Photo: © Al Forbes 2014. Fiction: © Steve Lakey 2014
My neighbours had turned me in. They told me I was a stupid teenager to break the telescope. How could anyone see the boats coming in now? They said that boys like me only cared about ourselves and gave the village a bad name.
How very brave of them, disowning me through the bars of my cell, before walking away. But I couldn’t live in the world that they accepted, and I had to do something – anything – to tear it down.
The Police had tried to break me, to see me cry. I had cried once, but told them nothing they wanted to know. The hours passed. They had been ‘nice’, and they had used threats. But I had not given in.
“Why that particular telescope? Why now?”
“What other offences of vandalism have you committed?”
“Who else was involved?”
The two policemen weren’t trying to establish guilt – that was already decided from the moment my name was passed on. They wanted to see who else they could pull in. I didn’t have to hold out for long. I knew they weren’t going to bother a magistrate with a case like this…
My cell door opened and I was led out, blinking, into the sunlit courtyard. A line of grey-clad soldiers were waiting, rifles by their sides.
As the blindfold plunged me into darkness, I cleared my throat and shouted with my last breath.
“Soon the Allies will come and you will be gone! Vive la France!”
This story was prompted by Sunday Photo Fiction October 19th 2014, hosted by Al Forbes. Click the logo for more details.
To view other entries in this challenge, click the blue frog.