Writing for Fun
December 2016
High Voltage - Diane Silverston
The four friends stood transfixed. How? Why? Everyone knew it was dangerous. It had always been forbidden but they had enjoyed playing there. Of course he was new to the area. Now there he was encaged by the rusting metal fence, just lying there, legs askew and his face was pallid white.
The four friends stood gazing, filled with apprehension. Why had he done it? Surely their comments hadn't affected him, made him attempt it? They had only been said in jest, as a throw away remark. He could not have taken them seriously, surely?
But there he was, lying there, unattainable to them. They would need help, but were they brave enough to go and ask an adult?
The four friends stood fearfully, as they stared at him, not moving, senseless. What had happened to him? Was he dead?
Suddenly one lad broke away and rushed over the field towards the row of houses. They needed someone else to take control. It would mean that they would be in trouble for playing there but it was beyond their abilities to deal with it.
Soon there were adults around, discussing what to do. Eventually one man was brave enough to climb over the fence. He moved carefully over to the boy, lifting him gently, and passing him over the spikes on top of each metal rod.
Hands grabbed the body but it was soon apparent that it was all too late. The boy's body was carried to his home, followed by the four friends, who walked with their heads hung and tears in their eyes.
There behind them on the fence the sign, although broken and chipped said it all . . .