Child's view

 

Child:

I approached the spooky haunted playground; Jerry told me that if you were swinging on the swings at exactly 10pm on a Saturday you would hear the voice of a REAL ghost. And he heard it from his dad who he told me was the Pope and so I could obviously trust him. Anyway back to the story, I was sneaking up on the old swing set, it was really chilly and I forgot to put on my coat while I was sneaking out the window; I did remember my juice boxes though. if Mom knew I was trying to meet a ghost I’m pretty sure I would become one. 

As I sat down on the swing it kept creaking back and forth back and forth like EHHHHHHNNNAGH and WHOOOSH over and over; I loved swinging on swings, but when I tried to go on them at recess Kyle would push me off them, saying they were only for big kids. I kept going higher and higher until I finally heard a spooky OOOOGGGGGHHHH! It shocked me so hard I flew through the air and smashed the ground with a CRONCH! I landed on my juice box and the side of my face was covered in Fruit Punch Surprise. 

Whirling around I looked for the source of the sound and saw a guy sitting on the slide. He had his head buried in his arms and had his own juice box lying empty next to him, his was made of glass though and it smelled like old uncle Tom after his wife went to heaven. 

Adult: 

Old Saueurpfhmeig park; It was a drab place, built in the seventies after the baby boom happened it was once a happy place of bright, vibrant playground equipment scattered about like toys poured out of a toy chest. But the years had not been kind to it, Drab rusting browns and sunbleached primary colors with the thick scent of gasoline coming from the abandoned British Petroleum nearby. Every couple years there are murmurs in the city council to try and restore the area, but due to the price tag attached those dreams were quickly abandoned. 

The last time I was there was when I celebrated leaving to college with some good old fashioned teenage drinking, the time before that was for a late-night prom romance; but the first time, the first time was when I was just eight; a bright eyed kid who decided to head to the park for a dare, to be honest it wasn’t eventful on my way to the park. It was chilly as hell though, frost clinging onto my eyebrows like a desperate rock climber; my novelty yu-gi-oh t-shirt was not proper attire for the evening. 

I was sitting down on the swing, I can’t fully remember why, it had something to do with the dare I think. Something like: “Swing on the swingset for ten minutes to make the Ghost show up or something like that. The swing was straining with the effort; making whining sounds like a puppy. When I heard a sad scry pierce the rhythm of the whine. It scared little me and I let go of the swing, smacking the ground like a bird that hadn’t fully grown it’s wings. The juice box in my pockets popping and splattering my face with a thick sticky red liquid. 

I bravely faced the source of the noise, expecting some cruel spectre, but instead came face to face with some homeless guy. Well, I assume he was homeless, the thick peagreen army coat was matted was dirt and he was undulated with a miasma of bourbon stench that if you handed him a match I’m pretty sure you’d light him on fire. Empty Jameson bottle rolling past his foot and his eyes, man. His eyes were a cave in complete darkness; empty hopelessness that extinguished all light around him. The same look old uncle Tom had after his wife got hit by a car in ‘00.