Just a Game, Mum

Jacob stumbled through the front door, nose bleeding onto his dirty, torn T-shirt. His mum fussed, like mums do.

"Jacob! What happened?!"

"Just a game," Jacob's voice sounded thick and claggy. Partly because of his bashed-up nose, but also because her gentle fussing made tears threaten. "Pirates. Swords, treasure maps."

She steered him to a chair and dug out the first aid kit.

"Had to walk the plank, that's all. Will had to walk it last week. I fell."

"Is Will the... larger boy?" She dabbed at his nose.

"No, that's Harry." The bruise where Harry's bulk had pressed on his lower back felt tender.

"I'll run you a bath," she said. Mums think baths fix everything. "Drop your clothes in the laundry basket, and I'll make you cocoa. I need to look after my treasure."

He let her hover over him like a mother-hen. It makes her happy, he reasoned.

Soaking in the hot soapy water did ease his aching bruises. He sipped his cocoa, not admitting, even to himself, that it felt good to be taken care of.

The evening was muggy, so he ignored the pyjamas that she'd warmed in the airing cupboard. He pulled on clean joggers and t-shirt instead, Max's words from the playground echoing in his head. There's loot out there...

He had a nasty, sinking feeling that maybe it wasn't just a game. Not anymore. Not with Max Calder leading them.

What loot were they planning on stealing?

The other kids were impressed by Max, their eyes wide with misguided excitement. Jacob remembered how they'd gawked at Grayson's flick-knife. If Max suggested stealing for real...

They're my friends. They wouldn't do anything bad.

Next day, Max led them to the corner store. The bell jingled softly. Max pocketed a chocolate bar, looking pointedly at the others until they followed suit.

Jacob hesitated, Max's eyes burning into him.

"I need a First Mate. What d'you say, Jacob?"

Jacob remembered the pain and humiliation of the mutiny, walking his own plank... Guilt warred with a deep need to regain standing. He slipped a Gold Bar into his pocket.

+ + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + +

Word count excluding title, subtitle, and authors notes: 366

Submitted on Sunday 18th August at 21:48

A Year of Stories: I'm writing a story every day this year. This one continues my 231 day streak since 1st January.

Please consider lending your support to the other creators on this madcap "a story every day" adventure. They're putting out excellent content every day!

Rachel Deeming

Gerard DiLeo

The story behind the story: Still avoiding first person! I wrote this to follow on from The Plank, but this one should stand on its own. Gold bars are a small white chocolate biscuit here in the UK. They look like this:

Thank you

Especially if you are one of the wonderful people who has been staunchly reading these daily scribbles since the start of the year. I see you, and appreciate you very much indeed!

If you enjoyed this one, the very best compliment you can give me is to share it, or read another!

Here's an oldie:

A recent Top Story:

My look back at July:

My reflections on the recent nonet challenge:

Here's my current Dollar Challenge:

And now for something completely different:

+ + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + +

Thank you again!