In the Ending Night

Custom User Avatar
More by this author
He ended up somewhere near Encino at about one in the morning with a jacket, a few t-shirts, and a terrible headache. Saul’s phone had been ringing for the past half hour, but he rarely answered. Saul was a caring guy, had a steady job, a great apartment, but a lot of bad friends. Those charlatans were the end all be all of Saul’s crumbling existence. The trouble started sometime around Friday night. It is always easy to tell that it was getting late not by the setting of the sun, but by the swine that stormed the town. These welfare abusers would drink heavily around six to prepare for the harassment of the oncoming evening crowd. The luminous lights of Ventura Boulevard led the way down to Saul’s main hangout. The drive was the most peaceful time of his week, with palm trees in view and a cool breeze against his head. He arrived at Colton’s recently renovated nightclub, although no amount of money could buy the look of class he was aiming for. Saul was excelling at forgoing the vices that had previously controlled his life, but friends like Colton gave Saul the idea that he was slipping into old habits.

The flashing lights of the downtrodden club terrified Saul. He walked towards the rear of the club, brushing shoulders and receiving icy stares. He pushed open the already ajar door and entered his friend’s private room. But before Saul got a word in, three oversized gentleman barged past him, yelling drunken slurs with spit flying every which way.

“Man, Colt, this place is a disaster!”

Immediately after, Colton whipped out his uncle’s double barreled shotgun from under his desk and aimed the weapon at the now unwelcomed guests, roaring orders, and oscillating the dreadful thing recklessly. Saul always knew his old college roommate to be a bit unstable. He found this instability to be dangerously bordering on insanity. He was a prolific gambler with deep pockets thanks to his fathers thriving plumbing industry. But the gambling led to perilous situations with the most unsavory of characters, who would push Colton closer and closer to the edge, an edge he was now at.

Each sweating profusely, the three guys stood looking less like thugs for hire but more so resembled men with Parkinson’s. Their bodies shook, with rueful eyes that saw nothing but death. Saul cautiously convinced Colton to lower his firearm. The three bodies scampered away right after. The specter of a large, shining war relic shoved in their faces seemingly rebuffed the things they wanted from Colton. Colton went on to tell Saul all about his money problems, death threats, eviction notices, and unfortunate hair loss. The story was being told in sporadic pieces, between long dry heaves and hysterical crying. Saul began to realize that Colton was playing upon his feelings, in preparation to ask for a favor. Soon enough, Colton implored that Saul help him settle some of his growing debts. Saul knew that hanging out with druggies and loan sharks might be bad for his resurfacing reputation, but he cared deeply for his friends, an exceedingly foolish trait.

They arrived at Venice Beach, a popular location for the businessmen that Colton conducted his business with. Saul believed that a plan too complex would end poorly, so mustered up all surviving courage and confronted the sharks face to face. The idyllic ocean view was destroyed by carping thoughts of the trench coat wearing goons putting a baseball bat to his face.

“You guys are going to have to stop bothering my friend here. We have nothing more to talk about,” said Saul.

He chose to take the upper hand in the conversation, which he thought would put the power in his court. The leader of the gang approached them, eyed them up and down, and spit. This sad excuse of a businessman hovered above the regretful duo, staring at Colton with a particular sense of superiority. Colton tried to speak.

“You know what, now that I think about it, I am supposed to be getting some mon-.”

Before he could finish, an undergoing of senseless beatings began to occur. As Saul lay helplessly, boot after boot being driven into his empty stomach, he wished of nothing more than a better group of friends. Unfortunately, this wish was a friend too late.





Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!

bRealTime banner ad on the left side
Site Feedback