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Rated: E · Short Story · Contest · #2078329
For Every Picture Tells a Story Contest
A dark street engulfed with shadows of shaky trees, the wind whipping up as much chaos as possible. Joey was walking the street, a plastic bag in his hands. Something red and gooey was dripping from the bag.

"Put your hands on the back of your head and lie face down on the ground," the officer barked.

Joey spun around, dropping the bag while doing so. Cans of baked beans exploded on the floor. He was wild eyed, confused and his body vibrated in panic. "What? ," he said pathetically "What's this about?".

The officer drew his gun in response, while taking a step forward and steadied the nozzle right at Joey's torso. "Now, punk. Face down on the ground," the officer yelled. "I won't say it again."

Joey was left with no choice and obeyed the officer. He slowly lowered his body to the ground, with his hands behind his head, until he felt his chin brush against the wet and cold gravel.

Officer Tilly moved cautiously over to Joey lying face down, stepped over him and then holstered his gun. Then with his left hand holding Joey down, he unclasped the handcuffs from his waist and hooked them on Joey's wrists.

"Now, get up, punk," the officer said, with a hand still on Joey's wrists, he directed him towards a police car hidden in the darkness.

"What the hell is going on? I haven't done anything," Joey said.

The officer harrumphed, "Haven't done anything? You make me sick. But don't worry, you're going to pay for what you've done."

Joey and the officer reached the car and after Joey was shoved in the back, the officer climbed in the driver's seat.

Joey was truly panicking now. "Officer, please," he whined, "There must be some kind of mistake. I was just doing some shopping and heading home. I haven't done anything wrong."

"Save it for the court, punk," the officer snarled from the front.


Joey sat across a metal brushed table with a single flickering light above him. An enormous man sat facing him, his shirt sleeves rolled up, revealing thick, black hair. The man was glistening with sweat, prodding his brow now and then with a cloth.

"I'm, Detective Willy and I've been put on this investigation. Thin your smart, huh? You make me sick to the stomach. So let's get started shall we?"

Joey blinked compulsively and swallowed a lump in his throat, "I-i-investigation?"

Detective Willy's lips spread to the far corners of his face, his yellow teeth illuminated in the light. "Yes, investigation." Willy took out a manila folder and slid it across the table to Joey. "Open it."

Joey did and what he saw made his stomach churn. It was a picture of him reading a book. He didn't know how they got it, but they did.

"Reading again are we, Joey?" Detective Willy said.

Joey looked up from the photo, his skin pale white.


Words: 490

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