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The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/Wooleyty on 2024-04-09 04:27:23.
My parents had just passed away about a year before all this. They officially committed suicide but I know my parents, they would never do that. I don’t know if they were murdered or it was an accident but I can’t believe that they did that. I had been staying at their place the last year after they died. Since coming here I’ve had these nightmares about the amusement park we will just call “The Amusement Park” for anonymity.
The amusement park lay in ruins, a forgotten relic of a bygone era. The rusted Ferris wheel towered over the decaying midway, its skeletal arms stretching out like accusing fingers. The merry-go-round’s painted horses were faded and peeling, their once-vibrant colors now muted by time and neglect. The air was thick with an eerie stillness, punctuated only by the distant groan of rusted metal and the rustling of leaves in the long-neglected gardens. It was a place of shadow and secrets, a place where nightmares came to life.
My name is Alex, and I’ve been experiencing these nightmares for as long as I can remember. They always start the same way: I’m lost in this abandoned amusement park, running from something unspeakable. I wake up in a cold sweat, my heart racing.
But the worst part is that I can’t remember ever visiting this place. I’ve tried to talk to my therapist about it, but she doesn’t seem to understand the depth of my fear.
As if the nightmares weren’t enough, lately I’ve been experiencing these strange flashes of memory whenever I’m near the park. Images of a terrified child being dragged through the darkened corridors, a sinister laugh echoing through the abandoned ticket booths. Each time, I swear I see a shadowy figure following me, watching my every move. It’s almost as if I’m being haunted.
Despite my growing unease, I can’t help but feel drawn to the park. It’s like some irresistible force is pulling me back. I’ve tried to stay away, to move on with my life, but the memories and the nightmares persist. Finally, I decide to confront my fears and return to the place that has haunted my dreams for as long as I can remember.
As I approach the park, the memories flood back in. Flashes of terror and pain consume my senses, making it difficult to focus on the present. I force myself to walk through the gates, my heart pounding in my chest. The familiar scent of popcorn and sweat hangs in the air, mingling with the musty odor of neglect. The rusty Ferris wheel creaks ominously overhead, as if warning me to turn back.
But I can’t turn back. I have to face my demons, whatever they may be. I begin to wander aimlessly through the park, feeling as if I’m in a dream. Everywhere I look, there are reminders of my past: the abandoned ticket booths with their faded posters, the overgrown gardens where I once played as a child. It’s as if the park itself is a living, breathing manifestation of my memories.
As I explore further, I come across an abandoned carnival game, its metal frame twisted and rusted. In the center of the game, a creepy clown’s painted smile seems to mock me. I shiver, unable to tear my eyes away from the ghastly visage. Suddenly, I hear footsteps behind me. I whirl around, my heart pounding in my chest.
But it’s only a groundskeeper, an older man with a tired expression. He eyes me warily, as if unsure of why I’m here. I open my mouth to speak, to ask him about the history of the park, but the words catch in my throat. He must sense my fear, because he nods sympathetically.
“It’s a sad place, isn’t it?” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “So much life and joy once, and now…” He trails off, shaking his head. “People say it’s cursed. I don’t know about that, but…” He gestures vaguely around us.
I nod, unable to speak. The weight of the park’s history presses down on me, making it difficult to breathe. “Do you know why it closed?” I manage to choke out. “Is there any reason… any explanation?”
The groundskeeper sighs heavily, his shoulders slumping. “There were rumors, of course. People said it was because of the accident, that the owners couldn’t bear the guilt. Others said it was the economy, that they just couldn’t compete anymore. But…” He pauses, glancing around again, as if he’s afraid someone might be listening. “There were always whispers. Strange things happening here, things that shouldn’t.”
He shakes his head, as if clearing away the memories, and offers me a half-hearted smile. "But that’s just talk. Gossip.”
I nod, not sure what else to say. The weight of the park’s history feels like an anchor, dragging me down into the depths of my fears. Despite the groundskeeper’s words, I can’t help but feel as if there’s more to the story. As if the park is hiding something. As if it’s haunted.” He stared at me with no expression, “well, you should be getting out of here anyways. Private property and all.”
