My third story

He thought, I heard that same sound as a small, unhurt boy, and for a moment he nearly wept. Back then it was a happy sound and usually illicited a smile and possible a giggle. But that was before the unpleasantness. He had always enjoyed the carousel, especially the music. One day. many years ago he had succeded in getting his mother to take him to the carousel in the middle of the town. They walked down the sun dappled streets, enjoying the unseasonably warm weather that October. That was all he could actively remember. He came to in the backyward of a house three blocks over, covered in blood.


Thank you to Mike for sending me the first submission to the spam sentence story contest. He wins a special prize for that. And for the rest of you, get your asses in gear!!!

Well... I suppose....