Short Story

Desperate Times

Written for Kevin’s No Theme Thursday 10.31.24.
We’re offered incredibly creative images to inspire
and get our writing juices flowing. This is my story
.

Ā© Kevin @ No Theme Thursday

He knew time was running out. One stupid slip up and now the screws were on to him. He could feel the walls closing in. All his usual haunts were being watched; there was no safe place for him to lie low. Where to go? What to do? His back was up against the wall …. an unfamiliar and uncomfortable position for him.

He managed to get word to his mother …. the only person in the world he knew would never turn him in to the coppers. She knew about the girls, about her son’s depravity, his love of knives, his proclivity for ā€˜playing rough’, where the bodies were buried. It was a terrible sickness …. he couldn’t help himself …. and she would protect him at all costs, her sonny boy. Ā 

ā€œMum, I screwed up. Big time! I’m skipping town and I don’t know when I’ll be back. Sorry, mum. I love you. Paul.ā€

Desperate men do desperate things. He hopped on a freight train with nothing but the clothes on his back, a photo of his mother in his breast pocket and a pack of smokes.

And he started plotting and scheming.

He was feeling cold and tired when he noticed the train starting to slow down. Spying the dim headlights of an Army jeep through the slats of the boxcar, he knew it was time. He jumped off the moving train and looked around in the darkness. Sprinting across the tracks to the other side, he spotted a lone soldier taking a leak a few yards from his jeep. Luck was on his side.

With the ease of a someone who had killed before, he stuck his knife deep into the back of the soldier’s neck and gave a twist. Swiftly and silently he dragged the body to a wooded area, stripping it naked; he quickly donned the army uniform, then dressed the dead soldier in his clothes. Curious as to his new identity, he glanced at the dog tags before slipping them around his neck: Sgt. Matthew Connors. Slinging the sergeant’s gun over his shoulder, he ran back to the jeep and drove off into the night.

The dead soldier would be found soon enough, with a photo in his jacket pocket. He’d figure out a way to alert his mother; she’d be worried about her sonny boy.

NAR©2024

This is ā€œBack To The Wallā€ by Steve Earle

All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and are not to be used without permission. NARĀ©2017-present.

40 thoughts on “Desperate Times”

    1. Thanks, Clive! It’s dark alright; sometimes I wonder where my thoughts come from! These graphics are incredible. 😳

      For me, finding the right music for a story is like putting on that last piece of jewelry before a big night out. It can make or break an outfit and needs to be perfect. I’m glad you enjoyed today’s song. 😊

      Liked by 1 person

      1. I have heard it, but I will be damned if I can remember where from. I am also not going to cheat and Google it šŸ˜„
        I am very glad to hear you say that, Nancy. I am very grateful that you found us as well. Thank you šŸ™

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