Too many nooks and crannies. Too many hiding places.
I pull up the sleeves of my hoodie, all of a sudden not feeling so cold. Why the hell are we here?
Looking to my right, I notice a black Ford Raptor sitting under a cover of trees on the edge of the parking lot, and the windows are blacked out. Is someone inside?
A shiver runs up my spine, and I rub my arms.
Maybe one of Trey’s or J.D.’s friends brought their own car tonight.
“Hoo, hoo, hoo,” a voice calls out, imitating an owl. I tear my eyes away from the Raptor, and we all look up in the direction of the noise.
“Oh, my God!” Lyla bursts out, laughing. “You guys are crazy!”
I shake my head as Ten and Lyla hoot and holler, running toward the Ferris wheel just inside the gate. Scaling the grungy yellow poles about fifty feet above us, between the cars of the old ride, is Lyla’s boyfriend, J.D., and his buddy, Bryce.
“Come on,” Lyla says, climbing over the guard rail toward the Ferris wheel. “Let’s go see.”
“See what?” I ask. “Rides that don’t run?”
She races off, ignoring me, and Ten laughs.
“Come on.” He takes my hand and pulls me away from the ride.
I follow him as we head deeper into the park, both of us wandering down the wide lanes that were once packed with crowds of people. I look left and right, equal parts fascinated and creeped out.
Doors hang off hinges, creaking in the breeze, and moonlight glimmers off the glass lying on the ground beneath broken windows. The wind blows through the elephant and hot air balloon cars on the kids’ rides, and everything is hollow and dark. We walk past the carousel, and I see rain puddles sitting on the platform and dirt coating the chipped paint of the horses.
I remember riding that when I was little. It’s one of the only memories I have of my father before he split.
The yelling and squealing of our friends fade away as we keep walking farther into the park, our pace slowing as I take in how much still remains.
This place used to be full of laughter and screams of delight, and now it’s abandoned and left to decay alone, all of the joy it once contained forgotten.
A few short years. That’s all it’s been since Adventure Cove closed its gates.
But regardless, deserted and neglected, it’s still here. I inhale a deep breath, taking in the smell of old wood, moisture, and salt. Deserted and neglected, I’m still here, I’m still here, I’ll always be here…
I laugh to myself. There’s a song lyric for you, Misha.
I stroll behind Ten, thinking of all the musings I’ve mailed my pen pal over the years that he’s turned into songs. If he ever makes it big, he owes me royalties.
“Kind of sad,” Ten says, wandering past gaming booths and letting his hand graze the wooden frames. “I remember coming here. Still feels like it’s alive, doesn’t it?”
The night wind sweeps down the empty lanes between the booths and food stands, sending my fly-aways floating around me. The air wraps around my legs and blows against my sweatshirt, plastering it to my body like a skin as chills start to spread up my neck.
All of a sudden I feel surrounded.
Like I’m inside the still funnel of a violent tornado.
Like I’m being watched.
I cross my arms over my chest as I hurry up next to Ten. “What are you doing?” I ask, trying to cover my jitters with annoyance.
He pulls at the shutter of one of the wooden gaming booths, and although it gives a little, it won’t lift completely due to the padlock keeping it shut. “Getting you a teddy bear,” he answers as if I should’ve known that.
“You really think they still have prizes in there after all these years?”
“Well, it’s locked, isn’t it?”
I chuckle and continue to watch as he grabs the side with both hands and heaves backward.
“J.D., stop it!” Lyla’s voice rings out in the distance, and I look up to see their dark forms still climbing the Ferris wheel.
“Aha!” Someone else laughs.
Ten gives up on the yanking and starts inspecting the lock, as if he can just pull it open, when I drop my gaze and notice the grungy and shredded red and white plastic table skirt underneath the shutter on the bottom half of the booth.
I lightly kick my foot out, seeing the plastic give way as it flaps back and forth, indicating Ten’s way in.
He stops, forgetting the shutter, and scowls at the skirt. “I knew that.”
“Then go get me a teddy bear,” I demand, giving him a small smile.
And he dips down on his hands and knees, mumbling as he crawls through the table skirt. “Yes, Your Highness.”
“Use your phone for light!” I shout as he disappears inside.
“Duh.”
I laugh at his muffled attitude. Out of everyone I call a friend at school, Ten is the closest to the real deal. Not as close as Misha, but close. I don’t have to fake it much around him.
The only thing that holds me back from getting too attached to him is his friendship with Lyla. If I left the security of my fragile little circle, would he come with me?
I honestly don’t know.
“No teddy bears!” he calls. “But they have inflatables!”
Like beach balls?
“Are they still inflatable?” I joke.
But he doesn’t answer.
I lean in close to the shutter, training my ears. “Ten?”
I hear nothing.
The hair on my arms stand on end, and I straighten, calling again, this time louder. “Ten? Are you okay?”
