As part of a challenge with Auri, we’ve both sent each other three photos and are going to write three pieces of creative writing based off each photo! All of my stories are connected, and here is my final piece, based off of the following photo:
Simon was a trusting child. He had always been that way. A blissful childhood full of strawberry kisses and warm, sun-showered hugs tended to do that to children.
He was so trusting, that when the strange woman asked him to take her hand and follow her someplace fun and exciting, he didn’t even question it for a second.
Simon remembered how very warm and strong that woman’s greasy grip was. The way she forced him forwards, with not-so-tender pushes towards a very scary, very dangerous alleyway what Simon had never gone down before.
Wayward needles, bin bags and rotting rubbish littered the street, leaving an unpleasant smell Simon couldn’t pinpoint, spreading through the smoke and ash. His brand new red trainers, which he had so pestered his mother to buy, were already filthy from the caked mud spread over them. He had tripped twice, his grazed knee burning. But the woman wouldn’t stop, no matter how much Simon now began to plea.
Please, missus, please. I’m hurt miss, I’ve hurt ma’ leg real bad and I think I need a plaster on it.
His cries for help were silenced by the howling of the sharp-toothed dogs in the street. They raced round, growling in a way that reminded Simon why he was so scared of dogs. Connor had always made fun of him for it, but as he watched the two feral creatures reach for each other’s necks, fighting over the last remainder of a rats carcass, he realised his fears weren’t so stupid after all. At least he wasn’t scared of frogs, like Austin was.
Now that was a stupid fear, Simon thought to himself, I wonder where Connor and Austin are, right now.
By this point, the woman was practically dragging Simon along the floor. A shred of thin plastic had gotten caught in the knots of his shoes, making an uneasy scraping noise as it danced above the ground. But she wouldn’t stop. She still kept pulling Simon along, the urgency growing only greater as her breaths deepened and the sweat dripped from her brow.
Simon decided in that moment that he didn’t trust this lady anymore.
Excuse me missus, he began, trying to pry her fingers from his arm one by one. I really need to go. My brothers are probably wondering where I am. We were busy playin-
The woman snapped her head around, her watery eyes and bulging cheeks made Simon feel sick. She never even said anything. With one fatal swoop, she picked him up into her arms, and dashed to the dilapidated, black Honda in the shadows of a closed off motel.
Simon, his parents would later find out, never came out of that car alive. Simon was not given strawberry kisses or sun-showered hugs in that dismal, blood-stained car. No amount of strawberry kisses or sun-showered hugs could make up for the monstrous things that took place in that claustrophobic torture chamber. What happened to Simon is unrepeatable.
And Connor and Austin would not find out the exact details of what happened for a long time, not until they were well into their adult years, and thought together on one sad, grey day, when the rain hung listlessly in the sky:
What exactly happened to our favourite little brother?
Thanks again to Auri for the challenge! I really enjoyed doing this ^_^
Copyright © 2017 Rebecca Sherratt