Sunday Photo Fiction: Thieving

Thieving

I find myself falling behind Dillon’s determined march. He isn’t breaking pace, even as we hike uphill through the nettles. He’s made up his mind, which has become unchangeable in the past year.

“I just don’t see why we have to bring this stupid thing to the party. No one else has to steal anything.”

“Look Pete, no one’s forcing you to come. If you’re so scared you can just go home.”

We both know I can’t. The coat of arms is too bulky for one person to carry and this is the first time we’ve ever been invited anywhere. Who knows when it’ll happen again.

“I’m not scared, Dill.”

It’s one of those British coats of arms with lions and a unicorn. But the paint’s faded so badly on the one outside our school that it looks like the unicorn’s asshole is bleeding. I can almost see it from the hilltop if I squint. We descend.

“Do you think your mom would’ve wanted you to do this?” I ask, so quietly I can’t believe he hears me.

“It’s not about her! It’s about me. Only me. Okay?”

“Okay,” I say, and we hop the fence into the schoolyard.


170-08-august-28th-2016

This is a submission to Sunday Photo Fiction, a weekly challenge where writers post a story in 200 words or fewer in response to a photo prompt (shown above).

Posted by

Midwest fiction writer hailing from the Mitten State. Not nearly as clever as I pretend to be.

11 thoughts on “Sunday Photo Fiction: Thieving

  1. Seems to be some sort of initiation ceremony and because they are so desperate to go, they will do anything. I can see this going downhill all the way from there. As Joy says, definitely something about the mother.

    Like

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s