“Kenneth,” said Mrs. Mackie, once the two boys had finished their drinks. “Why don’t you go and show Josh the beach?” This phrase stuck in Josh’s mind, as it struck him as an odd thing to say. He’d seen the beach. Kenneth, showing no visible sign of enthusiasm, got up and did as he was told.
The two of them walked along the shore for a while, looking to see if anything interesting had been washed up (if it had, Josh couldn’t remember). There was a shapeless carcass some yards away, on the sand. It was hard to see, what with the sunlight shining on the water behind it. A flock of seagulls were milling round it. Kenneth picked up a stick and sent it spinning through the air towards it. Josh thought it was wrong – he’d been brought up not to do that kind of thing – but he didn’t say anything. If Kenneth was happy throwing sticks at birds, there was no telling what he might happily do to him. The birds swirled out of the way before returning to the carcass.
On the way back, Kenneth picked up a bigger stick and started swinging it to and fro, knocking pebbles and lumps of kelp out of the way as he did so. “I’m only doing this because my mother told me to, you know,” he said.
The next day, Kenneth came round to call for him. After the day before, Josh was surprised and not that pleased to see him. He wasn’t sure Kenneth was someone he wanted to spend time with, but he didn’t really know how to say ‘no’ and anyway, before he could say anything, his mother, seeing things – as she saw it – panning out the way she hoped they would, had shooed him enthusiastically out of the house.
An excerpt from a short story, Broken Glass (a nine minute read). You can read it here, at Spillwords Press.
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