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Short Story: The Real Culprit

Genre: mystery?

 

“It wasn’t me,” he protested.

She pointed at the glaring icing remnants around his mouth. “Then what’s that?”

“Blood. Your real culprit is over there.” He pointed to a boy with a streak of brown at the corner of his mouth and crumbs all over his clothes.

“Oh. Then, what’s with the blood?”

He shuffled under her gaze.

“I… had a messy meal?”

“What are you? A vampire?”

He choke-laughed. “Of course not. Vampires aren’t real, right?”

He smiled, showing his even canines that almost shone in the sunlight.

“Right,” she agreed.

~End~

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