The Boy

Sitting at home alone

Looking outside the window

In the pitch black of night.

The boy looks outside

With curiosity.

He sees shadows

That he doesn't know are real.

He thinks it's just some sort

Of animal lurking the perimeter of his house.

Seven years old

Or years young would you say?

The boy stands in silence

Wrapped in a torn blanket.

He puts his hands up on the

Cold glass of the chilled window

Trying to see outside with a better view.

Then without him knowing

When he looks away

A strange man walks through the door.

The boy looks up at the man, confused.

With a flick of the man's wrist

The boy sees something small and shiny

In his hand.

Little does the boy know that

The man was there to kill him.

As the man moves closer

To that poor inocent young boy.

With all the racket and screaming

The boy fights to be free.

But sadly he fails at his escape.

The man walks away with bloody hands,

Bloody clothes, and a smirk on his face.

It's sad to say that poor young boy

Died that faithful night.

And the only thing that remains is

His limp body

And the crushed heart

Of the ones who love him.

 

 

Reviews

[StoryTailor]

I don't really know if this is a story.... but I suppose it could be. Regardless of what it is, I think it could have been better. There could have been more emotion, or more of... something. I don't know. But every piece ever written could use a little more of something! There's no such thing as a perfect piece of writing. It was a good piece, and it was enjoyable. So I commend you for that.