By S. Webb
He was prowling the river path when he heard the screams. A group of young hockey players had ignored the thin ice warning signs. Their pleas were frantic as their teammate struggled in the frigid water. An ominous crack sounded under George’s feet as he inched forward. Desperately, he grabbed the outreached hand. With a heroic effort, he propelled the boy across the ice and closer to the shore and safety. As dark water closed over his own eyes, George’s last thought was of Mother. She had always said to him he was worthless. The world didn’t need him for anything.
Fine story, but why was he prowling, not walking. Keeps the readers guessing. Kudos.
The editor and I went back and forth on the emphasis for the story. As a result I gave a hint of perhaps the morals of the character so therefore the word prowling. Makes one wonder why he was prowling as you stated. Thank you for picking up on that and thank you for reading!
You definitely left us wondering about George’s character. But you left no doubt about how horrible his mother must have been. Excellent piece.
Thank you!
Nice work!
Thank you!
I felt sad. That dying thought crushed me.
It was sad but in his death he redeemed himself. At least in his own eyes. Thank you for reading and for the comment.
This is so sad. Well done.
Poor George!
Simple and effective. Great job!
Take that, Mother! Rest well, George.