Frank Macleod

                                                        (1) 

Through the smog, he could see the three dimensional shadow of Aislinn, on her knees scrubbing the doorstep of Grant’s Manor. Fading sunset, reflecting from a single point in the sky, ignored the grey landscape and scattered softer shades of Halloween orange into her dress. The lad with strange eyes looked again. Were his eyes playing tricks? No, he could see an aura of pastel colours, like a halo, around the shape of her body. Spectral shades mixed in the aura to form the unique colour of love. The Celtic blue pigment of ‘expecting nothing in return’ and the caustic red of ‘never letting go’ reflected in the light.

                                                     (2)

A warm sensation lurking behind his right eye released a charge and exploded. Walsh jumped out of his seat and said something; Frank had no idea what it was. The pain, like a kick in the back of the head, triggered temporary blindness. Out of the dark, pictures flickered onto a canvas. He could see Sergeant Paine walking towards a building holding a flashlight. As he approached the steps leading to the entrance, the door burst open and a figure appeared carrying a double-barrelled shotgun. Without any warning, the occupant placed the butt to his shoulder, cocked the hammer, and fired both barrels at the officer

                                                     (3)

The detective crouched under the steering wheel and waited for the pedestrian to pass. Facing the driver’s door, suddenly the intensity of the street lighting created an almost daytime effect. Constantly flickering on and off and then dimming to a softer muted glow, the lights appeared to be experiencing a rapid sag and swell in electricity. The temperature inside the car plummeted down; a cold-blooded chill penetrated his skin and crawled up his spine. Moist air from his mouth changed to condensation on the inside of the windscreen. Crystal ice pellets formed at the bottom of the screen. He could hear the click and track of leather shoes hitting the concrete passing the car. Every hair was standing on the back of the neck.