(A 100-word story that I wrote for a Creative Writing class. I remember rushing to write it the morning it was due, but it turned out to be one of my favorite, gritty little pieces. Now I’m considering expanding on it. Thoughts?)
Johnny was my friend. I won’t bore you with the details: how we met, what we had in common, and all that. Just know that we were friends.
Johnny was a good kid, but he had his demons. Most people can hide theirs, you know, smile and act like everything’s okay. And Johnny used to, but it got to be too much.
Johnny’s mom was an addict. And his old man? That bastard would beat the shit out of Johnny like it was a sport. Johnny finally got fed up and left. Ran away. He was never seen alive again.