Breaking Frame

Today there is a little experiment, a slightly different technique that I am not sure I've used before. 

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Barry Island looked an absolute picture. Yes it was cold; that biting wind I knew so well from my youth howling and finding ways to tickle your skin. But the blue sky stretched far out to sea becoming hazy as it reached the island of Steep Holm 5 miles away. Seagulls swooped and glided on the wind and families walked along the prom prom prom enjoying being beside the seaside. The sun glistened off the water and the sand was a golden brown, a finer temptress, calling people down to run, walk or play on the beach. The trick with Barry Island is don’t look back, stand on the prom or on Nell’s point and look out to sea, not back at the run down fun fair and blaring amusement arcades. Maybe I am being a bit harsh but even the most passionate Barrians must admit the view out to sea is way better than the view of the fair. But hey I wasn’t here for sightseeing, or to write a damning review on trip advisor, no I was here for something completely different. I was here for murder. I wasn’t going to commit the murder, oh no I am a writer not a murderer, I’ll leave the murdering to my characters, they know what they are doing. Me, I was just there to tell the tale, to relay it to you because you were not there. Actually I am not even sure it is murder, the definition of murder is the crime of killing someone deliberately. Today it was not somebody that was to be killed but there would be a body.

So I’ve set my scene let me tell my story. The two horses waded through the shallow low tide waves. Their riders bobbed up and down enjoying the sun on their backs and the water at their feet. The soft trot turned into a faster gallop, water splashed from hooves. To Danny high up on the shelter roof they were silhouettes against the sun, but once they had galloped back to his end of the beach they would be clear targets. It didn’t matter which horse Danny shot all he had to do was make sure the animal died. Then his Uncle Bob could claim the insurance and everyone would be happy. The riders turned and brought their steeds back down the beach, this time on the sand. They were racing each other, one pulling ahead before the other over took on the home straight. Danny took a deep breath, the horses slowed, seagulls yelped, and Danny pulled the trigger.

I looked away, I hate violence and hate the sight of blood. Instead I heard the commotion as I watched Danny collect his things and scurry away, down from the roof and down the steps to the car park. He moved quickly but quietly, no one noticed him. Once he’d disappeared from view, I turned my attention back to the beach where to my amazement I saw two horses running free and Uncle Bob lying prone on the sand surrounded by a growing number of sightseers. I hadn’t expected that to happen, I guessed the wind had gusted and Danny’s shot had not been so accurate but I was wrong. As Danny explained later, the insurance on Uncle Bob was worth more than that of the horse and for Aunty Marge, who’d won the bidding war, the horse’s life was worth more than that of Uncle Bob.