The three words from this short story prompt are:
We could hear the sirens in the distance. Some good Samaritan must have seen us, or found the guy we just beat to a pulp. He had it coming, really. We don’t just randomly beat the shit out of people. He had started it, we had finished it. It took both of us…he was a big guy. And he had a knife. All we could do was rush him, get him off balance and knock him to the ground. I admit, maybe I found it a little more fun than I should have. We took turns…one of us would struggle to hold him down as the other hit him repeatedly.
He’d be taken to the hospital and patched up. I mean, we could have taken his knife and stabbed him to death, but didn’t. We didn’t want to kill him.
Hopefully no one saw us duck into this alley. We are a little tore up. Drunk, and beat up. The guy did get his licks in.
It’s strange how blood looks black in the light of the moon.