The young thug

When I passed them, the boy, pale, about 15 or so, with messy blond locks, seemed self-possessed but as if he harbored a secret. The smirk on his face suggested some kind of nastiness. His mother, walking by him, but a little off, away from his side, seemed nervous. Her fidgets bore a tightly controlled anxiety. They inspired this story.


The giggly baby she’d birthed and raised was a bit of a thug. The poisonous thought crept into the corner of her mind, giving her whole body a jolt. Her child had developed into a ruffian. She has hoped it was passing phase, or hormones. He was tall and strong, and physically healthy, she thought, but he had a tendancy to bully that frightened her.

He was not always as rough as he’s become of late, especially the way he treats his cousins . My little boy was once so shy and sweet. What happened to exact this change?

The neighbor’s dog has learned to slink away to avoid meeting him. His voice has not yet deepened but his tone is always gruff.

Will the nice kid re-emerge one day? Can I trust him around others who are weaker and smaller than he is?Will he prove to be a criminal? He has exhausted my powers to discipline him.

More soon… come back please.


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