Death of a Bully

The two boys watched from the ridge as the cops and the medical examiner worked over the body.

“Do you think they’ll believe it was just an accident?”

“If you don’t want to spend the next six years in juvie, you better hope they do.”

“I didn’t want him to die, just teach him a lesson.”

“That can’t be changed now. He’s dead and won’t be beating up anyone ever again.” Just as I planned.

 * * *

“Was it an accident, Doc?”

“It looks like it. This lot has always been a dumping ground. It’s a miracle no kids have died before this with all this trash around.”

“I can’t help feeling something is off about the way he landed on that glass.”

“You’re over-thinking things again. And you’d have a devil of a time finding any evidence otherwise in all this trash.”

“Yeah,” the cop sighed. “Go ahead and load him up, boys.”

 * * *

The boys watched as the ambulance drove away, then turned and went separate ways. One went home, ate supper and never thought about the incident again; the other went home, said he wasn’t hungry, then went to his room and waited for the cops to show up.

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I wrote this story for Sunday Photo Fiction. The idea of Sunday Photo Fiction is to create a story / poem or something using about 200 words with the photo as a guide. If you want to read more entries for this week, click on the blue frog below.