The Kill

By Barry Revill

Back in 1950s, a young boy is exposed to two different sorts of horror at the same time. His father takes him to exercise the greyhounds. He witnesses his first kill, a possum. The blood lust in his father, raises another sort of lust in the man. The boy must deal with both of them. This short story, by Barry Revill, is based on a real event. WARNING this story contains descriptions of violence and mild child abuse and may upset some readers.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Barry Revill
• Release date: Sep 28, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310952371

Barry Revill

Barry Revill was born in Camberwell, Victoria, Australia in 1935. He started work, aged 13, in a textile factory in Melbourne. He had many and varied jobs over the years including gold mining and as a Field Assistant with the Bureau of Mineral Resources in both Tennant Creek and Lake Elphinstone in Western Queensland. He sold books door to door, and spent the last thirty odd years of his working life in the insurance business. He is now long-retired and still lives in the same house in a Melbourne suburb that he has lived in for the last 56 years. The house has a large garden, which takes up much of his time. He is also driven to write, which he does almost every day. Barry’s stories and muses have been published in magazines and newspapers. His monologues have been performed on stage.

Book preview

The Kill

by

Barry Revill

© Barry Revill 2014

Second Edition © Barry Revill 2020

All rights reserved

The following cover images are gratefully acknowledged.

Running Dogs - Image courtesy of Rosen Georgiev at FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Sugar-glider Climb on the Tree - Image courtesy of Praisaeng at FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Red Drop - Image courtesy of pixtawan at FreeDigitalPhotos.net

The two walked, the older man, and the young boy, up from the kennels, which were at the bottom of the paddock, and then along the sandy track which led to the golf links. The night was cold with just a little moon and the boy felt the cold. His clothes were thin, his jumper, barely enough for the June night. Each