Monday, 18 April 2011

Bad boys

I saw some boys, aged about eleven or twelve years old, on a bridge; a high bridge with trees and shrubs far beneath. They were dangling a boy over the edge by his school bag which he was holding onto for his life. The boys above were laughing and jeering at the poor child who was pleading with them to save his life. He was screaming: “Please don't let go! Please! Please help me! Help me!”
I watched in horror as they laughed and let go and the boy fell to his death. I ran over to the boys, not knowing if I should grab one and hold onto him and call the police or if I should be trying to get down to the boy they had thrown over the bridge. I knew he was probably dead but still felt I should run to see yet I didn't want these evil children to get away.
A dream

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