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A Story Every Day in 2024 Dec 1st 345/366

By Rachel DeemingPublished 2 years ago • Updated 2 years ago • 2 min read
Bag
Photo by Morgan Vander Hart on Unsplash

Bethan looked at Christine's shocked face as she got up from where she'd been sat and went over to her. You're not the only one who can act, Dave, she thought. With her back to him, Bethan mouthed Trust me and hoped that would be enough to get Christine on board.

Christine went over to Dave, staring at him the whole time. "You kick me and I'll break your face," she said and marvelled at the authentic way it came out and also the fear on Dave's face.

"What are you going to do?!" he said, his arms completely numb and leaden. He only had his legs to use.

Christine shrugged noncommittally which was more threatening than a detailed description. It said, " I don't know and I don't care."

Bethan was scouting. She needed a place near to the edge of the quarry to position Dave. Her plan was to lay him down, facing the slope, foot in his back. With one forceful shove, he could meet his death. Fear may make his mask shift and allow him to save himself with the truth. It was as good a plan as any.

Satisfied with the place she'd found, she turned round. As she did, a movement caught her eye. A carrier bag, snagged on the fence. She went over to it and managed to remove it. She held it, contemplating threatening Dave with that rather than moving him - over his face, air cut off, gasping for breath - and then shook her head at the violence that had just casually entered her head. No. That was not her. However, stretching it out and twisting it lengthways to craft a makeshift rope to tie around Dave's ankles was definitely more her style.

"Look what I found!" Bethan shouted as she came back. "Let's secure those legs." To Christine: "Hold him while I tie him."

Dave attempted to thrash but with no strength in his top half and his legs pinioned he was easily subdued. Christine hissed at him to stop. "It'll all be over soon," she added.

Dave stilled. He needed to think. Let them think they were in control...

"Right," Bethan said. "Let's go."

***

366 words

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MicrofictionMysteryPsychological

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Rachel Deeming

Storyteller. Poet. Reviewer. Traveller.

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    Written by Rachel Deeming