Originally Posted by
Goliath
The detective walked into the room, consumed by a young girl's doom,
no words produced, just a tingling chill as he continues to lurk for clues.
No smirk, askew, he circles the corpse like a wolf dancing in the dark,
glancing at her scars, his brain spinning thread like a spider making art.
Breaking his heart, she's no older than the daughter he buried last year,
glass tears dripping down both cheeks and soaking into his brass beard.
Emily pointed it out already, you got the dark detective voice pretty well down. The wounded soul, perhaps an alcoholic. A real traditional detective type. Wolf dancing in the dark, spider making art was real cool. I like those kinds of things because of their poetic nature. Nice quick way to drop in the daughter and add an element of sympathy for the detective and paint him as person with multiple dimensions.
Ash smeared around her eyes, an empty gaze like she'd died hypnotized,
blind... crystallized... either way he's amazed by the bride victimized.
A sight visualized by some sadistic fiend, it's haunting the detective,
taunting his perspectives, this entire case has been a daunting collection.
A vaunting inspection... he's observing her pearl necklace of bruises,
becoming a restless nuisance, fighting the odds and wretched confusion.
Depression... delusions begin filling his head until it's ready to erupt,
neither steady nor defunct, he's balancing it out but is heavily corrupt.
Pearl necklace of bruises, yeah I don't know if that was the right wording. It was a cool attempt, a cool play at the wording and that's something we have to do to get better as writers. Hell, someone else might think that was dope. I just think it felt off-putting. Not the right tone as I kind of laughed when this is clearly meant to be dark, and somber. Also unnecessarily sexual when we didn't need it. Still, that's the only main problem I really had with the rest of your writing here. A man vs himself, vs his thoughts. Struggling to come to grips with the sight before him and the death of his daughter. That's heartfelt.
Meddling, debunk, his tactics slowly become questionable and unjust,
eligible distrust, the force is starting to think he's an unmanageable judge.
A damnable bust, pacing back and forth with ice cubes melting in a cup,
helping ain't enough, something inside him keeps yelling with a grudge.
He hears her yelping in her blood, hitting himself hoping she'd be quiet,
his dreams become violent, imagining his cigar burning between eyelids.
A movie in silence, every piece of evidence seems to lead him nowhere,
like road flares without an accident, he's distracted by her cold stare.
Hope wears thin as it becomes a cold case, but he's determined to hold pace,
no way he's quitting when the killer's living in the city his own raised.
A cop so determined to find a killer due to the connections that have built him to the point he is today. That's a great bridge, a good piece of transformation story wise. He wants the killer to be taken into justice so the dreams will stop. "Are the lambs still screaming, Clarice?" The way you described it made me think of The Silence of the Lambs. And we feel the frustration when the case goes cold. No justice, just the cold sense of failure and loneliness.
A stone gaze in the mirror, is it fear or is he beginning to understand,
it wasn't another man that killed her... in fact... she's an asunder plan.
A reflection of his daughter that's stronger than his sense of reality,
the dense actuality that he can't let go of her death, he pretends casually.
He depends tactfully on solving mysteries from his history of tragedies,
his misery, a casualty of loss caused by life withering and catastrophes.
The delivery of blasphemy as he's guilty and God won't let him forget,
each sin suppressed, his palms are red and conscious dimmed gwith regret.
Buried his daughter and now he relives that night over and over again,
sober or unhinged, she's stuck looking over his shoulder, condemned.
Hm. I'm not a hundred percent sure what to make of the finale here. It's a strong finale, this is true. I wonder... did he kill his own daughter? If that's the case, well shit, we really have a story here. A dark as fuck one too. Corrupt cop burying himself into his work trying to bring scumbag killers, thieves, rapists to justice in order to alleviate the guilt he has for what he did to his daughter which could also explain why he's so affected by the dead girl he's investigating. Of course, it could still be he simply lost his daughter. His daughter was killed, and now another. He feels doubly guilty and the regret of not catching the fucker is killing him. 'Palms are red' indicating he feels the death is on his hands. Perhaps literally, perhaps figuratively, perhaps both. O think you could have let it end on that line and the results would be sticking with us even more in that ending. Anyway. Great job.