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Gotcha

“What the heck is THAT!?”
Dave pointed back over my shoulder, a badly acted expression of shock and incredulity on his face but I wasn’t in the mood for stuffing about.
“Yeah yeah, whatever.”
I reached passed Dave for the door we were about to pass through before his little charade but he didn’t budge. I straightened and pushed his arm down to lessen the glare of torch.
“C’mon, stop fuc…”
His mouth was twisted and frozen open in a silent scream, eyes stretched wide and staring. My stomach instantly knotted, a surge of pins and needles shot up my back and over my scalp. Oh my god, what the hell was BEHIND ME?!
“BWAHAHA! GOTCHA!”
He buckled over in hysterics, clutching at my shirt.
“Ohhhh you… I’m never coming back here again you fucking dick!!”
I burst through the door out into late afternoon light. Picking my way over the rotted and broken planks of the old porch I yanked my bike up off the grass, turned back for one last glare at the still giggling Dave before riding home.
Fucking prick.

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