The Boy Who Cried Devil

Full House

There once was a young boy with a head of hair as red as a rose and healthy as a sprouting root; eyes as emerald green as the richest jewels. Smart as they come and free as they go. Always thinking, always working.
Short like a schoolboy, but as mighty as a monster.
Some dare to say he's an old man in a young boys body.

" 'Waste of looks he was really," the old man had a hand to his waist and the other to his hat, the sun lighting up the farmyard for as far as the property he owned he could see. His head hung low as his mind was coming to terms with this news, doesn't make it easier that he had to hear it from a person of the law.
"Any idea where he could be headed now? Friend or family person he could go to?" The official straightened up his stance and pocketed his notepad.
"Nah, 'sFar as I know, boy's got no-one, not an animal in the world that could be nicer to him than his ol' pet rat, Argo." The official coughed, arm to his face asking the old man to repeat what he'd just said. "Boy had a pet rat, nasty little biter she was and just as nasty as he was; that kept comin' 'round to the house stealin' cheese all the goddamn time so I told him to get it into a cage or somethin' and y'know, feed it like any normal weird kid would." He drew out a heavy sigh, lifting his head going into more detail, though he didn't want to.

"Rat died after food poisoning about two weeks after that, the boy seemed fine about it.. I guess, thinking of it now I shoulda gotten him a fish or somethin'. Take his mind off'a Argo y'know?"

"I'm sure you did what you thought was best at the time. Search is underway for him and once he's located he's going to do his time. In Fennerdales State Prison." The official thanked the old farmer for his co-operation and got into his car. He was heading back to the office for reports.

The old farmer went back into his home, where his wife and son were waiting on him to have lunch. "I bet you did everything you could."
Suddenly hit over the head with the back of a piece of heavy wood. Dragged to his car and driven down to the mortuary, laid on the table. "I'll make sure I do everything I can, to make sure you can feel what I felt even after you're dead and gone. Farmer Reeves." A maniacal and cold laugh filled the silvery white room while the family started saying their prayer before eating back at the house.

"When is dad coming back home Ma? He's never this late, even when he's late." The boy looked up towards the direction of his mother, who mirrored his curiosity and worry.

A cold air brushed through the leaves in the farm as his mother replied under her breath, soft enough so he couldn't hear, "I don't think he's coming back home."