My Idea Box

ORIGINAL IDEA: Corpses under a cracked sky

After the crack in the sky flashed again, Marty realized someone was spying on him. His first clue flickered in the briefly shining pool of blood by his feet. He looked up, past the raindrops. Another flash proved him right, as hooded figures stared back from above the alley.

Marty's first instinct was to run. A car's headlights blocked one exit and a wall blocked the other, so he rushed back into the warehouse. Unlike outside, no rain or exhaust hid one rotting body, let alone several. Even distancing himself didn't keep their fresh deaths from warming him in the shadows. He breathed in the metallic stench and another's dinner spread out on the floor.

He ducked and kept close to the wall, far enough from the footsteps. "Ugh!" he heard from the open door. A woman's voice rose, saying in Japanese, "... guys! Guys, you should take a look!"

"Aki, stay outside!" said a man a second later.

A gasp, lighter than the first two, told Marty this Aki didn't listen. That and barfing. "I told you," groaned the man before putting a hand to his ear. "Runa, do something about the lights!"

A flash from outside shone through the entrance and onto four dark coats. It was the best Marty, hidden in his corner, could hope for. "We'll make do," said the first figure, and raised her fists.

Marty stiffened from the gun in said woman's grip. A glock, tiny compared to the man's shotgun. The corpses Marty crawled past were of both sizes and had different-sized firearms. He flexed his fingers over the pistol he stole, the same he used to kill them. "Keep moving. Stop and you're dead," he whispered in English.

Judging by the figures inching the other way, Marty guessed he went unheard. Not for long. "He did all this? But we saw them come in half an hour ago!" said the man. "Oi, Aki! Are you–"

"I'm alright," said the short woman who threw up. "I'm just... a little..."

More barfing followed, and Marty covered his nose behind his sleeve. His jacket, soaked with splattered blood and acid rain, only reminded him of the men and women he killed. Gangmembers, their dark suits ruined by bullets in their bellies, throats, or heads. Unlike their friends, Marty dashed around the blood and hid behind a nearby pillar. "You hear that?" he heard the first woman say and cursed himself for his carelessness.

Marty also cursed when checking his pistol. Twobullets left. Not enough to finish the rest... unless...

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AN: Seeing how I've been stuck when it comes to writing recently, I've decided to go back to this old short story idea from years ago. It's not much now but maybe I can make something of it. Until then, take care.

-W.S.