I
suppose you could call it a practical joke but it wasn’t funny. Adam Twain’s
so-called friends were wetting themselves. It was a status update that did
it—nigh on ruined Adam’s life.
“I
killed Jemima Dukes” they’d posted on his Facebook page, gaining access when
he’d left his screen unattended to go to the college loo. That’s what he got
for wasting time on social media. He should have had a science website open. If
not that, then he certainly should have logged off Facebook before going to
relieve himself.
He
had always been an absent-minded fellow, his head in the clouds on higher
things. That’s why the “friends” hated him, mocked him, and bullied him. He
should have been more careful knowing them.
Shoulda,
coulda, woulda.
It
was too late now.
The
comments came rapidly: “Scum”, “Filthy bastard” “You’re dead” were among the
mildest.
Jemima
had been missing for a month. It was all over the internet, the papers and the
television. CCTV showed her last known movements down by the canal.
Yes,
it was too late. The online mob had materialised. They were outside Adam’s front
door.
© Brian Ahern 2014
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