Philosophising | Short Story

Even the boy’s parents conceded that the optics were poor.

Pages of notes in the haphazard handwriting of an eleven year-old, grime-encrusted beakers, oranged rubber piping curling across desks, and all of those phials filled with viscous, bubbling liquid…

Whether it had been a neighbour or a delivery driver who had alerted the authorities they never knew, and by the time the story took off on social media, no-one really cared. All anyone could talk about was the forensic tent erected on the front porch and the boy being taken away for interview. Then, of course, came the speculators – the Twittering, Redditing vultures happy to get creative, to opine that the boy had always been odd, that he had spent too much time on shady internet forums, or that – in an apparent non sequitur put forwards by his primary school classroom assistant – the boy had shown an unhealthy interest in science.

The narrative changed when the forensic team entered the family’s basement. Goggles and face masks were removed as they blinked and tried to comprehend what surrounded them – shelves and shelves piled high with roughly formed, lustrous gold bars.

The clamour, the appetite for punishment and retribution, undertook its own metamorphosis in the subsequent days. The appetite remained, but it was for recipes, for method, and for all the base metals people could lay their hands on.

Enjoyed this? Sign up to my blog below. Written in response to Pensivity101’s Three Things Challenge. Recent short stories include ‘His the Night‘ and ‘Twelve Cans Beans‘.

Matthew J. Richardson’s fiction has appeared in publications including Golddust Magazine, Flashback Fiction, Close to the Bone, Shooter, and Idle Ink. His work often explores psychological tension, place, and the quiet edges of human behaviour. He lives in Scotland and holds a Professional Doctorate in Education.