It’s three in the morning, the orange sulfur lamps bleach the black sky, and for a moment I think it’s the sun rising over the skyline, but then the darkness recedes back into my vision. It’s always night here; this place never sleeps . . .
To celebrate the release of Buffalo Noir, the latest in Akashic’s Noir Series, we’re pleased to give you a look at coeditor Ed Park’s own personal Buffalo noir with his introduction, “Ice-Cold Stories.”
Whenever I start a restoration project, I take before-photos, and when I finish, I take after-shots . . .
Brigid Quinlan clutched the corduroy sleeve of Russell Townsend’s blazer and sneered at the herd of journalists being restrained by two burly policemen. She smiled smugly as she and Townsend breezed past them. “Fuck you all,” she whispered under her breath . . .
Fans of Ian F. Svenonius, take note: Ian is embarking on a nationwide tour to promote Censorship Now!!
The pain was an explosion of red at the base of his skull. His mouth was bitter, like burnt coal. Ernesto Dela Cruz slowly opened his eyes. He had to, he wasn’t dead. Yet . . .
I am sitting in Row A, Seat 1, dressed in a double-breasted dark oxford gray suit, a plain white shirt, and a dark blue silk tie . . .
Robbing the liquor store went well. Took less than a minute. Alex didn’t even need to shoot his gun at all . . .