Flash Fiction |
Fifty Five Years Ago “That is against the law,” the voice said from behind me. I froze. But he didn’t. “Stand up straight and turn around, slowly,” the voice said. Something about that voice told me I better do it, and it turned out he wasn’t just a passerby, he was a policeman. As I looked up at him, I think my blood froze right in my veins. I literally couldn’t move, nor take my eyes off his. He looked at me with a calm face, not calm and happy, but not angry either. He almost looked like he was weighing me out, trying to fit the puzzle pieces together. I was silent, not out of choice more out of terrified. I was usually a pretty good kid, but I got caught up in the wrong crowd and they were so different and exciting. I had been kind of hypnotized into wanting to be as cool as they seemed. This was kind of an initiation for me. I didn’t want to scratch somebodies’ car with a key, but that’s what I was told I had to do to “prove” I was worthy of joining the group. I suddenly felt like the fool I was being. The policeman looked me straight in the eyes, and with no expression on his face said. “That looks like a key to me. I’m pretty sure you are not old enough to drive, and there are no locks to unlock right there. I think you need to leave.” The look on his face was so serious, I turned and ran! Well, I didn’t make the gang. I didn’t even want to, then. What I wanted to do is be like that policeman. And that, my friends, is how I ended up joining the Police Force fifty-five years ago, today. |