As I turn to leave, I notice a small, overgrown path leading deeper into the park. On impulse, I decide to follow it, driven by a strange mixture of curiosity and dread. The path winds its way through a dense grove of trees, their branches intertwined overhead like a canopy of bones. The air grows cool and damp, the sunlight struggling to penetrate the dense foliage.
As I walk, I can’t shake the feeling that I’m not alone. The sense of being watched is almost palpable, as if the very trees themselves are alive and aware of my presence. The farther I venture into the grove, the stronger the feeling becomes. I fight down a rising sense of panic, telling myself it’s just my imagination, that there’s nothing here but nature.
But then, I see it. A flicker of movement out of the corner of my eye, something small and gray darting between the trees. My heart leaps into my throat, and I spin around, my hands trembling. It’s a cat, I realize, a stray cat. Its coat is matted and dirty, and it has the most haunted expression I’ve ever seen. It regards me warily, as if trying to decide whether or not I pose a threat.
I swallow hard, trying to steady my breath. “Hello,” I manage to choke out. “Are you lost?” The cat remains motionless, its gaze unwavering. “It’s okay,” I say softly. “You can come with me if you want.”
Slowly, cautiously, the cat edges closer. It’s like it’s testing my intentions, trying to decide whether or not I’m trustworthy. I hold out a trembling hand, palm up. After a moment’s hesitation, the cat carefully climbs into my hand. Its fur is soft and warm, and it purrs contentedly as I scratch behind its ear.
As I continue to walk through the grove, the cat seems to grow more comfortable with me, occasionally darting ahead to explore a new branch or bush before returning to my side. The weight of the park’s history still presses down on me, but somehow the presence of this small, lost creature makes it feel less oppressive.
Suddenly, a loud crash of metal falling is heard and the cat leaps out of my hand and runs off. I tried to chase him but I couldn’t find him anywhere until suddenly, I hear a loud scream from the cat, off to my right. It was like a scream, then yelp, then silence. I froze as I knew he was dead.
I turn around and see nothing but trees, no one was there. I feel a chill run down my spine and shiver. I can’t help but think that someone must have stabbed the cat, or maybe even killed him with a blunt object.
I hear another crash, this time closer. My heart pounds in my chest as I realize that whatever’s making these noises is getting closer. I try to calm myself down, but fear is rising up inside me, making it hard to breathe.
I start to back away slowly, trying to put some distance between myself and whatever’s causing the commotion. The path seems to narrow, the trees closing in around me like a tunnel. I feel trapped, panic rising with every step.
Another crash echoes through the grove, louder than before. It sounds like metal twisting and snapping, like a sculpture being warped out of shape. I peer through the trees, straining to see anything in the darkness. My heart is racing, my breath coming in ragged gasps.
Suddenly, a figure steps into my line of sight. He’s tall impossibly tall and broad-shouldered, his features obscured by the shadows. As he began lurching toward me, I ran.
My breath comes in ragged gasps as I push myself to run faster, my lungs burning with the effort. The figure behind me seems to gain ground with each stride, closing in on me with an unnerving speed. I run for the exit and make my way out of the park. As I look back I can see that the figure has stopped right before the exit and it was watching me as I ran for my life.
Shaking uncontrollably, I manage to find my way to a nearby payphone and dial 911. My hands are trembling so badly that I can barely hold the receiver. The operator picks up, their voice calm and reassuring. I try to tell them what happened, but the words won’t come out right. My breath is ragged, my thoughts jumbled. They keep asking me questions, but all I can do is stare down the dark alley, waiting for the police to arrive.
When they finally get here, two officers step out of their squad car. They approach me cautiously, their hands on their holsters. They ask me what happened, and I try to explain, but it sounds even more unbelievable now that I’m saying it out loud. They ask me to show them where it happened, and reluctantly, I lead them back into the park.
The officers listen to my story, their eyes flicking back and forth between me and the trees. They ask …
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