by Jean Hendrickson
Stop crying — you know I didn’t mean to do it; you couldn’t stand her waaa-waaa-waaa crying, either. Now, we have to figure out where we’ll hide the body, so get the shovel and bring it down behind those trees while I find a soft place to dig. No one will believe it was an accident; they already think we’re both way bad. That’s your fault for sneaking cigarettes out of daddy’s car and tattling on me about everything. Here, give me the shovel, slowpoke; I’m much stronger than you are. Marissa grabbed the heavy instrument, hit him over the head - breaking his neck - then sweated in the cool air as she dug a huge hole, and then buried her brother along with their little sister’s Baby-Cry-Alot doll.
6S
Jean Hendrickson lives right on the beach of the beautiful Chesapeake Bay and consorts with writers in the hope their talent will rub off on her.
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Compound Fracture
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5 comments:
Lovely. I can't help thinking that's not the first time she's killed.
Nice little twist at the end. :)
Marissa is a very naughty girl! Jean is a very good writer.
Remind me to hide the shovels when I'm around you, Jean.
Jean,
You're just a little too good. Are you sure this really didn't happen?
Good work.
Jeanette Cheezum
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