Today’s Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers.
Lakeshore was little more than a few buildings overlooking twin ponds that merged over the path during heavy rains. To Trant, it was prison for people that didn’t measure up.
To the public, it was so much more. It was a prestigious boarding school that turned boys into men. That’s what his parents said when they exiled him here, and that’s certainly what the Board of Trustees said, those fat old men sitting in their cheap tweed suits smoking expensive cigars and clapping each other on the back. They had succeeded on all fronts. Scholastics. Debate. Drama.
And Track. Crown Jewel of Lakeshore.
The only thing that Trant excelled at. He was a runner.
Sirens cut the quiet muddy afternoon, waking the sleepy town on the hill surrounding Lakeshore. How presumptuous. They thought a few whirring cries would actually motivate anybody to get up this early and join a search.
No matter. He shouldered his pack and began to hurry away.
They were what they were. And he was what he was.