John Jones
Stories (4/0)
Scarlet sunrise
The boy was terrified, his eyes conveying fear like that he had never known. He was four years old, and tied to a steel chair, a gag around his mouth, his tearful eyes staring at the man who stood by the doorway of the shed with a 7inch wildcat bowie knife, looking at the child with curiosity.
By John Jones7 months ago in Horror
Chickens
Playing truant was always appealing. Always. Two nine-year olds deep into their school days would always know better than what adults told them. Your years in school were not the best days of your life, and you don’t need to attend classes to get clever to get good jobs. They knew it all, so didn’t need to bother attending, and why do maths lessons and cross-country runs when it was much more appealing to play on railways?
By John Jones2 years ago in Fiction