The truck backed into a dark alley in the otherwise glistening world. The coating on the walls were peeling, revealing the ugly rust-stained concrete underneath. It was heavily vandalized with graffiti, signs of the rebellious youth who would soon be tamed and perfected to match the rest of the world they live in. There was no telling that this alley was important, unless you look carefully. Underneath the spray paint, right on the peeling coat, there were three small words.
GOVERNMENT OFFICIALS ONLY
The truck driver did not care what it said, he was just here to make a delivery. The address was definitely strange: The only door at the end of the alley covered with graffiti. He was also not allowed to know what he's delivering, not that he ever knows. He, and everybody else in this society, had learned to never question their jobs. It just made their lives easier, and better.
From the rearview mirror the driver watched two men walk out from the rusted door at the end of the alley. They opened the back door to the truck with the keys that every resident in the city owns and removed eleven boxes. Ten large and one small. Then they locked the door again and waved for him to go. So thats what he did, leaving only a cloud of dust to prove he had ever came.
The men carried the boxes through the metal door. And opened them one by one. A few moments later, sounds that definitely didn't belong filled the air, reaching only the door, which has been confirmed soundproof. The sound of toddlers, wailing, echoed in the room behind the door in the vandalized alley.
YOU ARE READING
Playground of Bones
HorrorIt was completely silent. Except for the creak of the swings. There was no wind. No footsteps. No breathing. Then there was a scream. A piercing scream, filled with pain It was muted right away. Welcome to the Playground of Bones
