In a Facebook group with some lovely fellow authors, we did a 500 word short story challenge. This photo was offered as a prompt. Below is the story I crafted based on that prompt. I was playing around with building tension. Let me know what you think!

He’s short for five, but even if he wasn’t, he wouldn’t be able to see over the edge of the blue, concrete wall surrounding the tank of sting rays. Not without a ladder.

“A guy got killed last month, did you hear?” The man leans down and whispers.

The boy ignores him. He’s a stranger. A little girl leaves her mother’s side and starts the climb up the ladder. The boy is forced by the people behind him to shuffle forward two steps.

“Yeah, that ray shot its barb out of its mouth and straight through the guy’s eye.” The man mimics a barb going through his left eye.

“That’s not how it happened,” a woman behind him says. “Their barbs are in their tails.”

The boy turns to find his mom. She sits on a bench against the wall on the other side of the room holding the baby. The boy turns back to the ladder. The girl is gone.

“They eat kids, you know,” whispered the little boy behind him. The child is shorter than the boy, so he decides not to take him seriously.

A red-haired child climbs the ladder, dead fish between his fingers. There is only one more kid between the boy and the ladder.

“I heard if you fall in they won’t fish you out,” the man said. “Because they don’t want to get killed.”

The boy looks up and frowns. “Who are you?”

“Name’s Tim. I hang out here.” The man has bad breath and gnarly clothes.

The boy looks to the ladder. The kid who was climbing it moments ago is gone. The boy glances around, his vision beginning to sparkle around the edges. Maybe if he catches the front door closing, he’ll know that the kid simply left. But no, the front door is closed. No sign of the kid.

The girl directly in front of him begins to climb the ladder. The boy sets his eyes on her, determined to watch her progress. Up the ladder. Feed the stingray. Down the ladder. Back to mom.

“Hey. Hey, kid,” the man says.

The boy ignores him. The girl approaches the top rung. She leans over the edge of the pool.

“Hey, kid, did you hear about the wild stingray attack…?”

The boy forces himself to ignore the man.

A baby cries. The cry becomes a scream. The boy’s mom is talking. “Shh, shh, honey, just a couple more minutes. Ma’am, could you hand me that bottle out of the bag? Could somebody help me?”

It’s the boy’s job to help, and though he tries to keep one eye on the girl, standing on her toes on the ladder, leaning over the edge, he can’t keep it there while using the other to check on his mom.

He turns. Mom has baby calmed, a bottle in her mouth. The boy turns back to the ladder. The girl is gone.

His heart bangs. All he hears is the swish and splash of stingray wings in the water. A man puts a dead fish in his hands. The boy grabs the middle rung of the ladder, tears in his eyes, his jaw clenched, and starts the climb.