Monday, 3 August 2009


I fully expected them to lynch Lawrence. It made sense, he was a freak, an obvious target. But they didn't stop there, my friend Mark gone, and now they are coming for me. I don't know how long I have.
The mob, the mindless group, lusting for vengeance for a crime. A crime for which the only witness is the perpetrator, because poor Mary is brain damaged. The mob waited, waited for nine months. Waited to see if the child would help them find the perpetrator.

So, Lawrence, a freak, and very plausibly the actual criminal, and actually has blonde hair.

But Mark, not a freak, not a bad man by any accounts, but has blonde hair.

And I guess now me.

Don't they see they have no evidence? Most babies start out blonde don't they? Spend the money, get a paternity check, that would have saved Mark. I'm not sure we're better off having Lawrence. Why didn't they stop there? They didn't attack the mayor, and he's blonde. Why just us outsiders? Why just us? Mark was quiet, Lawrence was nuts, and I'm just, well, I never go to their bar, cafe or bowling. Just because I keep myself to myself I'm going to suffer at their ignorant hands?

Here they come; I can hear them. They rustle like so many zombie movie foley tracks.
They are relentless, and all moving as one in a belief in their righteousness. Like a cult, a religion, a dogma lead movement of Truth for the sake of mankind.
They have no evidence, none, how could they have.
I made sure there wasn't any.

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