The Runner

So, here’s an entry into the weekly Flash! Friday contest I wrote up, but felt like it just wasn’t working the way I wanted it to. I’m going to go back to the proverbial drawing board for that contest and just submit this initial idea here because it’s my blog and why not? We were given various themes to choose from and I chose “man vs. man” and “prohibition.”  We also get 155 words max. My entry:

Marion wasn’t from the streets. He hadn’t been molded by the hum of the big city like the others.

The other runners, with cigarette smoke always coming out of their mouths, were waiting in a back alley for Hector, a thick Spaniard that ran the operation.

The runner’s’ job was simple: move the alcohol from Point A to Point B without the boys in blue interrupting that trajectory.

Hector handed Marion three bottles of bootlegged moonshine and with his eyes, seemed to spit at Marion.

“Suburbs made you soft, kid,” Hector said, with an accent that made soft sound like “soff.”

Unbeknownst to Marion, Hector had intentionally tipped off one of the boys in blue as a test; it was time to see if the kid could adapt to the streets.

But unknown to Hector, Marion was one of Hoover’s men, being tested to take down his first smuggling ring.

Blood would run that night.

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