‘The Surrealist: Chapter One’ by Ahmed Nader Gretly

The Surrealist

Chapter One: Midnight Ring

You search for love, but all you find is lust. Ex-detective John McKinsey thought to himself as he rolled a cigarette, sitting by a small table next to a bed where a young blonde lay with her bum covered up by a white sheet.

Damn broad.

McKinsey leaned back in his chair, resting his feet on the table; he lit up his cigarette and glared out the window. He watched the midnight fog rolling down the streets, through the alleyways and into every corner of a city time forgot. The moonlight, shielded by a thick curtain of haze shone dimly into his dark room, spotlighting the beautiful blonde sleeping on his bed; he couldn’t help looking back at her. He took a deep drag from his cigarette and puffed a cloud of smoke with a sigh, the smoke hovered around his face as his eyes shifted back to that godforsaken city that rested outside his small apartment’s window. McKinsey got up and opened the window, he flicked the cigarette butt and took a breath of the city’s air and held it for a second inside his lungs.

“Hmm… Silence.” He whispered to himself “This doesn’t feel right, this town—”

But he was cut off by the piercing sound of his telephone, the ringing sound that could bring a whole neighborhood back to life did not seem to have any effect on the drunken blonde on the bed. McKinsey took another breath then staggered to the telephone, a cold breeze blew from the window and hit his nude body sending a chill down his spine. He picked up the phone.

“What do you want, Mullin?!” McKinesy barked.

“How did you—”

“No one knows this number except you, you old bastard. Now, what do you want?”

“Mac,  we’ve gotta problem.” Police Chief Frank Mullin said in a hesitant voice “We need you back.”

“That’s not gonna happen Frank, you know damn well I don’t do this shit anymore, not after the last time.”

“That’s the score Johnny; we think… we think he’s back.”

John McKinesy swallowed hard; he collapsed down onto the foot of the bed.

“What’re you talkin’ about, Frank?” John said with a voice not quite his own.

“I can’t do this over the phone Johnny, we need you here.”

McKinesy thought for a moment.

“Meet me at Rosie’s in an hour.” he said then hung up the phone.

John McKinesy sat by the foot of the bed trying to contemplate the news he’d just received, but his mind was scrambled up with so many thoughts of the past, he could not think clearly. He got up to smoke another cigarette before getting dressed.

Just like the old days. The thought lingered.

[End of chapter one]

(To be continued…)

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About Ahmed Gretly

Ahmed Nader Gretly. Construction/Site Engineer, fiction writer, poet, psychopath, researcher, a book addict, and a daydreamer from Cairo, Egypt. Currently doing Construction Project Management, MSc, at Heriot-Watt University, Edinburgh.
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