When the police come a week later, my mum made no qualms about telling them.
“I stabbed him, yeah, and I’d do it again.” She’d said.
They found the body in the local canal.
“There…” I said, pointing to my bedroom floor. My stomach twisting at the memory of him.
“They found him castrated. Do you think they will ever find it?”
I looked down outside my window at the mushrooms growing just under it.
“No,” I said, with a small grin slowly cracking over my face. “I don’t think they will!”
Word Count: 120
Thank you Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for this weeks ‘Friday Fictioneers’ Take a look and see what you can do 🙂 Highly recommended!