My poor aching back

A noir tale taken from the notebook of a "investigator"

Apr 09, 2025

Hey friends, I thought I’d share the first draft of a scene I’ve been working on. Nothing too complex. I’m not even sure where it’s going to go. I just started with an idea and let it run. It’s one of the things I do to flex the creative muscle and keep my writing chops in.

I also figured this could be a cool way for any of my writing friends to help flex their own feedback and editorial muscles. Here’s my first draft, let me know what you think. Feel free to rip off the band-aid and let me have the full force of your critique. What’s good? What’s bad? Is there anything worth saving?

If there’s enough interest I’ll take the feedback and post a second (and maybe third) draft and together we can all see the magic take shape.

My back is aching.

A hard days work?

A bad nights sleep?

Getting the shit kicked out of me by a gang of thugs in a back alley behind a bar?

If you guessed all of the above then you’d be spot on.

My back is killing me.

But I’m still here and still kicking back, which coincidentally is what happened with the thugs. And, to my credit I think I got the better end of the deal. Four on one isn’t my drink of choice in these scenarios but on occasions I can make an exception.

Plus the lack of sleep made me grumpy which is never a good sign for the other guy (or guys in this case).

To their credit, they did get the better of me at one point, but there’s nothing like a gravel sandwich and a toe poke up the jacksie to bring out the fighting spirit. I upped my game at that point - just when they thought they were winning.

You could call it part of a cunning plan to lull them into a false sense of security, me? I called it an occupational hazard and a flaw of judgement on their part.

They should know when they’ve got a guy on the ropes the last thing you do is give him a chance to breathe, or in this case slip on a pair of brass knuckles.

I love to see the look of surprise on a saps face when he gets hit harder than he’s ever been hit in his life and he quickly swallows his pride mixed with the coppery tang of blood and splintered cheek bone.

The second scum bag got a liver shot that might also have punctured a lung (meh), that took the wind right out of his sales.

The remaining two thugs decided that discretion was the better part of valour and promptly legged it for all they were worth.

I was in no fit state to give chase and was about to give cracked face a few bruised ribs to add to his woes so that the night wasn’t a total right off when I head a clash of bins and a scream.

I didn’t hear the snap but from the way he was holding his leg as I strolled down the alley I could see he’d broken it.

Sucker.

Rule number one of escape and evade, make sure the thing you’re trying to vault over doesn’t give way underneath you and dump you on your ass. The last guy had already long gone when I got to stumpy - so much for standing by your friends, anyway thanks to this little bit of luck I now had a semi compliant person of interest I could interrogate at my leisure. We were far enough back that I doubt anyone would hear his screams.

Oh well, enough talking, there’s work to be done.