LATE NIGHT FILM - PAUL D. BRAZILL
Originally published in Disenthralled #3 in November 2009
It’s spring and, teetering precariously at the precipice of middle age, I become a self-imposed exile from London and get drunk between the moon and New York City. I know it’s crazy but it’s true. I set off with a half-arsed plan to hit the road, like Jack and Tom, and like so many half-arsed plans it all goes pear-shaped as quick as spit disappears on hot pavement.
Spring soon segues into a forty-two degree summer in Madrid. Close up on me burning my hand on the side of a taxi; falling into a fountain in Sol, as drunk as fuck; a row of prostitutes lined up outside a shop called Easy Everything, one of them blind; waking up in a shop doorway in the midday heat as a policeman goes for his gun. Freeze frame.
And then summer stumbles into autumn which tumbles into a winter in Warsaw’s snow smothered streets. More close ups: beer breakfasts in a twenty-four hour pub; the football stadium’s Russian market selling Nazi memorabilia; a Ukrainian lap dancer on her knees, snorting cocaine in the middle of Old Town square.
And then cut to a sparse apartment, walls splattered with blood that looks shitty in the pissy light. Then...
BIO: Paul D. Brazill was born in Hartlepool, England and lives in Bydgoszcz, Poland. He has had stories in A Twist Of Noir, Beat To A Pulp, Blink Ink and other such classy joints. He can be found stalking Paul D. Brazill at Paul D. Brazill.
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