Playground Murder

17 1 3
                                    

  Caleb hid behind the yellow, plastic slide. His face was pale, his muscles were stiff, his skin was cold with fear. The gentle breeze touched his cheeks. It felt real good, but he couldn't enjoy it. Not under the circumstances.

  The kids were out there. Their feet grew ever near. Their voices whispered. Their eyes looked for poor little Caleb. 

  They planned to murder him. 

  A little pack of little children marched down the playground. A gun rested in their grips and hate rested in their eyes. 

  A strong box wrapped itself around Caleb so that he couldn't move a limb. His body locked itself into one shape as the fear increased. Adrenaline made him stiff. He thought he would die. He knew they wanted him dead, and he even knew why. He had broken the rules. 

  But Caleb's heart crushed his chest at the thought. 

  The bright sun sparked on the playground, glittered on glass windows. Clouds hung magically in the air. And fright hung amazingly in his mind. 

  "I'm gonna die!" he thought.

  Tears slashed down his cheeks, dripping from his soft, vulnerable eyes. His soft skin already stung. He knew they'd shoot him. He could already feel it. 

  "Help me God! PLEASEEE! PLEASE!!!"

  The pack grew closer. 

  "PLEASE!"

  Closer.

  "DON'T LET ME DIE!!!"

  The first bullet broke through the air, zoomed forward. The metal bead ripped a small hole in Caleb's left shoulder. Blood flowed out, dripping on the boy's shirt to create a red-gulp of a stain.  A scream flew out of his throat. The scream screeched in ears, tore through sound barriers. An explosion of feeling came out in one loud, raging scream. 

  Another bullet drilled straight through his head, bringing the squealing little boy to a silence. 



  

Playground MurderWhere stories live. Discover now