No Witnesses

𝘐 𝘥𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘴.

𝘕𝘰𝘸, 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵’𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘳𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘢𝘯t 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘢 𝘥𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘭𝘬𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘰𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘦.

𝘌𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘢 𝘥𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘤𝘰𝘢𝘵. 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘵’𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘳.

𝘞𝘪𝘵𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵? 𝘐 𝘢𝘴𝘬𝘦𝘥.

𝘕𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵. 𝘞𝘦’𝘭𝘭 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘪𝘵.

𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘱𝘶𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘤𝘢𝘣𝘣𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘰𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘬. 𝘏𝘦𝘳 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘢𝘥, 𝘵𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘥. 𝘏𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘪𝘳 𝘪𝘯𝘬𝘺 𝘣𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘬.

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘪𝘨𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘣𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘰𝘸.

𝘔𝘺 𝘮𝘰𝘩𝘢𝘴𝘬𝘢 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘬, 𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘳𝘮’𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺.

𝘚𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘮𝘦 𝘐 𝘮𝘢𝘺 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘵.

𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘢𝘶𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘦, 𝘱𝘶𝘯𝘤𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘴𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘤𝘰𝘥𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴.

𝘐 𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘥, 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘴.

𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘴𝘭𝘶𝘨𝘴 𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘳.

𝘑𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘤𝘢𝘴𝘦.

𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘮𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘰𝘶𝘴. 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘥𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯’𝘵.

𝘏𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯’𝘵 𝘢𝘥𝘥 𝘶𝘱. 𝘔𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘳𝘶𝘣𝘦.

𝘔𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘣𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘢𝘪𝘯’𝘵 𝘯𝘰 𝘳𝘶𝘣𝘦.

𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘮𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘺.

Another flashback…A photo crafted a few years ago. I shot the Man In The Fedora in Jersey. A wonderful designer in Paris, Stefan, added in the rich details.

All as a way to bring to life Mick Trubble, a wonderful character created by a writer in Alabama, Bard Constantine.

If you like Bogart and Bladerunner, check out Bard’s dystopian noir series, The Troubleshooter.

Bard and Stefan, two really special talents. Bard, i still keep in touch with. Stefan, unfortunately, I’ve lost track of.

This image, and my little piece of flash fiction above, slants more as an homage to my favorite writing, old time crime fiction, and movie genre, film noir.

It is Noirvember, after all.

 

© Mark V. Krajnak | JerseyStyle Photography | All Rights Reserved 2020

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