Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-34296765-20160531232029

The boy opened the cold, hard lid of the brass box with trembling fingers. His back still burned from the good whippings served by his two assailants behind him, who were still watching him open the rusty golden cubic box, just barely big enough to fit him in. It left no room for the boy to move - he would be stuck in a fetal position for the last remaining hours of his life.

"Get in," ordered one of his assailants, landing an uppercut on the back of the boy's head to emphasize his point. The boy whimpered the slightest bit and crawled into the tiny cube.

"Dirty piece of shit," the other assailant quipped. "Stupid, incompetent, dirty piece of shit."

The first assailant shut the brass lid shut without letting the boy get into a comfortable position. He squirmed within the prison but he dared not beg for mercy - doing so would only bring worse consequences. He could hear the two people outside dragging a metallic container onto the plastic camp table, the two surfaces scraping against each other and making a dull hum-like sound in the process.

From the crack of the brass box's corners the boy could see one of the assailants bring forth a plastic cup and scoop the material inside the cylindrical container. When she drew it out, something alive and writhing was in there.

The assailant stepped up to the brass box and opened the lid the tiniest bit. The boy caught a glimpse of her face for the last time. To think she loved him...

"If you had finished your homework even once, this wouldn't have happened!" his mother cried, dumping the cup of centipedes and other wriggling arthropods into the brass box for her son to drown in. 