Archive for the ‘Mr Brightside’ Category

Chapter 0+1: “In The Shadow of the Towers”

Wednesday, January 23rd, 2008

Opening Gambit – A Warm Day in September, 2001

what matters most is
how well you
walk through the
fire.
— Charles Bukowski

He comes out of the water, dripping. He’s the sort of a male that you see working as an academic, or perhaps on Wall Street. An academic, or a pencil pusher. Certainly not the kind of guy who has the self-confidence to approach the gorgeous young lady lying on the golden sand of Coney Island, but that’s just what he does.“May I lay down next to you?” he asks.
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0-1(a): “GALLERY OF SHADOWS”

Wednesday, January 23rd, 2008

0-1(a): “GALLERY OF SHADOWS”
by Gregory Hernandez


Chapter One: Ticket – Admit One – ADULT

I had come so far to have traveled so little. When I first arrived, this island, these nations, this world had been hieroglyphs waiting to be translated. Having spent time in the United States, I could say that America was not only engaged in misadventures abroad – America was a nation at war with itself. Its ideals were being ruined by seedy politics. Politics had become a stage upon which con men and clowns cavorted fitfully; obscenely.

I had never expected to become even peripherally involved in that world, but there I was in a book store in lower Manhattan talking with one of the stage hands who operated behind the scenes of the great political play. He had no name, only a reputation. That was acceptable. I had no identity, only a rough mission: to understand the world where I had unexpectedly found myself.

The Unknown Soldier and The Mark – quite a pair we made.
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Mr Brightside
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0-1: “STEPS ALONG THE MURDER MILE”

Tuesday, January 22nd, 2008

0-1: “STEPS ALONG THE MURDER MILE”
by Gregory Hernandez


The Hooded Man half-crouched over the grave, while the Lady of Flowers stood away to his left, looking away from the grave at the storm-cloud filled sky. What fascinated me about me most about the painting, was an illusion the artist had managed to pull off: giving the impression of their being a third figure in between the two of them. It was either a tombstone or a third mourner, obscured by a flurry of grey leaves.
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