Author Archives: Karl Pajak Writes

About Karl Pajak Writes

Many people want to know how to write, what it takes. I tell them it's simple. I then have them pick a word, ask them to write it down. I then ask them to pick another word, one they think goes with the first word. I then ask them to write it down. I then ask them to continue the process until they have created a story. It's really that simple... just write. The hard part is becoming well written. That journey has been painful, and exhausting. Mainly because I can't dedicate enough time to my craft, something that is mandatory if you are to become well written. So, I languish in the back water region of some forgotten bowl of soup, floating among the other jetsam, until finally I fish myself out of the dregs and attempt to hone my craft again. Perhaps I am well written enough to actually give writing a go. It's time to find out.

Jukebox memories of 1918

… and so he walked through the haze of smoke towards the bar leaving his drink on the table to gather condensation. Her beautiful golden hair hung perfectly down her back, framed by the vibrant red dress. Her white-gloved-hand held a beautifully carved ivory quellazaire.

The music on the jukebox caught his attention, and he stopped. He hadn’t heard that song since he was a kid. And suddenly it was as if he was transported back in time. There she sat, his mother, listening to her gramophone.  He was thirteen and his dad had just been killed in World War I, somehow the two times seemed to merge. He felt dizzy. Just the booze, has to be the booze, he thought. Steadying himself he walked up to the beautiful woman, such a striking resemblance to Linda, Christ I’m going nuts! he thought as fear tried to break through and overwhelm him. Then she turn, and their eyes locked. Her smiled failed to touch her lips.

“Crazy Jack, isn’t it?” she said pushing the gun towards him.

“Yeah, crazy. Linda… hell it can’t be you, you’re dead!” he said excitedly.

The stood there quietly listening to the jukebox play that old time melody, from 1918. Each one knew that their next actions held life or death. The song quieted, and slowly ended. The click-clack noises of the machine came to an end. They knew it was time.

 

The Dark Water

The orange bit of carrot protruded from her front tooth, daring everyone to remove it. The orange reflected oddly off the red pool of blood forming under her head. How do I always get the worst cases? Tim Schumecker thought to himself. It’s not as if I enjoy this type of thing. He shook his head and starred at her. Her smile would forever be marred by that last bit of humor the killer had. Cut the lips back just enough to shove a carrot wedge into the space between the lips and teeth.

“Detective?” the female voice washed over him. “Excuse me, detective. I’m Loren, from the coroner’s office. I need to take her now,” she said softly.

“Ok, go ahead. I’m through here.” Tim replied. He stood there watching the activity, long into the night. When the street lights came on, and everyone had gone away.

The light rain, pelted against his face and he smiled. Turning to the right be began tracing an odd path around the area. Had anyone witnessed his movements they would have thought him drunk. Two to the right, and stop. There, the portal should be open now, he thought. He turned to his right again and strode out of sight, off this reality and onto another.  The sounds of the squad room filled his ears, and only the desk Sergeant noticed his arrival.

“Tim you gotta stop doing that, you know better, been warned that if you were caught again it’d be off the force.” Sergeant Harihan said.

“Yeah yeah, I know. But I had to go this time.” Tim stated in a dismissive tone.

“Why, why did you have to go?” Harihan rebutted.

“He’s back.” Tim said coldly.

The water of the dock lapped against the peer, soft patting noises were the night’s only company. Finally, after everyone had left, and the rain had stopped the darkness moved. Out of it came a tall, and gangly figure. He stood for a time, staring at the blood on the dock, softly chewing on his crunchy carrot. After he finished the carrot he smiled, turned and began an odd jigg-dance and soon he too was gone. The dark water was finally alone, in the quite of the night.