It had been quiet at the top of the multi-storey, but down here the sobbing and approaching sirens were hurting Charlie’s ears.
Pete hadn’t bounced on hitting the ground, not like on the cartoons. He was going to need a new head though, and his lollipop was ruined, sticky with blood and grit.
Pete wouldn’t be playing out awhile…if ever.
Looking around, Charlie spied a plump toddler slouched in an unattended buggy.
“Bet she’d bounce,” he thought, starting forward.
Steel fingers clamped his wrist; Charlie stared into the coldest eyes he’d ever seen.
“Been watchin’ you, son,” said the man. “Gotta plan for you.”
This was a difficult prompt and I’m still not sure what it represents. However, when in doubt, go gruesome… Thanks again to the First Lady of Friday Fictioneers, Rochelle. Where would we be without you?