The Sins of the Fathers
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Publicado por
Rhianon Jameson
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The Sins of the Fathers
by Rhianon Jameson
April 2009
The boy looked to be about twelve, and was small for his age.
He wore a blue
sailor suit, which had the unfortunate effect of making him look even younger and, sad
to say, less...
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The Sins of the Fathers
by Rhianon Jameson
April 2009
The boy looked to be about twelve, and was small for his age.
He wore a blue
sailor suit, which had the unfortunate effect of making him look even younger and, sad
to say, less masculine.
A larger, pudgy boy was administering a beating to the smaller
one while three others looked on, cheering the bully.
“Stop it, boys!” I said – sternly, I hoped.
I had no experience with children save
from a safe distance, and had no idea what they responded to.
I aimed for a note of
authority in my voice.
The three audience members looked up at the sound of my voice, but the larger
boy kept hitting and kicking the smaller as though I had not spoken.
Having reached the
group, I saw that the victim was Sammy Thraxon, who lived two blocks from me in the
Downs.
I also recognized the three who preferred to watch rather than participate.
The
bully was not someone I recalled.
I tried again.
“Stop it this instant!” That one worked – eventually.
The bully gave
two more kicks to his victim, now prone and rolled in a tight ball to protect himself, then
backed away.
He looked me in the eye.
For a moment I thought he might decide he could
safely ignore me, and I wondered about the propriety of pulling my Webley on a twelveyear-old.
He decided not to push his luck, sneered at me, and ran off, his acolytes close
behind.
I walked to the boy, who stayed in his protective ball.
He cried softly; it was
unclear to me whether this was out of embarrassment or fear that sobs could lead to even
greater punishment.
I wanted to comfort him, but knew not how.
“There, there, he’s
gone,” I said, tapping him on the shoulder.
The boy – Sammy – flinched at my touch, but
eventually decided I was no immediate threat and uncurled.
“It’s Master Sammy, isn’t it?” The boy nodded.
“What happened? Were those
boys not your friends? Why was the one hitting you?”
He sniffled.
“They was my friends, at least Johnny, Mick, and Pete was, but then
Enoch come and no one’s my friend any more.
”
“Enoch is the larger boy?” He nodded.
I sighed.
I would have to find Enoch’s
parents and fill them in on their son’s activities.
“Well, let us get you home.
” I set off in
the direction of his house, and Sammy trudged dejectedly behind me.
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