𝙳𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝙶𝚒𝚛𝚕𝚜

bike grease in my hair, blood on your jeans, blisters on our feet, huge grins

[nights like these - pigeon pit]

[03]

        The board bent a bit more under your weight, the deck a tad softer, and your past memories of the night blowing through your hair is usually accompanied with a much smoother ride across the pavement.

        You were rusty, that's for sure. A few times a little rock almost had you eating shit-- not the mention you almost fell back when you first put your foot on the deck. You try to recall the last time you went out like this; it was around two- maybe three- summers back. The three of you would head down to local park, messing around in those dingy woods untill you all scared yourselves to running all the way out, laughing till your sides hurt once you all calmed down from your scare. You hadn't been back there since, but you figure now is as good a night as any to reminisce about times you blindly regard as better.

        You would venture out into the forest, collecting cool rocks and little acorns. You recall picking up little creatures, cupping them gently in your hands, terrified to hurt them. Millipedes, lizards, frogs, snails, anything that would walk into your palm. You vividly remember a time when you were all about ten, maybe a bit younger, when a little ladybug invited herself onto your hand. Excited, you ran over to Vic, eager to share your new little friend with the rest of the group. You didn't even have time process what happened. She laughed at the shock on your face as you looked down to your palm, the little bugs body now smeared across your hand. You kept all your little findings to yourself after that. 

        You'd arrived to the parking lot, surrounded by the thick woods. It was about a fifteen minute walk from here to the actual playground, fully equipped with rusted swings and playsets with parts that you were never 100% sure what they even were. Regardless, you were certain that you weren't using them right. 

        Kicking up your board, you grabbed it by the deck, holding it against your hip. The parking lot was expectantly empty, aside from an empty soda cup left on one of the parking blocks that seemed to be enjoying the view of the full moon-- ironically, it sat right next to a trashcan.

        Nobody really went to the park anymore- if kids wanted there daily dose of vitamin D and exercise, they'd have much more fun, and be much more safe, playing in their own yards. The parking lot was unkempt, cigarette buds left in piles in the grass, and the traffic markings were just barely visible. It saddened you just a little to see the place were your childhood truly blossomed neglected, and left to rot.

        There was a specific spot you remembered, off to the left, now almost entirely hidden away by rouge branches and overgrown bushes. They covered up an old bridge, leading to the other side of the park with the playsets. You approached, a cold air falling over you, seemingly coming out of nowhere. 

        Choosing to ignore it, you reach out towards the brush, trying to clear it out of the way. Thick thorns and sharp branches cling onto your skin, decorating your hands with shallow knicks and scratches. Tossing your board through the space you've made, you quickly push yourself through, the branches snapping back into place, snagging onto the back of your shirt. 

        Tugging the fabric back, you stumble forward. Looking around, you find yourself completely blind to whats around you. Squinting, you try to at least locate your board. Needless to say, your efforts are all together useless.

        With an annoyed huff, you pull your phone out of your pocket. As you click it on, the light blinds you. Blinking back in surprise, you aimlessly try to find flashlight icon or toggle. After what felt like an eternity, you were finally granted with light pouring from the camera side of your phone.