Wanna know what a dead boy looks like?

Anne Wilson knocked on her friend's door. "Can Amanda come out to play?"

Amanda and Anne were best friends from kindergarten. They were both eight now, and the summers were filled with normal kid stuff... most of the time. Anne had begun to act funny lately though, so Amanda tried to get out of playing, but her mother ruined it for her, saying 'of course she should go and enjoy this fine summer day.'

"So, what are we going to do today then Anne?"

"We are going to the park. There will be lots of other kids there to play with."

They strolled along, not really even talking much until they got to the park. Anne ran over to the merry-go-round where another school mate was playing. Her name was Cindy, and she was a little mouse of a girl, way smaller than Anne.

Anne smiled and winked at Amanda and brought her hands around Cindy's neck, squeezing for all she was worth. Amanda bounded over and struggled with Anne, trying to break her hold. When she finally got her off of the girl, she reproached Anne with words an adult would use... never, ever, how dare you, what do you think you're doing?'

"Oh come off it, she doesn't feel that anyway. I enjoy hurting things that can't fight back." she said.

Amanda was, at that moment, very afraid of Anne, but she said no more and continued playing at the park until summoned to dinner by her mother.

The next day, Anne came to Amanda saying she wanted to show her what a dead boy looks like. When they arrived at an abandoned house, there were police cars all around. Amanda followed Anne to a room where a little boy lay on the floor, bruises on his neck and she thought of the park the day before.

"I did it, and if you tell anyone about it, I'll say you did it." Anne said with such force that Amanda had no doubt she'd do it.

On the way home, they stopped at little Brian's house, Amanda thinking they would pay their respects to his aunt, but when the woman opened the door, Anne said, "Is Brian here?" But "no, Brian won't be playing anymore, they found him dead," the woman said, and Anne said, "Do you miss Brian so?"

That night, Amanda stayed the night with Anne because her mother had to be out of town, and Amanda was still too afraid to make excuses, so she just did as she was told. Amanda wanted to play on the school grounds, so they ended up breaking in, and Anne wrote notes about murder on the blackboard.

The police came around and wanted to talk to both girls separately the next day, knowing that they were the ones who broke into the school, being seen by some other children.

Amanda and Anne refused to say they'd done any wrong, and being coached the last night by Anne, their stories were much the same and so nothing was made of it and they were both let go, but the officers were suspicious and watched them as best they could.

One week later, the two were at an abandoned work site, where lots of children played among the large stacks of concrete and muddy hills. They found a child by the name of Sam there, and Anne coaxed him behind some debris. When Amanda finally climbed back there, Sam was already dead. Anne carved an A into his chest with a razor. "If you tell, it'll look like you did it; after all, your name starts with an A too."

When the neighborhood began to look for missing Sam, it was all too much for Anne; they just weren't doing it right. "Sir," she said to a policeman, "I've seen Sam over there many times, playing in the dirt with his little cars." And she pointed to the place where she knew they'd see him.

It was all too much for Amanda also, and so she caved in and spilled the beans about the whole ordeal of Brian and Sam, throwing in the strangling of Cindy for good measure. There was a trial and Anne was found guilty of murder.

"Brian didn't have a mother, so he won't be missed, and murder isn't that bad, we all die sometime anyway."

"No Sugar, No Spice, Nothing Nice"
Copyright: © 2009 Chris Bartholomew
Chris Bartholomew
Publisher - Static Movement e-zine www.staticmovement.com
Head Writer, Serial Killer Magazine, http://serialkillercalendar.com/
Member; The Dark Fiction Guild Member; International Order of Horror Professionals.
MySpace http://www.myspace.com/horristchris
Credits http://www.staticmovement.com/Credits.htm

1 comment:

  1. This is just the story of Mary Bell, right down to carving the letter on the child. You have even quoted directly from her police interviews. Does this count as original work when it is purely true?