This is set in the same universe as my novel in progress. I hope you enjoy. -D.G.D.
The sages tell us that time is a cycle. Epochs and eons arise and pass away, yet always return, for the universe is but one vast, slowly turning wheel. A man’s life is much the same: years flow by, but the same events happen time and time again. A personal example—days pass, and I grow steadily older, but I still regularly find myself flat on my back with a pistol in my face. Formerly, this happened once a month. Now it’s once a week.
The muzzle of the Jericho 941 dug into my forehead, and pain shot across my skull. The pain didn’t distress me, and the finger on the trigger didn’t distress me. What distressed me were my brand new gold-embroidered kurta and pyjama, pressed against the ground and getting dirty. I had just bought these clothes.
Well, “bought” is something of a euphemism. And that is why I was lying on the ground in the first place. Continue reading “Smooth Criminal: From the Casefiles of the Ragamuffin”