“What did you do with them, you son of a bitch?”, growled Big Joe at his puny prisoner tied to a chair. His hands and legs were tightly roped and the mouth was gagged. He looked at Big Joe with a pale, shabby, dirty face—and mumbled.
Joe took the SOCKS out of his mouth.
“I...I only kept them for a while...and...and... I watched them.” the prisoner crackled in a whiny, weak voice.
Joe distinctly remembers his niece, the way she talked. A slender looking young girl, 14 of age. Like a FEATHER’s touch, her gentle smile fainty brushes his memory. She was his only family, the daughter he didn’t father. Now she’s no more. There had been seven more disappearances of girls of her age over the past two years. They never found the corpses.
It was a cool night in the MOUNTAIN range. No one usually comes this far past those ONION fields. Big Joe pulled a can of gasoline out of his truck, soaked the whimpering prisoner and adjacent area with it, making a glittering small pool.
The FIRE dazzled brilliantly, blooming the sky with reddish tint. Big Joe slowly started for the local police.
• Lost •
Hi, this is my entry to the qurators monday mission contest. The current one asks the participants to come up with a story within 200 words or less with given keywords.
The words were—
ONION, MOUNTAIN, FEATHER, SOCKS, FIRE
Contest link - @qurator/qurator-s-monday-missions-or-short-story
I wish I could elaborate a bit more but part of the challenge is that it should be short.
Thanks for stopping by _