The Next Day

Yesterday I posted one of my short-short stories on Facebook.  The story is a non-fictional account of a small but significant chapter in my life.  I was pleased to have so many great reviews and interested readers.  Some however, were left wanting more.  They felt the story had no ending.  I, the writer, feel and felt at the time of the writing, there was and is no end to the story.

The story continued the following day:  (The Prelude 1973) The three boys were removed from the dungeon of a cell and taken up stairs.  This cell was much larger and brighter.  Breakfast was brought to the boys.  Later on that morning, the three boys found themselves standing in the Judge’s Office.  As I (now vaguely) recall; one of my Uncles was there as was the Fathers of the other two boys.  I cannot speak for them, but I was scared.  I was afraid that I had really screwed up my life.  We were scolded by the Judge.  He lectured us on the possible consequences of our actions.  Before sending us home; he told us we could have avoided the incident.  He said that we could have called someone or even just have asked for some gas to get home.  Stealing the gas was not only stupid, it was unnecessary.  The following Monday we all returned to school.  Just as I had feared, most everyone knew about the incident.  For several weeks we were ribbed about sealing the gas. 

I never knew want had happened to the eighteen year old boy.  I did hope he fared as well as we did.  The boy who left, made it home.  To this day I have never spoken his name, and believe no one else but us knew he was there.

And so… The story has no ending.  It is a life lesson that I have carried throughout.

To know the whole story:  Go to the Short Stories Page and read; The Prelude - 1973
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