out a foggy window. it had been raining for more than a week. i got up and walked over towards the coffee maker on my desk.
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!"
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....
It was a long night in the office, I feel drained I need a whiskey. Whiskey always numbs my anxiety. But all of a sudden, there she was; the woman with green eyes.
"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."
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.
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.
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.
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.
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...
At first when I woke up drenched in blood, I thought it was me. Dizzy and with vague memories of a wild night full of wine and lipstick kisses, tried to figured it all... Then I noticed my magnum was gone and my wallet was empty. Except for one printed red kiss in a white paper. My chest hurted like if someone digged a hole into it. And I realized it was her.
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.
Nothing could drag me down like she did. I can still remember - even after all these years - how I went down on one knee to ask for her hand in marriage. I have it here still, in my crappy refrigerator. Its all I have to remember her by.
The sign on the door to my office said "Closed", but she came in anyways. She told me her story. What a dame! She had looks. She had smarts, She had a husband.
"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.
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 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 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.
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...
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
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
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.
![fellow fellow - PROUD feat. INK WARUNTORN [STRING QUARTET]](http://i.ytimg.com/vi/BQrVkMPTdHE/mqdefault.jpg)
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
Wow. I clicked on this video not knowing what noir is...
My eyes have been opened.
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
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."
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: th-cam.com/video/jDnnx129I90/w-d-xo.html
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*
"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..........
"It was a blonde. A blonde to make a bishop kick a hole in a stained glass window."
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
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.
Just got finished playing LA noire and I was looking at related videos and saw this awesomeness
+Kazu Maeda Same here!
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.
"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!
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.
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.
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.
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."
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)
Listening to this while reading any books from James Ellroy is best experience
Reading Spiderman noir with noir jazz perfect combination
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.
Having my pug Chandler sleeping on my knees and reading Poirot adventures while listening to this...yeah that's the life ;-)
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.
This plus the sounds of rain opened in another tab makes a marvelous compilation
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!!!
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.
Dances and Dames , my kind of observing from a distance ...music
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...._
Had this on while writing a detective story. Thank for the inspiration.
It's a cold dark day,
Here in dream land...
JonTron c:
Wonderful..Thank you... ."You got a light, mac? No... but I've got a dark brown overcoat"
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.
Didn't realize the picture was actually a video! Nice detail! You got a like.
Serene, yet an undercurrent of fear or apprehension..
I literally searched off-and-on for the last two years to find this genre of music, not knowing the term for it. Wow!
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.
Yeap credit to the video maker, excellent image.
Thank you!
I love this stuff, another tune that perfect matched the video and the hardboiled detective feel is Nathan Allen Pinard - Another day's work from Gemini Rue. It's so awesome...
"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...
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.
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?
6:17 reminds me of Blue's Clues.
I was just about to comment that! lol!
6:16 We need our handy dandy notebook.
window blinds half open sipping bourbon from a shooter at a desk in front of a typewriter
So there i was alone in a dark office surrounded by paperwork, a night just like any other. That was until she walked in, little did i know what lay before me. This dame was a beautiful bombshell with a soul as cold as the arctic circle.
this is a wonderful compilation. i have been looking for something with the noir vibe as ambiance while i write. thank you so much for this!
Wow, for a moment I thought it was a still image and when I saw the water moving it freaked me out. Nice shot ;)
I saw her, and she was beautiful. I knew I had to have her. She is...perfect. So, being me, I instinctively took a step forward in this glum and shallow opportunity. I'm shaken by the thought of losing her even though I have never met her yet. This is it! The chance to say something cheesy, or...classy.
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.
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
After a long day in the office I decided to pour myself some whiskey and light up a cigar . . .
I want to play L.A Noire again...
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.”
"just another day in goodneighbor" i said to myself, looking out a foggy window. it had been raining for more than a week. i got up and walked over towards the coffee maker on my desk.
Reading Will Christopher Baer with this on in the background.
yes just what I need after a long day.
oldstuff4all Thanks for this, it is like I am following Bogart in his sinful city.
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!"
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....
The first piece is crazy
It was a long night in the office, I feel drained I need a whiskey. Whiskey always numbs my anxiety. But all of a sudden, there she was; the woman with green eyes.
"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."
this music is the best
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.
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.
There has been an awakening.... have you felt it?
12:31 I feel like following a suspect down a dark alley
twin peaks soundtrack
wonderful music,so dark, thx 4 share
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
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.
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...
This is so.....relaxing
Of all the pubs in all the world. . . she just had to walk into mine.
Very Twin Peakish.
At first when I woke up drenched in blood, I thought it was me.
Dizzy and with vague memories of a wild night full of wine and lipstick kisses, tried to figured it all...
Then I noticed my magnum was gone and my wallet was empty. Except for one printed red kiss in a white paper.
My chest hurted like if someone digged a hole into it.
And I realized it was her.
I listen to this while reading Watchmen.
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.
Very nice! Thanx for sharing
The nostalgia burns as lit as the butt of my cigarette
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.
Nothing could drag me down like she did. I can still remember - even after all these years - how I went down on one knee to ask for her hand in marriage.
I have it here still, in my crappy refrigerator. Its all I have to remember her by.
The sign on the door to my office said "Closed", but she came in anyways. She told me her story.
What a dame! She had looks. She had smarts, She had a husband.
"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.
beautiful
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 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?
Beautiful music
thank you, nice music to read
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.
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...
finally this is awesome man
Excellent
Where is this video taken? it's wonderful..:))
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
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
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.