We're All A Bit Crazy Base Idea.

Short Story Snippet

The streets were soiled with the smell of rain. I reached into my pocket feeling a rectangular box. I pulled it out of my pocket revealing a brass logo. A lighter in my coat pocket. I pulled it out, igniting the spark within. The flame appeared slowly dancing in the slow wet air. Today my job was a simple questioning between me and a largely known convict. I was told most detectives shied away from this man. Due to this factor I was offered a large chunk of change. I walked down the heavily soaked sidewalk, my dress shoes scraping against the solid ground. I finally reached the gate. Of course most detectives would have a car to get from place to place but I had totaled mine before this, so I had to bear the tarnishing wind and walk on foot. When I reached the correctional officer at his post he looked quite puzzled to see me walk into the building on foot.

"Sir, what can we do for you?" asked the man with confusion in his voice.

"I'm here for a police matter." I replied, flashing my badge in his face. "Go right ahead, Sir." replied the man. I headed down the escalating road down to the front entrance of the prison. Around the outside was an iron piercing barbed fence. The gate was electrified to keep prisoners from escaping. A man I recognized walked up to the gate.

 "Mr.Wells, are you here to question Charles Westcliff?" asked the man with an assertive tone. "Yes, Mr.Oswald. I assume he's already in the interrogation room?" I replied. "Yes he's ready for you. Fully shackled,"Oswald replied. We headed through the gate. It sounded like an engine about to explode as it recklessly opened. Sparks flew from the inside of the gate hitting the ground.

"You coming?" asked Oswald hurriedly. "Uh, Yes." I replied with shock in my voice. I walked through the heavy steel door into the prison. The hallway smelt like a pile of cigarettes, burnt to a crisp. Lights hung above the ceiling blinking on and off. The hall was white with dark stanes. The cigarette smoke burnt my eyes as I continued down the hall. The floor tiles almost completely tattered away. My footsteps echoed through the deep gloomy hallway. As I stepped my shoes stuck to the floor. Each time I stepped it was like peeling up duck tape.

"Here we are! Go ahead and open the door!" Oswald hollered. I grabbed my ID and slowly opened the door. Revealing a long beat up metal table. A man sat at the table with his hand running down the front. Metal peeled off into his hands. His nails started to pour a crimson liquid as he continued to scratch at  the already tarnished table. "Keep his cuffs on! Do not remove them Mr.Wells! I'm serious when I tell you this, he is a very dangerous man!" shouted Oswald. I looked at him like he had six hydronic(dragon heads) heads. I walked further into the room with cautious steps. The floor creaked underneath me as I moved closer to the table. I sat on the far end away from the man.

"Sir, can you look up at me?" I said tenderly. His eyes stayed frozen at the ceiling. His eyes froze over like the arctic. With fixed eyes he didn't blink. "Sir! Look up at me!" I shouted. He finally broke from his frozen trance looking down at me, without blinking.

"Oh! I didn't see you there!" The man replied with a large smile. "Here's his file, keep it safe!" urged Oswald. I flipped the file open revealing many papers underneath. The first page had information leading as to why Charles Westcliff had landed himself in prison. Farther down the page it explained that this man was facing a death penalty. "So, Mr.Westcliff. How did you get here?" I asked. "Oh you know the usual way people get, committing crimes!" He replied.

I had no Idea why so many people were afraid of this guy. There was  really no reason to be. His smile started to stretch across his face like an elastic band. He leaned forward gritting his teeth. "What sort of crime did you commit?" I asked, pulling away from his smile. "Simple ones. Oh you know, the basics!" replied Charles. We continued to discuss this matter for a long while. After about an hour of interrogation, I was getting nowhere. Charles only gave blank responses with little information. Soon enough Charles started to describe things such as man by the name of Jimmy Conway. "Who is Jimmy Conway?" I asked with an immersive tone. He looked at me for a few seconds with a burst of confusion on his face. "I already told you, he was my partner!" replied Charles, annoyed. "Oh yes, and what happened to him?" I asked. He looked at me even more eagerly, leaning closer and closer to me.

"He died, sad really. He was my best friend, a true friend." He replied. "How did he die?" I looked at him worriedly. Tears grew like water balloons in his eyes. He blinked once and they burst. Tears trickled down his scarred face. "Oswald killed him! He killed him out of pure want!" exclaimed Charles, his voice choppy from the tears. "Maybe you should forgive him. It would be a good way to show you care and have tried to move on Charles." I replied calmly. "I can't." Charles replied. Calm with steady words. "You need to show that you're sorry Charles." I replied forcefully. "You can't force him to do this, he doesn't have to forgive my actions Curtiss." replied Oswald, seemingly out of nowhere. "I apologize Charles, I know how much that hurts you." continued Oswald. "No you don't know! You have no idea!" exclaimed Charles. "I'm sorry." replied Oswald. Charles looked up at him, tears still rolling down his face. His skin glistened in the room's light. His eyes were red like crimson blood. "Mr.Oswald, I forgive you." replied Charles. Shock struck Oswald's face. He couldn't believe that Charles had actually forgiven him for his best friend's death. "Mr.Westcliff, I don't deserve your forgiveness." replied Oswald. "But you do, I need to let go of my pain." replied Charles calmly. "Thank you sir." replied Oswald. " You are very welcome." responded Charles. 

Oswald took Charles away from the interrogation room, leaving me there on my own. I stood up, looked around one last time and walked out the door. I was back to the very same hall as before. The smell of cigarettes slowly faded. A waft of something new hit my nostrils. Immitting from the end of the hall I could smell freshly grilled burgers. I ignored the pleasant smell and walked out of the big steel door, back through the sparking gate and to the street. After a few moments the sky crackled. Cold drops of rain flew through the sky landing on my head. "What a wonderful way to end the evening." I said to myself as I walked slowly down the damp street.