Christopher Stone

The Locket's Owner

It was late in the morning already. After stretching and aching, Jack rolls out of bed. “Ouch. Shit,” he whispers to no one in particular. He lifts his shirt, revealing a large home made bandage of duct tape and a pillow case covering his side, just below his ribs. Blood has stained through the middle of the bandage and the excess was beginning to seep through the outside.