What Philip Did in Tulsa

Philip cried out, “Please, no!”

A door crashed open somewhere behind him. Men shouted and Harvey shouted back. Philip felt a cool breeze rush over his bare skin. He couldn’t make out a word amid the frenzied din and fainted when the shooting started.


The detective with the pencil-thin moustache patted Philip’s shoulder. A uniformed officer stood behind the detective. The officer was staring past Philip, toward his rear end, watching and wincing. He looked ill.

“Right here, Philip, look at me.” The detective squatted and snapped his fingers in Philip’s face. “Concentrate on me, don’t worry about that.”

The searing, ripping pain made Philip sick. The detective jumped out of the way. “It’s OK, we’ll make you right. Don’t worry. There’s doctors waiting for you once we get you free. You don’t know how lucky you are that we got here in time.”

The detective looked Philip in the eye with an earnest intensity. “The man that kidnapped you was a convicted killer. I’ve kept my eye on him since he was released because I knew he wasn’t done yet.” The inspector looked down at his feet and shook his head and smoothed out the narrow, sculpted facial hair around his lips. “I knew we never should have let that monster out. Not after what he did to that poor girl.” He looked up at Philip again. “But we got him this time. Everything’s going to be fine. You just hang on.”

About me

This is me: home-writer, book-reader, dog-lover and occasional poet. I make this website to share my and my friends texts with You, dear Reader. Please: read carefully, don't be scary, upgrade your mood and be king and leave your comment. :)