“Unfruitful Works of Darkness” by Ly Faulk

Seeing the city isn’t necessary to know what is going down out there. Crime. He can smell it.

McGruff the Crime Dog scruffs out his cigarette, exhales blue-gray smoke. He grabs a bottle from the modest bar in his office. It doesn’t matter what, anything brown will do. A slug straight from the bottle before he clinks two ice cubes into a glass and pours himself a proper drink. He unhooks his gaze as he stares out the dirty window with a grand view of the brick wall next door. Seeing the city isn’t necessary to know what is going down out there. Crime. He can smell it. Sooner or later, it’ll wash up on his shores and it will be up to him to take a bite. If he can stomach the taste. He growls, finishes his drink, and pours another. It’s beginning to look like another night spent sleeping in his office. Later, a light rain tinkles against the window. McGruff the Crime Dog nestles into his trench coat, blocking out the slight chill in the room, and closes his eyes. There is a warm glow in his gut and he dreams about disappearing unobserved. He knows that no one really disappears like that. We always leave something behind.

Ly Faulk has loved reading and writing for as long as they could read and write. They still believe in the power of the written word to change lives. Twitter: @whismicalraven