‘I’d whip them until the skin peels off their back,’ the man said in a quiet voice to murmurs and nods of agreement from the five people around the table. ‘They’re scum. It’s about time decent folk took back control.’
He was talking with a group of Concerned Citizens; shopkeepers mostly, who were fed-up being attacked in their own businesses. Thieves were getting more brazen: one or two people, always dressed in black, with face coverings and a hoodie pulled up, simply walked in and took whatever that wanted and walked out again. They had tools to break chains that held things down.
If the shopkeeper or a customer tried to get in the way, they’d find a knife waving in their face.
‘The police aren’t interested,’ the man continued, but he was preaching to the choir, everyone knew he was talking the truth, they had been victims themselves, ‘So, we’ll have to do it ourselves.’
He had a plan and he wasn’t shy about sharing it. They would take video of their attackers and then, later, together as a group, they would go after them. Revenge would be very sweet.
‘Public flogging,’ a tiny lady of Indian heritage, piped up. ‘Tie them to the railings in Sandston Street.’ Another, a beefy matron-type, added, ‘I’ve got a bullwhip.’ And that seemed to settle the matter.
Three months later, the magistrate sentenced them to six months jail time for causing grievous bodily harm and ordered they pay the thief £3,000 compensation.
Words: Richard Rooney
Illustration: A.I.
Flash Fiction 250
Flash Fiction 250 