Photo Story: The Dare

Image of snowy Brooklyn streets at night.Blister heat, sunstroke heat. Melted tar, fried egg heat. T-shirt stuck to the small of my back heat, bunched wet and sour under my armpits heat.

Nothing to do but swap dares heat.

My sister chewed the spent end of her popsicle stick. “Run down the street naked.”

Our neighbors were outside. Our mother was watching us from an open bedroom window. I shook my head. My sweat sprayed her sunglasses.

But I didn’t say “No.” I said, “Later.”

Blister cold, windburn cold. Cracked windshield, black ice cold. Chattering teeth cold, chapped asscheeks cold.

“Go,” my sister dares. I run.


Joanna Theiss writes, collages, and admires backyard birds in Washington, DC. Find links to her flash fiction and micros at

Photographer: Roman Kruglov

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *