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“Ain’t skeered, are ya?”

Bill shook his head. Tim gave him another shove toward the old house.
“Get inside then, Less’n yer chicken.”

Bill stumbled toward the house after another push from Tim. The stairs creaked under his feet.

“Go in already!”

Bill reached for the doorknob. Tim wooed in the background, pretending to be a ghost.

Bill turned the knob and pushed the rickety door open.

“Hey, Billy. Wait.”

He looked back at Tim.

“Ya really thought I didn’t know ‘bout you ‘n Tina?”

Tim lifted the gun in his hand. The condemned building eagerly gobbled up the body.

4 responses to “Skeered

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