We Thought We Found A Dead Hooker In The Woods, But It Turned Out To Be Something Much Worse

The three of us stood at once and began to run, nobody daring to even glance back as we grabbed our bikes and started to pedal our happy asses out of those woods as fast as our little legs would allow.

When we finally reached the clearing adjacent to the train-tracks, Dwayne skidded to a stop and spun his head around to examine the dirt path we had just exited. After squinting into the darkness for a few beats, he muttered, “Could’a sworn I heard somebody chasing us the whole way.”

I nodded and turned the front of my bike, using its light to illuminate the clearly empty path as I replied, “Me too… Probably the adrenalin messing with us.”

Richie snapped his fingers and said, “Yeah, like that thing you get ‘cause of cavemen that Miss Warren was telling us about in class, remember? A  fight-or-flight response. And we definitely flight’ed just now.”

Dwayne and I exchanged an amused smirk and the two of us suddenly erupted in a fit of nervous laughter.

“WHAT?” Richie said, his brow furrowed in confusion as he looked at me and then Dwayne and then took a moment to think back before finally shouting, “Fucking FLEW! Whatever…”

But that only made us laugh louder.

“You guys are assholes.”

I managed to stop giggling long enough to reply, “Why, you think we should’ve fight’ed him?”

Dwayne’s laughter amplified as he pressed a hand to his stomach and bent forward, tears welling in his eyes. And sure, I never really liked Dwayne. I’ve made that much clear and let’s not forget that he turned out to be a violent racist, but I’ll give him this much: