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Rated: 13+ · Short Story · Other · #1925342
About a swing. Originally for 100 Words of Horror, the expanded version is present here.
         “Is this it? Is this…all that’s left?”  Jakob asked. The villagers stood among the remnants, stricken with fear, dumbfounded.

         They gathered in the center of what was left the playground. The jungle gym, which had only been a few crossties with heavy, knotted ropes for climbing, was mostly gone; only the support beams protruded from the grass, the edges jagged and sharp, like broken toothpicks.

         “And that—what is that over there?” said Josiah, his voice trembling.

         “Is that…my god, is that a shoe?” someone deeper in the crowd remarked.

         A blonde-haired woman broke from the throng to grab the shoe. “No, no, no, not Kamyra…she was my only child…” she wailed, clutching the shoe to her chest.  A man tore himself from the villagers and went to her, wrapping his arms around her and stroking her hair.  For a moment, there was only the sound of the wind cutting through the trees and the wails of the woman with the shoe.

         A question cut through the sound of the woman and her grief.  “Where’s the sandbox?” The loud whisper came from Kaitlin, usually one of the strong ones.  But the shudder in her voice reverberated throughout the crowd.

         Heads turned left and right, but no one responded.

         Another villager pointed to his left.  “Is that…the swing?

         Jakob pulled away from the others to the swing part that was half-rammed into the ground.  He pulled it up with a yank.  All that was left was a bit of chain attached to the fractured wooden seat.  Teeth marks had made an ugly, ragged curve in the wood, and it was splattered with fresh blood and bits of flesh.

         Kaitlin screamed in shock and grief and whipped around to the village elder. 

         “Do you see now?  Do you believe now?” she shrieked, her fear turned to fury.

         The elder remained motionless, unable to move or speak. 

         “Perhaps you will give the offering next season, Elder?” Jakob spat, his eyes ablaze in rage.  “And maybe you will not be so wise? So callous? Shall we appease them, next season, Elder?  Or have we not suffered enough?” 

         The elder threw himself on the ground and begged for forgiveness.

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