Peeping Bomb

“I blew up the hospital!”

At first the reaction was stunned silence, as if they thought I was playing a cruel joke. A few whispers started, then several shouts. Those shouts brought out raised fists and suddenly the crowd began to believe what I told them. Perhaps it was my look more than my confession, but a little faith didn’t hurt. Regardless, as they began to work up their primal fury in a rage of frothing mouths, I felt the pocket of my coveralls, feeling the hard rims of the 3D glasses for the last time. Hands began to close in around me, tearing at my clothes and hair. As they threw me to the ground and shouted their pain through nonstop kicks and stomps to my body, I finally felt moisture surface in the crease of my eyes. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to make up for all the times I missed. My soul had come back, and now it would take me home. As hundreds of fists and feet thundered into my body, robbing me of breath but granting me more tears, I wondered.

Maybe Abigail would be waiting for me.

Probably not.

Where I was going would be too hot for her.

That was ok, because I knew dad would be there. I hoped the tears would last until then, so he could see for himself. Then he would stop laughing.





About me

This is me: home-writer, book-reader, dog-lover and occasional poet. I make this website to share my and my friends texts with You, dear Reader. Please: read carefully, don't be scary, upgrade your mood and be king and leave your comment. :)