The house was always the object of fear
The foreboding tree out front
that seemed hell bent on being creepy at all angles
And the smell…death.
Or what we imagined death smelled like

The neighborhood kids would often dare one another

Ding-Dong Ditch!
Ding-Dong Ditch!!
Do It!
Don’t be a bitch!

Yeah, kids were vicious in 6th grade.
I remember one kid who gave in.
Running away, he tripped on his overly baggy jeans
Bloodying his JNCO’s from the knee all the way down
His Converse were never the same again