By John Holmes
His voice was loud and authoritative. Threatening.
Stevie and I hunched down on the damp grass and offered our naked legs. The dirty old rope cut deep into our skin as we were ruthlessly lashed together.
I noticed a fair-haired man march past, expertly spinning a gun on his middle finger.
“On your feet,” instructed the rope man. Struggling, Stevie and I stood up as one.
“Follow Blondie.”
We hobbled over to the others.
“Ready?” shouted Blondie.
The sound of gunfire filled the air.
Like soldiers in battle, we immediately crashed to the muddy ground, despising our school’s annual three-legged race.
What a brilliant twist to a childhood memory story!
Thanks GJ. We’ve all been there.
I loved the twist. Brilliant. I have similar memories of the torture of sports days. Thank you
thanks Anne – that’s just where the story originated…in the corner of a cold sports field.
Great. I enjoyed the suspense and the twist.
Some sports days were actually murder!