A story of a whipping boy. He’s a best friend of mine.
Open raw backs from
lashings
Where the heated blood surfaced
and his shirt clings to his back
Secrets are kept in the basement
The snap stung worse
Than a bee sting
And hissed more than a serpeant’s tongue
Deafening the ear drums
Screams of agony and muffled cries
Concealed the hidden
And awful
Truth’s lye
Welcome to Authspot, the spot for creative writing.
Read some stories and poems, and be sure to subscribe to our feed!
