shorts, stories and scraps

the park

A/N: Australian Gothic landscape/gothic writing exercise. I think we'll be hearing more of a character called Abby. Feedback welcome!

The flickering overhead lamp flashed a low light on the path. Abby paced slowly, creeping through the absent breeze. Plastic and metal were barely visible beneath the moonlight. She felt bark beneath her bare, soft soles and fell utterly still. Everyone knew not to enter the park at night.

It wasn't her fault Connor left his bunny here, but he was only four, and it was only up the street. It wasn't her fault Connor was playing there in the first place either. And it certainly wasn't her fault their mother hadn't glanced at Connor since he was born. But Abby had long since learnt fault and blame was pointless. She needed to protect him.

A violent shiver strikes her spine as her eyes hopelessly search the ground. It wasn't the cold, but the lack of it. There was no wind, and yet the swing swung, and the leaves shook, and the grass rustled. Creatures, ghosts, monsters. The subject varied, but the stories were the same. Souls roamed during the dark. Playing, hunting, chasing.

Prints marked tracks in the dirt, but she had neither the visibility nor the experience to comprehend them as human or animal; as Connor's prints, or something far more unfamiliar. Eyes peered at her figure, from behind trees and beneath rocks. Something scurried past, too slow to escape her attention, but too fast to be identified. Even her beating heart boomed too loud amongst the silent air.

Their mother may not have the patience for Connor's cries if Abby failed to find the bunny. Calling for confidence, Abby held her breath and took a quiet step into menacing alien territory.