Saturday, January 2, 2016

I was nine when I killed for the first time

I was nine when I killed for the first time.  I stabbed a man in the chest with a kitchen knife while he slept.  An hour earlier he’d beaten my mother unconscious.  I made a full confession, but my mother made a counter-one and was convicted.  I was sent to my grandparents.  Fifteen months later my grandfather died of asphyxiation.  It seems that a belt can be used for more than whipping young boys.  I then disappeared into the night.  The third man I killed thought he could sell my body to a rich man.  I’ve killed five times since.



A drabble is a story of exactly 100 words.

4 comments:

Margot Kinberg said...

I think what makes this particularly powerful, Rob, is how understated it is. Really well done!

http://predictionfiction.blogspot.co.uk/ said...

I felt sure this was a novel I'd read - helluva lot in 100 words.

Spade and Dagger said...

I want to read the rest of this tale ......!

Rob Kitchin said...

Thanks for the comments. Probably the quickest drabble I've written. Just flowed out in one go and came to 101 words. A quick edit and then pressed publish. It's funny how some do that and others are a bit of struggle. I wouldn't mind knowing the rest of the tale as well!