PHOTO PROMPT Dale Rogerson
He approached the black garbage bag. Police officers weren’t supposed to be afraid, but the recent murders went beyond his understanding.
It was a small bag, so a child.
Stepping across the street and into the snow bank beyond, he slit the plastic, turning his eyes away from the gore bound to spill across his sturdy black shoes. Please, please, please don’t let the child be disemboweled, but he didn’t believe in God, not after all these years.
He looked back, plastic plates and cups scattered around his feet.
He began to cry.
A Writer's Life 
A sad but realistic story. Police must see so many horrible things. He seems to need some help. Good writing. —- Suzanne
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Eek, I wonder how many plastci bags have been found before this to make him think that way. Chilling take.
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This bag was lucky after all. Except he has to clean up now
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Dear Connie,
His feeling of relief at finding dishes was tangible. Perhaps it’s time for him to retire. Well done.
Shalom,
Rochelle
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Oh, I was hoping with him thaWonderful story. t it wouldn’t be too horrible. I understand his tears.
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wonderful! I was right there and expecting gore but then …just cups. Nice one!
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All that wasted crockery would reduce anyone to tears!
Good story.
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Well done, Connie. I imagine he has seen more than his share. Maybe it is time to retire…
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It really was a garbage bag. You drew me right in with the fear what would be found.
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Nice build-up before the twist. I’m glad for him, but he must have seen some horrible things in the past.
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Bless him…he was so caught up. You really had me feeling for him.
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