Short Story Of Michael Brennan

The sounds, the smell, the sights, the buzz of conversations and laughter, all enveloped in a sea of melancholy and eerie jazz music, assaulted the man's eardrums as dusk turned to night, and the final rays of the sun lit up the sky in an incandescent, orange glow. Michael Brennan had yet to become accustomed to New Orléans, and he continually shifted his bright green eyes to appraise the dolls and trinkets, flared his nostrils to enjoy the aroma of gumbo and spice, and smiled at the men and women of all ages, who attempted, in their lyrical voices, to entice him closer with the promise of magic as he walked. The patois of the locals was obviously distinguishable from the tourists who crowded the streets, lined the porches on the floors of …show more content…
A magical doll. How could people still follow superstition in such enlightened times? Did they really believe in what they spoke of, or did they keep the tradition alive only for the benefit of tourists, to make a living, and, in turn, the privileged whites purchased the items, not from desire, need or belief but from a misguided sense of charity or sympathy for the …show more content…
The first two before he'd arrived in the city a month previously with wife Amy in tow, then the others since, in ever increasing succession. All with husbands, wives, girlfriends, boyfriends or parents who'd frantically proclaimed them missing when they hadn't returned home as expected. Only a day had passed with the first before authorities had begun to investigate with every resource at their disposal; if it had been blacks, that may have been a week, or a month, possibly not at all; and a task-force immediately formed once the second had been reported, but no progress had been made. It was as they'd disappeared off the face of the Earth, and no reasons for their disappearances or commonalities between them had been uncovered. If it hadn't been for one cryptic phone call, Michael would have been as clueless as the authorities. He may well still be, this wasn't the first anonymous tip he'd received, all of which had turned out to be dead-ends or practical jokes, but experience had taught the seasoned reporter to investigate every lead, and follow up each call and off-the-cuff remark, no matter how small or insignificant it