These photos promote my new “Noir” crime story series, Clearwater.
Stairwell Dwelling.
“Good day, sir”, Frank said as the man left his apartment. “I’m here to take you in.”
Pose 2.
And it was just a matter of time until the bastard would show up.
Phantom in the Night.
There once was a violin player in Violin Rain, but the part of the city had borne its name long before him, and it would continue well into the future. The violin player was long gone.
Gate.
Standing outside was such a familiar position, and one that Frank had long become comfortable in. But ever so often, the object was getting inside – and he could hardly remember a time when that was easy.
Frank.
A tear rolled down Patrick’s cheek. “I know why you are here”, he said.
“I won’t resist.”
Fire Escape.
Another poor soul locked in the cages of the prison they had built for themselves. Frank came to free them from it. But there was no absolution where they were going.
Fence.
So many ghosts that humans can never bury. Frank had his own, and though they tortured him, he held them in his arms like fading lovers, marching on with the desperate hope they’d stay alive long enough for him to reach the end.
Experiment.
And when he gathered pace, it felt like he would never stop running. An old sensation.
Coming out of the Dark.
And then there were the fallen. The losers, the freaks, the outcasts. They just couldn’t be bothered.
Cloud.
A cloud of smoke obscures Frank Clearwater’s face, leaving his features up to the reader’s imagination.
Clearwater Running.
Frank ran to catch up with a crime he knew he could not stop. Getting Sternwick was a mere matter of consequence, and there was no triumph to be had from it.
Business Card – Design 3.
There once was a violin player in Violin Rain, but the part of the city had borne its name long before him, and it would continue well into the future. The violin player was long gone.
Clearwater Approaching.
They had flipped the lights out and lifted the curtain, but the show was out of their hands.
Business Card – Design 1.
Victory over death? The streetlights fled into the distance. Soon enough, they just stopped. And gave way to blackness.
Business Card – Design 2.
Frank had passed these houses so often. Now that he stood in front of their door, he wondered whether he would eventually see the insides of all Autumnfield houses. Life reared its ugly head.
Cigar Lighting.
Who would notice another fedora-wearing freak in the streets of this godforsaken town? Frank wondered if it was all cheap cigars and wine now and forever.
Approaching.
Once the hopeful child of a middle-class family, Frank had become a lone wanderer, sliding down the quest for closure.
Ahead.
The rain had left a thin stream of water on the pavement, running down into the gutter, forgotten like the blood of Stark’s victims.