Written for
muse_playground
"What about the kid?"
"Leave him. He won't be able to tell them who we are."
"What if he does?"
The little boy was snatched up and shaken violently by the man who'd just murdered his father. His eyes were wide with fear and confusion as he stared into the face of a monster.
"If you say anything, we kill you and we kill your mother," the man grunted at the child. "You understand?"
Terrified, the boy quickly nodded but didn't struggle. He would do anything to protect his mother from the fate that had befallen his father.
The man dropped the boy to the sand. "Good." He looked at his companion, the boy seemingly forgotten now. "Let's go."
Waiting until the men were out of sight, the little boy started sobbing as he scrambled over to where his father was lying face down on the ground. Blood was flowing into the sand from a wound to his head, and the little boy started screaming and calling out for his father to wake up. His hand was too small to stop the bleeding when he pressed it to the wound, but still he tried to help him.
"Dad! Daddy! Wake up! Please!!" He shook him, he hit him, and he shouted at him until his throat hurt. In the fear and panic, it never occurred to him to run and find help. The blow to the head was fatal and his father was dead the moment it landed, so even if the boy had run, it would have been impossible to save the man.
He's dead. He's dead. He's--
"No..." the boy wailed, pulling on the back of his father's shirt. "NO!!"
The police found the boy and his dead father on their patrol just before sunset. When they asked the child what had happened, he had looked up at them, his face dirty, smeared with sand and blood, and simply shook his head. He'd been warned.
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"What about the kid?"
"Leave him. He won't be able to tell them who we are."
"What if he does?"
The little boy was snatched up and shaken violently by the man who'd just murdered his father. His eyes were wide with fear and confusion as he stared into the face of a monster.
"If you say anything, we kill you and we kill your mother," the man grunted at the child. "You understand?"
Terrified, the boy quickly nodded but didn't struggle. He would do anything to protect his mother from the fate that had befallen his father.
The man dropped the boy to the sand. "Good." He looked at his companion, the boy seemingly forgotten now. "Let's go."
Waiting until the men were out of sight, the little boy started sobbing as he scrambled over to where his father was lying face down on the ground. Blood was flowing into the sand from a wound to his head, and the little boy started screaming and calling out for his father to wake up. His hand was too small to stop the bleeding when he pressed it to the wound, but still he tried to help him.
"Dad! Daddy! Wake up! Please!!" He shook him, he hit him, and he shouted at him until his throat hurt. In the fear and panic, it never occurred to him to run and find help. The blow to the head was fatal and his father was dead the moment it landed, so even if the boy had run, it would have been impossible to save the man.
He's dead. He's dead. He's--
"No..." the boy wailed, pulling on the back of his father's shirt. "NO!!"
The police found the boy and his dead father on their patrol just before sunset. When they asked the child what had happened, he had looked up at them, his face dirty, smeared with sand and blood, and simply shook his head. He'd been warned.