The Snevets Stories

The Snevets Stories 5

Posted in The Snevets Stories on December 16th, 2019 by buzzing wire – Be the first to comment

Once Snevets had to chase me. It was a strange inversion. I’d found his pen during one of our pursuits. He wanted it back. A pen? Why did it matter? I didn’t understand, but I knew it was connected with his power. He wasn’t full Snevets without it.

Things moved slowly. He knew he was being baited with it. I wanted him. He wanted his pen.  It was coquettish. Sometimes I would catch his crow eye as a reflection in the mirror in the morning, or the crest of his black hat behind a hedge. The whole thing was awkward really. Sort of high school prom. I didn’t know how to run. He didn’t know how to chase.

Even though Snevets was physically imposing, I knew he was avoiding an encounter with me. Honestly, I had never seen him touch anyone. I talked the situation over with my superior. He said I needed to risk something. It was suggested I might need to release the pen from my person to break the stalemate. We decided to stage a scene in my bedroom. The pen would be on my side table while I pretended to sleep. We’d have one man in my bathroom. And another monitoring the bedroom door from a hidden position in a hallway closet. Around the house would be a covert perimeter of five men. Snevets had to know a trap was set for him. I just hoped that the minimal security would entice him to take his chances. He probably wouldn’t even show.

That night waiting, fully dressed under my sheets, I thought a lot. Why did Snevets do these things? And why did I spend so much time trying to catch him? Was it worth all this? My thoughts were interrupted by a slow heavy tread coming from the hall. The steps seemed to take forever. Snevets had taught me patience if nothing else.

Once I was sure Snevets was in the room I shouted in my radio. The bathroom door flung open the light was blinding for a second. The man from the closet showed up in the door to the hallway and I had sprung out of bed. Snevets was surrounded. We all looked at each other. None of us could believe it was finally over. I spoke to Snevets.

“I’ve waited so long.”

Snevets listened for a second and then repeated my words to me, “I’ve waited so long.” Only it was like he had slowed the words down in his saying them. I struggle to describe what really happened in that bedroom. It was one of his language games. Each of the words was struck and allowed to ring as if we were examining the resonance. The two officers and I started to move to apprehend him but could move no faster than the speed of his utterance. By the time the last word had rung out, Snevets, seemingly immune to all this, had pocketed his pen and made it into the hallway. My only hope was that the five-man perimeter would pick him up on his way out. In my heart I knew they wouldn’t.


The Snevets Stories 4

Posted in The Snevets Stories on August 24th, 2015 by buzzing wire – Be the first to comment

I found myself wondering what would Snevets say. It was at a dinner party seventeen years after my last encounter with the old man. The conversation was only half interesting. Maybe that is why Snevets came to mind. He could always turn a half interesting question into something you would miss work to think about. I have to say as much as he vexed me, I miss him.

It shouldn’t be surprising, but most of the criminals we investigate are painfully boring. They wouldn’t even make it as TV level villains. I watch cop movies feeling jealous, knowing that the protagonist, for the two hours the film lasts, lives inside the one interesting case of his career. Win or lose, that means something. I watch, the investigator is scared, frustrated, dogged, but I want to whisper, “You’ve found your Snevets. Enjoy, just a little.” ‘Just a little’ because it is not really a joy at all to investigate your Snevets.

I wonder if Snevets remembers me at all. Is it the same for criminals? Did Snevets yawn through hordes of incompetent police looking for me. I am sad now and it is this thought. If Snevets is alive, I am too old to chase him.

The Snevets Stories 3

Posted in The Snevets Stories on October 22nd, 2012 by buzzing wire – Be the first to comment

There was one time we caught wind that Snevets was haunting some old industrial complex out off Back road. We took three cars of agents, twelve men in all. I warned the men about Snevets and split them into six teams. No use in having solo agents trying to track. Snevets is not your ordinary hunt and detain, and besides not one of them had more than 4 years on the force. We’d be lucky if we even sighted him. Everyone was miked and told to radio in their position. I sent them through the complex in teams, as I said. I kept watch by the gate, coordinating. It was dusk and the light was failing. The hangars around the place looked like great shadows, and the sky was assuming a darker and darker blue. I could see nothing, but the silhouette of a chain and the outline of the buildings. Snevets could be anywhere. Ten minutes had passed and no one had radioed in. I went to the car to get a thermos. Snevets! He was in one of the cars. I rushed towards the door, but heard the automatic locks engage. The keys were with one of the other agents. I spoke into my lapel. Snevets had the time it took the keys to return to effect his escape. The cabin overhead went on. I saw him comb through the elbow rest and glove compartment looking for paper, anything. He found the back of an unfinished report. My jaw tightened. His hand went into his sport coat and brought out a pen. I rested my body against one on the other cars. The keys would never make it back in time. All I could do was watch him write. I was too disappointed to yell anything through the window. By the time the man arrived with the keys, Snevets was no more than warm upholstery. I thought to myself how can he do all that with only a pen? I got the men back in the cars and headed back to the agency, to the cracks that awaited. Was Snevets trying to humiliate me?

The Snevets Stories 2

Posted in The Snevets Stories on September 10th, 2012 by buzzing wire – Be the first to comment

Snevets went around the house. We followed close, but not conspicuous. He was looking for a window, no doubt. Something to make it into the house by. “Make it into by” pay attention to the phrase. Snevets was wicked with phrases. We came around the corner in time to see his feet disappearing into the house. I said watch out, this is not like Snevets. Something must be up. At least we know he’s in the house. Spread out. Circle the place. You know the signal if he tries to break our perimeter. No mistakes on this one, we might not get this chance again. We waited for a long time. Snevets was going to make it hurt.

Dark came. I was circling the perimeter checking endurance. It was failing. Desperate, I snuck on to the porch. The house was lit inside–nobody in the front room. I decided to scale the porch to look into the second story windows. I’m old and tired. I swore at Snevets under my breath. His name was perfect to curse, and its language took over making it hard to climb. Looking in the second story window, I saw Snevets standing over a desk in a study. Under him was a small girl, no more than thirteen, writing. I saw Snevets’ mouth moving. He was dictating to her. The pencil looked enormous in her small hand. How long could they keep this up? We had been waiting for five hours. What were they writing? Neither of them looked tired. Snevets hadn’t even loosened his tie. He spoke slowly, and was spelling some of the words. I could see him mouth them a letter at a time. Knowing Snevets, this could go on a while. I was going to have to relieve the men.

The Snevets Stories 1

Posted in The Snevets Stories on July 30th, 2012 by buzzing wire – Be the first to comment

A Snevets story: any story in which the point of view is an investigating officer, and the protagonist, Snevets, is committing sinister crimes of composition. Peculiar to these pursuer/pursued stories is that the investigating officer never catches Snevets. At each cornering Snevets manages to write his way out of trouble. Also Snevets’ crimes of language are never made concrete–the exact nature of his transgression is never revealed.