Abacus

stabbed himself again in the same region, but again missed the artery. His stabbing then became more frantic until a red stream spurted from his groin. With each pulse Randall watched a trajectory of blood take flight. Eventually the blood spurts began to diminish in power. When his head dropped onto his chest, Randall knew he had totally bled out and was dead. He only wished his brother Terry was there to witness his brother’s final moments of begging, grovelling and crying for mercy.
    Walking from his car, he picked up the bloodied pocketknife that had been dropped on the ground. Climbing the tree, he cut the rope, sending both bodies crashing to the ground.
    Looking out into the dark billabong , he took a deep breath. He felt an overwhelming sense of fulfilment. He had avenged the attempted killing of his children, and whilst he hadn’t killed Terry Jenkins, he had killed the next best thing. Dragging both corpses to the bank by the scruff of their necks, he dropped them tantalisingly half in and half out of the water. Looking out into the darkness he called out, “Dinner is served, come and get it, boys.”