Abandoned

Preface

3/2/19 

Abandoned places are supposed to be silent.

So why did we hear manic laughter every time we closed our eyes? Why did we hear screams that never got closer? I guess that kind of thing happens when you go looking for something that's better off forgotten.

It was halloween of 2013. Almost six years ago. I still remember every detail of that night... Everything I shouldn't have done-- Everything I wish I could erase. Instead, I'm stuck reliving it every night. Insomnia or sleep paralysis, there's no in between for me anymore. I feel blood on my skin no matter how violently I wash myself. I often find my eyes glued open, as if I were still paralyzed in fear. Paranoia was never a problem for me until that night. I remember how I used to mock my twin sister about how jumpy she was. Now all I can do is remember her.

Aspen. I feel sick thinking about her. The memory of her smile tears through me like a serrated knife to the chest.

I'm exhausted. I feel myself fade away with every exhale, and I'm not sure how much longer I can handle the past. I suppose this is a last resort; Writing out what happened, telling my story. Maybe it's more of a warning. Whatever it is, I don't want it stuck in my head anymore.

Something's behind me. They're always lurking in the shadows around me. I used to only see them in the corners of my eyes but they've gotten bolder over time. Now I stare them in the eyes as I try to sleep. They know I'm weak. They want me dead. I've accepted this. I just hope they wait until I'm done explaining myself.

This creature in particular scares me more than the rest. It stands outside of my window. Constantly staring in at me, watching everything I do. This is particularly alarming considering my window is on the fifth flour of an apartment building. I've only gotten close to it once. It's almost human, the height alone proves it's not, but along with the off putting proportions of its body, its features are hidden underneath its skin. Almost like a snake that desperately needs to shed. Its teeth chews on the flesh covering its mouth, and on quiet nights it's impossible not to hear.  Every now and then it'll tap on the glass, as if it wants to tell me something. The taps get more aggressive every day. 

The reason I mention this is because I can feel its grossly distorted hands pressing into the back of my chair as I write.

...

Abandoned places are supposed to be empty.

This one wasn't.

The place my sister and I traveled to used to be a theme park. Devoid of people due to a massacre that occurred only a few weeks after it opened in 1990. Two years before Aspen and I were born. It was never torn down, just left to rot. Not that the government didn't try to get rid of it, but every time they tried the construction workers were found dead. No one figured out how or why, but eventually they gave up when the workers kept refusing to take the job. I figured out how they died, so did my sister.

People don't always believe in ghost stories though. I keep thinking that maybe if I didn't believe in ghosts, nothing would've happened. I have to remind myself that's not how things work. If I didn't believe beforehand, I would've afterwards.

Most of the time I wish I died with my sister, buried next to all the victims of that place. It's name was the "Carnival of Cheer."

How ironic.