“Come” Monu beckoned him, “It will be fun!”
He has walked past this area dozen of times, only from up above- by the bridge. He never thought someone will come down here “to have fun”.
They have hookied the school and Monu had made him spend all his pocket money on a bottle of whisky.
“Grow up!” was all he has heard when he has feebly protested.
They settled down under the bridge. It was dark there, deserted but littered with bottles and butts of cigarettes- saying a tell tale story of others who frequented the place.
“Give me a swig…” a nasal voice rang out, they both turned back to face the person and screamed as loudly as they could.
floating a few feet above the ground was a skeleton arm without a body attached to it.
“Just one swig…not the whole bottle…” they heard followed by a chuckle as they scampered up the slope to reach the road above.