The Wall

It was a hot day, but he didn’t really know it. How could he?

He was in a cold, damp basement, staring at his handiwork. The new wall section looked almost perfect. He’d remove the stain later, he thought.

Tom would be missed, but only by his family. No one really liked Tom. He was a bully and a sore loser. With Tom gone, every kid smaller than him would feel safe.

Yes, the world without Tom would be a joy, he thought out loud. What a feeling it was, to be able to beat up Tom, the same guy who’d given him fourteen stitches and gotten away with it.

He’d barely resisted. Then again, he was already unconscious. Chloroform usually did have that effect.

Oh, that Tom. What a royal pain. But the wall. My, my, my.

It looked magnificent. The blood red on the brick, the powdered, bony white in the cement, a lovely complement to the grey.

But that little stain would have to be cleaned off. What on Earth had Tom eaten for lunch??

Still, it was hilarious, the way his tiny stomach had exploded into oblivion when he’d stuck the firecracker into it.

Your regular blood and goo B-grade horror movie would have been shamed.

A job well done, he thought, patting his own back as he climed the stairs.

The wall looked magnificent.


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