𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞

𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚗𝚎: 𝚋𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚛𝚢.

𝘾𝙧𝙖𝙨𝙝! Sommed laughter implied.

"Dinner is served, baby." Joel swiftly pulled his madra collar over his head, hardly guffawing as we tore from the rock house.

"Don't say that!" I jeered breathily as we bounded.

We ran and tore away from the Robinsons property. The only thing on my mind was the fuzz we saw circling before we even threw the rock.

In the window.

Of the Robinsons house.

—I repeated that sentence a few times in my head.

My feet hurt where the sneaker bottom was thin and the street concrete seemed harder than ever.
It wasn't long before I realized, Joel's wish came true, and the hair on the back of my neck stood tall.
There, before and behind, bright hurting purple lights commanded over the nearby neighborhood houses.

Johnny scowled and cussed a blue streak between breaths.
We made tracks to the old house that we'd call The old man's mansion, Where the old folks had lived.
It had a persuasive scent of urine, mud- brown siding; Chipping, A few glassless windows and trashbags taped around some missing. It had a knee- tall picket fence around it patchedly. And this eery black door without a deck in-front.

Johnny would tell me the old folks went crazy, and the caretakers were quacks.

Behind it, we were huddled together as if we were in antartica with only a match lit. The cold breeze mixed with the scarce and trembling of our jaws made the aroma horrifying.

"We can't get in trouble for this again," Joel said. "My folks will kill me."

"Then shut your trap, Maybe they won't hear about it." I hardly backhanded Joel's shoulder.

"Look who's talkin'." Johnny said, sourly, but keeping his voice down.

Before I knew it, and after the long awaited, stretched footsteps of heavy boots across the side yard of the runt-down house, Flashlights lit onto our faces, blinding ones, too.

The expensive ones, just like the ones that my uncle Rod used when he was a Deputy sheriff, the one that he accidentally dropped into the cilo of my family's uptight farm.
Instantly the thought of my childhood farm came into mind. I swatted the bitter -- sweet thought away and also the light, but my hand did not stop the tawdry light, that seemed like it was jumping into my eyes.
The man grabbed me and Johnny. A deep, sophisticated v0ice reeled us:

"What was that back there?" And the dude looked like he was going to shred us.

I could only make his face out by the beacons recycled light. Not even the moon could light anything up. Anyway, the moon was covered by the tall house, towering over us.
I felt them backing up. And someone nudged me, I think it was Joel, but to be honest I was too fastened. My face was bare. Bare. Bare. I jumped up, becoming rob from the fuzz's grip though my legs were shakier than ever and as we ran through wooded areas, contrary to the pristine and quiet neighborhood my head spiraled and I'm sure the boy's did too.
Gasps and shrieks shook between the noise of the leaves and branches crunched.
I felt like my legs were gonna fall off and keep running, but somehow my upper-body hurt more.
"Come on, kid." Johnny merely gulped like he cared, but only because I was probably a foot- and a half behind them. I knew--- I was certain Johnny didn't dig me much. It always was weird between us; Unkinly. . . and He was sour with me, like I had always made him absolutely psychotic. I didn't get along with Joel Cunningham, either, as he acted he was too good for me, Johnny too sometimes.