“Go on, climb the gate. I dare you.”
Kids did. And no one ever died—but I heard a boy got tetanus. I couldn’t help but feel watched.
“What are you kids doing?”
We all jumped. It was the old man, pushing his cart, wearing that threadbare business suit he always did. He’d been here as long as any of us could remember and was another example of what happened if you stayed in this neighborhood too long.
I shivered. “Let’s get out of here,” I said.
But it was a long time before any of us did.
This has been another edition of the fabulous Friday Fictioneers hosted by the generous Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Photo prompt courtesy David Stewart. To read more or to contribute your own flash fiction, click the blue froggy button: