Sacrificial Rites by Josh Gray

At the sound of the gunshot, the boys freeze. A tall chain-link fence, rusted and covered with kudzu, separates them from a junkyard of vehicle carcasses stacked three- and four-high. They’re not trespassing. Not doing anything illegal. So the face of each thirteen-year-old assumes a look of dumpy-cherub innocence. The taller of the two dropkicks a red plastic two-gallon gas can behind the rusted ruins of an ’84 Honda hatchback. From around the corner of the junkyard trailer, a voice shouts, “Who did it? Which one of you little shits fuckin’ did it!?”

The two boys cringe at the sight of the large man stomping in their direction. He looks, with flushed face and coveralls oil-stained, dirt-smeared, like a redneck Mephistopheles freshly burrowed up from hell. He shouts: “Fess up! Which of you bat-shit crazy little fucks did it?!”

At the sound of the gunshot, the boys freeze. A tall chain-link fence, rusted and covered with kudzu, separates them from a junkyard of vehicle carcasses stacked three- and four-high. They’re not trespassing. Not doing anything illegal. So the face of each thirteen-year-old assumes a look of dumpy-cherub innocence. The taller of the two dropkicks a red plastic two-gallon gas can behind the rusted ruins of an ’84 Honda hatchback. From around the corner of the junkyard trailer, a voice shouts, “Who did it? Which one of you little shits fuckin’ did it!?”

The two boys cringe at the sight of the large man stomping in their direction. He looks, with flushed face and coveralls oil-stained, dirt-smeared, like a redneck Mephistopheles freshly burrowed up from hell. He shouts: “Fess up! Which of you bat-shit crazy little fucks did it?!”   Continue reading “Sacrificial Rites by Josh Gray”