The Dare

I don’t know who dared it, but the rule was the rule.

Dare me, I’ll do it.

Anyway, it was me drew the short straw.

I squeezed through the loose board and snuck up through the weedy underbrush.

Near the the edge of the property there were a lot of broken bottles and trash people sometimes pitched over the fence, but by the house there was nothing but dead weeds.

I went to the open window you could see from the alley, black like the mouth of a corpse.

I stood under it for a minute to work up courage.

 

Friday Fictioneers

9 thoughts on “The Dare

Whatever.