“I’m from Detroit, man, what the hell’s your—”
The second blow caught his ribs. Air vanished from his lungs.
Three men surrounded him now. Faces shadowed. One holding a crowbar. Another a bat. The third just watching, grinning like this was Saturday night entertainment.
“Boy think he lost?” one of them sneered.
“This ain’t your city,” another spat.
The first bat cracked against Paul’s jaw. Teeth snapped together. He tasted blood immediately.
He tried to stay on his feet, tried to push back, but the crowbar caught his leg and folded him to the ground. Gravel dug into his cheek.
The hits didn’t stop.
Wood. Metal. Boots.
Each impact duller than the last, like his body couldn’t keep up with the damage. Voices blurred together above him, thick with beer and laughter and the kind of hate that didn’t need thinking.
“Teach you—”
“Wrong town—”
“Should’ve kept driving—”
Paul tried to crawl. Managed maybe two inches before another strike slammed into the back of his head, sending sparks across his vision.
The world tilted sideways.
Sound went hollow.
Somewhere far away, Funkadelic still played faint through the Trans-Am speakers, the bassline drifting into the night like a memory already leaving him behind.
He lay there barely moving now, chest struggling for breath that wouldn’t come right.
The men stood over him, catching their own breath, laughing like they’d just finished a backyard game. One popped open a beer. Foam hissed.
“Man,” the watcher said, wiping sweat from his neck, “look at him.”
Another nudged Paul’s side with his boot. No response except a shallow, broken inhale.
Jake was the one who said it. Voice casual. Almost thoughtful.
“Hook a rope to him.”
The others looked at him.
Jake shrugged, already moving toward the truck bed. “What? We already started. Might as well finish it proper.”
Nobody argued.
They worked quick.
Rough hands. Rope scraping. A knot tightened at Paul’s neck, another loop fixed to the truck’s hitch.
For a second, just one, Paul’s eyes opened halfway. Not strength. Just instinct clawing back for air.
The truck lurched forward.
The rope snapped tight.
And the road took him.
Gravel tore at his clothes first. Then skin.
The world became a blur of sparks, dirt, and black sky spinning above him. Sound stretched into one long tearing roar.
Inside the truck, laughter rose loud, bottles clinking, music from their radio fighting with the engine as they sped down the empty rural road dragging a human life behind them like trash tied to a bumper.
Miles passed that way.
When they finally stopped, the road had long since given way to nothing but trees and darkness.
The woods stood thick and silent, branches tangled like they were trying to keep secrets.
They cut the rope and let what remained of Paul’s body slump into the dirt.
Nobody said much now. The excitement had burned off. This part was just cleanup.
Gasoline splashed from a can. The smell sharp in the night air.
Jake flicked a lighter once. Twice. Flame caught steady on the third try.
He tossed it down.
Fire took quick.
Orange light leapt upward, licking at the dark, crackling through the stillness while the men climbed back into the truck and drove off, taillights shrinking until the woods swallowed them whole.
The flames burned until there was nothing left to burn.
They found him three days later.
Campers. Father and son hiking off trail chasing the idea of deer tracks.
The smell hit first.
Authorities arrived, tape went up, photographs taken, notes scribbled. Words like tragic, unfortunate, unclear circumstances floated through official reports.
No witnesses.
No suspects.
No arrests.
SUNDOWN
Coming soon to Amazon Kindle March 11th
Reading the intense and gripping excerpt from "SUNDOWN," I was immediately drawn into the raw realism of urban violence and the struggle for survival that it portrays. The vivid descriptions and disturbing scenes of brutality serve not just as shock elements but as a reflective lens into the darker realities some face in cities like Detroit. This story highlights how quickly a night can turn from routine to life-threatening, stressing the vulnerability of individuals caught in hostile environments. Beyond the immediate narrative, the theme of resilience stands out. Paul’s desperate attempts to survive against overwhelming odds reflect the human spirit’s fight against oppression and violence. This resonates with many real-life urban encounters where strength and quick thinking can mean the difference between life and death. Moreover, the depiction of the attackers as embodying a toxic mixture of hatred, territorialism, and cruelty offers a profound commentary on social divisions and the violence bred by them. It reminds me of countless true crime stories where such motives fuel vicious acts with devastating consequences. The haunting final scenes, including the use of the rope and fire to conceal evidence, underscore the grim lengths to which perpetrators go to evade justice. This adds a layer of realism and sorrow, as it reflects the challenges law enforcement faces with unsolved cases and the silence of witnesses. As someone who enjoys urban fiction and crime thrillers, I appreciate how Marcel Ellis doesn’t shy away from exposing brutal truths, yet his storytelling is also a call for awareness and change. Readers looking for a novel that combines gritty realism with psychological tension and social commentary will find "SUNDOWN" a compelling addition to their collection. Anticipating its release on Amazon Kindle, I’m eager to see how the story unfolds beyond this intense segment, especially how the protagonist’s journey continues and whether justice will be served amid the shadows of the city’s Sundown. This book promises to be a powerful exploration of survival, identity, and the quest for vengeance in an unforgiving world.