I pull up the sleeves of my hoodie, all of a sudden not feeling so cold. Why the hell are we here?
Looking to my right, I notice a black Ford Raptor sitting under a cover of trees on the edge of the parking lot, and the windows are blacked out. Is someone inside?
A shiver runs up my spine, and I rub my arms.
Maybe one of Trey’s or J.D.’s friends brought their own car tonight.
“Hoo, hoo, hoo,” a voice calls out, imitating an owl. I tear my eyes away from the Raptor, and we all look up in the direction of the noise.
“Oh, my God!” Lyla bursts out, laughing. “You guys are crazy!”
I shake my head as Ten and Lyla hoot and holler, running toward the Ferris wheel just inside the gate. Scaling the grungy yellow poles about fifty feet above us, between the cars of the old ride, is Lyla’s boyfriend, J.D., and his buddy, Bryce.
“Come on,” Lyla says, climbing over the guard rail toward the Ferris wheel. “Let’s go see.”
“See what?” I ask. “Rides that don’t run?”
She races off, ignoring me, and Ten laughs.
“Come on.” He takes my hand and pulls me away from the ride.
I follow him as we head deeper into the park, both of us wandering down the wide lanes that were once packed with crowds of people. I look left and right, equal parts fascinated and creeped out.
Doors hang off hinges, creaking in the breeze, and moonlight glimmers off the glass lying on the ground beneath broken windows. The wind blows through the elephant and hot air balloon cars on the kids’ rides, and everything is hollow and dark. We walk past the carousel, and I see rain puddles sitting on the platform and dirt coating the chipped paint of the horses.
I remember riding that when I was little. It’s one of the only memories I have of my father before he split.
The yelling and squealing of our friends fade away as we keep walking farther into the park, our pace slowing as I take in how much still remains.
This place used to be full of laughter and screams of delight, and now it’s abandoned and left to decay alone, all of the joy it once contained forgotten.
A few short years. That’s all it’s been since Adventure Cove closed its gates.
But regardless, deserted and neglected, it’s still here. I inhale a deep breath, taking in the smell of old wood, moisture, and salt. Deserted and neglected, I’m still here, I’m still here, I’ll always be here…
I laugh to myself. There’s a song lyric for you, Misha.
I stroll behind Ten, thinking of all the musings I’ve mailed my pen pal over the years that he’s turned into songs. If he ever makes it big, he owes me royalties.
“Kind of sad,” Ten says, wandering past gaming booths and letting his hand graze the wooden frames. “I remember coming here. Still feels like it’s alive, doesn’t it?”
The night wind sweeps down the empty lanes between the booths and food stands, sending my fly-aways floating around me. The air wraps around my legs and blows against my sweatshirt, plastering it to my body like a skin as chills start to spread up my neck.
All of a sudden I feel surrounded.
Like I’m inside the still funnel of a violent tornado.
Like I’m being watched.
I cross my arms over my chest as I hurry up next to Ten. “What are you doing?” I ask, trying to cover my jitters with annoyance.
He pulls at the shutter of one of the wooden gaming booths, and although it gives a little, it won’t lift completely due to the padlock keeping it shut. “Getting you a teddy bear,” he answers as if I should’ve known that.
“You really think they still have prizes in there after all these years?”
“Well, it’s locked, isn’t it?”
I chuckle and continue to watch as he grabs the side with both hands and heaves backward.
“J.D., stop it!” Lyla’s voice rings out in the distance, and I look up to see their dark forms still climbing the Ferris wheel.
“Aha!” Someone else laughs.
Ten gives up on the yanking and starts inspecting the lock, as if he can just pull it open, when I drop my gaze and notice the grungy and shredded red and white plastic table skirt underneath the shutter on the bottom half of the booth.
I lightly kick my foot out, seeing the plastic give way as it flaps back and forth, indicating Ten’s way in.
He stops, forgetting the shutter, and scowls at the skirt. “I knew that.”
“Then go get me a teddy bear,” I demand, giving him a small smile.
And he dips down on his hands and knees, mumbling as he crawls through the table skirt. “Yes, Your Highness.”
“Use your phone for light!” I shout as he disappears inside.
“Duh.”
I laugh at his muffled attitude. Out of everyone I call a friend at school, Ten is the closest to the real deal. Not as close as Misha, but close. I don’t have to fake it much around him.
The only thing that holds me back from getting too attached to him is his friendship with Lyla. If I left the security of my fragile little circle, would he come with me?
I honestly don’t know.
“No teddy bears!” he calls. “But they have inflatables!”
Like beach balls?
“Are they still inflatable?” I joke.
But he doesn’t answer.
I lean in close to the shutter, training my ears. “Ten?”
I hear nothing.
The hair on my arms stand on end, and I straighten, calling again, this time louder. “Ten? Are you okay?”
