Coulro

Chapter 6: Ring Around the Rosie

The flashing colors of the gross neon aesthetics of the more child-friendly lights disgusted me. They hurt my eyes with their bright contrast to the dull purple of the world. The ground below was sticky, either from blood-splatters, decaying gum and soda or candy.

A creaking noise of rusted chains swiveled up and down in a specific rhythm showing that the machines and rides were still somewhat functionable. The teacup ride circled around in a sad motion. The teacup seats themselves were chipped with some showing signs of demolished walls and floors. Ugh...there's corpses with blood pooling in some of them.

The large ferris wheel swayed sadly, its carts going in a circular motion but empty. The amusement park itself made me feel all types of uneasiness, other than the obvious monsters. Amusement parks were full of life and happiness, and ordinarily a place someone could have fun. At least I remembered doing so when I was a kid. But it pained me to think that Zach wandered in here expecting a fairyland but instead only found disappointment and cold, hard terror. Or worse— No! Stop it.

The current park was the opposite of any known imagination of what an amusement park should be. The palace reeked of pain and death. The once magical environment was now filled with the cruel reality of blood.

The weeds growing into the brick destroyed the image of something being maintained and decorated. The rotting food destroyed the image of tasty food and a fun time. The ruined rides destroyed the image of safe, marvelous thrills. It's all so sad...and so creepy.

A caterpillar ride, probably meant for young kids, strolled to a stop beside me. Its rickety body wore down with skid marks along the rails. Whatever rubber insulated the mechanism and the rails had been clearly rubbed off for a while. The sad face of the worm was blackened and ashy with what looked like traces of motor oil.

I remember riding this ride before. It used to look so happy and cuddly even if it seemed stupid. My uncle said I took a lot of photos here before. He would go on about how this was the first ride he and my mother rode on when this park was first built.

I smiled thinking about my uncle as a younger brother being cradled around by his older sister. The image of my mother was a fleeting thing, even if I had seen her in pictures. I knew her eye color, her hair color, her skin color, her height and even the shape of her eyebrows and noses. However, every time my brain tried to compile all that information into the memory of her face, it seemed like each piece of her expression changed. The nose and the eyes would shift and the change confused me. My memory constantly shifted like that. It was worse with my father.

In a way, this caterpillar reminded me of that. How change can be something that occurs continuously even if we're certain in a concrete stage. In time, if this park continued to exist in working order, maybe the caterpillar could have had a new addition to the ride. Maybe it could have metamorphosed into a cocoon; in time, blossomed into a butterfly.

As a kid I ran for fun. In highschool I ran track. Now, I run for a life as well as mine. Have I changed? Have my memories changed? You could say that merely the things I have memories of have changed, but maybe it's that my memories have been constantly changing.

What if I, as a kid, saw this exact place, obviously not as horrifically but still maybe not as pleasant, and thought it was ten times better than it really was. As kids, we choose to believe in fantasy. We want to hope. Maybe that's why Zach came here. He wanted to validate his fantasies. He'd never seen it after all.

In the end, this caterpillar was hideous, and even if it was cute and cuddly before, it surely wasn't anymore. I wish to have seen my mother and my uncle play here, but I know that's not possible. Only the image of my mother and the fantasy I give to her and my uncle exist.