“Don’t!”, Ibrahim’s voice resonated in the silence.
“Why can’t I follow that lane?”, Sana protested. Ibrahim lingered a moment too long in indecision and his sister, Sana, turned towards the opposite street when her hand was jerked backwards.
“Rumour has it, the new tenants of funky munky are cultists“, Ibrahim conceded. Then added, “you know, blood drinkers”.
“I know what cultists are”, Sana retorted, rubbing her wrist where he’d grabbed her.
She looked at the eccentric house- With its curtain-tight windows and closed door, the place looked empty, as was the norms of the houses in the area. The only audible sounds were the occasional screeching of passing cars.
Ibrahim’s thick black brows were furrowed and he wore his lips in a thin line- Sana decided he was serious. They walked in silence before He broke the ice,
“So, I guess we’re back to not talking huh?“
Her silence was enough answer. Ibrahim smiled, knowing his sister couldn’t stay mad if her life depended on it. They’d soon as well make up.
word cont: 172 words. The above story is in response to Flash Fiction For Aspiring Writers photo prompt challenge, where each week we are provided with a picture and required a 75-175 word story on it. Thank you @TJParis for providing us with his week’s picture.