Saturday, February 20, 2021

Blood on his hands

 The door burst open.

‘Did you hear about Larkin?’

‘He’s filed an appeal?’

‘He took his own life.’


‘Asphyxiation. Used a strip from his pillowcase.’

‘I don’t …’

‘It’s what he deserved.’

‘No. No, it’s not. Did he leave a note?’

‘It said he was innocent; that it was hopeless and he’d had enough.’

‘It wasn’t hopeless; he just didn’t know how to prove it.’

‘There was literally blood on his hands.’

‘But they were the wrong hands.’


‘They never checked his hand span.’

Joyce felt sick. Larkin was dead because of his desire to win the case.

A drabble is a story of exactly 100 words.

1 comment:

Margot Kinberg said...

Oh, that's a powerful end to this story, Rob! I'm really glad you followed on from last week. That story is the sort of reason I would never want to be a lawyer...