The secret park

The road was new and smooth, so new there were no cars whatsoever. The boy had ridden for hours. Hours heading away from home were all that mattered. He was angry, with the world with his own weakness. The sun was high, the sky a hazy tainted blue, tainted with pink brown smokestack fumes. A breeze kept the white cement cool. Roads, with stop lights and cars and horrible people crossed overhead. How he hated people, thought the boy and how here surrounded by many millions he was yet alone. People were bullies mean jealous. How he hated other boys, teasing and tricking him. How he hated girls more, always taunting him, leading him on, laughing right in his face! Grown up people were sinister, bent on controlling him. They bossed him around, held him higher than the low life bullies were ever held. One bully, Arnie never once completed a single assignment, nor passed a test or even answered a single question in class. The boy’s grade was hardly above that, despite completing every assignment, passing most of the tests, being somewhat open and eager in class. And he gets a D! The thought burned. Summer was here, and all he could do was ride.
He passed beneath another bridge and realized it was a rail bridge. There was a grassy slope leading up to it, unfenced and open. He raced the bike up the hill, ending up on foot hauling the bike up with him. There were four sets of tracks stretching away into the distance. Trees grew tight onto the tracks. There would no taking the bike off the tracks now. He did not care. Blank walls loomed beyond the overgrowth. Metal windowless walls, piles of rusty junk, a stack of blue barrels leaking sickly green ooze lined the fenced in industrial area. He was happy: no one could see him. He could see no one which suited him well. A bush invited him in. It was alone away from the trees right on the fence. Thorns an inch long impeded progress, dragging the bike in with him added to the work he was hot and tired, but he was inside the bush. Away from people children grown ups every one.
Inside it was still quiet peaceful. He could not believe it could be so nice. He cleaned a spot curled up and fell asleep.
Birds chirping nearby awoke him. The sun was nearly gone, but it was still bright. Clouds billowing flowing thick clouds now rolled swiftly across the sky. He ate a sandwich, littering the plastic bag into the breeze. It caught just right and lifted out of sight. He watched it longingly. He wished he could float away forever.
He looked down the track, saw the fading light. Now he wished he was not so far from home. A light far down the line told him a train was coming. He could not go back that way.

It was at this moment, looking for a place to hide from the train, that he saw the stairs. Old cement stairs led down from the tracks, into a huge bramble of bushes trees and vines. There was a handrail rail rusted black, the steps were coated with leaves, a spider web, loaded with dead leaves and twigs dominated the center of the stairwell. Spiders were awesome waiting their chance, then pouncing. He knew just by looking this web was abandoned.

He went under the web clawing through the brush. The bike was forgotten tangled in the branches of the original hiding place one bush over. Things clawed at him, tugging his clothes scraping his hands catching his face with tiny prickers…

He reached an iron fence, old thick but not rusted, the bars just narrow enough to prevent easy access. He climbed the nearest tree leaned over the top of the fence, and fell over with a thump.

The sun was not as low as he had at first thought; it was bright green and bright blue. He was in a park. At one end a narrow opening for autos, on all sides the high iron fence, houses on two sides, and the train tracks on one, open road on the opposite. He walked towards the swing set. It was tall iron with thick chains and wooden seats, it looked old but the metal shone and the wood was green. He sat in the swing wondering how to get back over the fence his bike lay tangled in the vines, when a voice startled him.

“Hello.” It was the voice of a girl.” Would you like to play?”

He distrusted girls, mean spiteful lying girls his only experience. He turned slowly and saw a cute little girl in blue flower dress. Her smile was real he could not help but smile back. They played on the swing him pushing her, she pushing him. They played tag running the length for the field squealing with delight. They had no ball but played catch with a pinecone. The girl never spoke again but only smiled and laughed. The sun was dipping below the trees, the park lay in shadow.

“Let’s play hide-and –seek.” She said, excitedly. He looked around at the open space shrugged and turned to the swing set and began counting.

“One, two, three…” he started. He heard her slink off with a giggle.

“One hundred.” He announced proudly. She was no where to be seen. He ran behind the swings: no one was in sight. He looked the length of the park, finally walking the perimeter slowly. He saw no place she might hide, and thought just for a moment he had been tricked again.

He was along the house side of the park looking across at the tracks and the wall of green beyond the fence. He was about to abandon the game when he noticed a hole in the iron rungs. A hole dug by a dog or and animal went under the fence into a yard with a shed. He crawled under she would have to be there.

The yard was filled with garbage; broken picket fence pieces plastic bags, piles of junk here and there. No sign of the little girl. He went behind the shed where weeds grew crazily, he could see no evidence that any one had walked into the weeds and was ready to leave when a voice boomed.

“Hey! Get out get out of there.” It was a mean old man voice, gravely, cold. He jumped at the sound. “What are you doing back there?”

“Nothing, just playing hide-and-seek.”

The back door opened with a crunch and a huge old man half bald burst into the yard. He started towards the boy who backed into the weeds frightened out his mind. The man was far madder than he should be; he was red and spitting as he yelled. He caught the boy near the corner, gripping him tightly by the collar.

“What are you doing here boy?” the man was mad his hands like iron claws held the boy up against the fence..

“Playing hide and seek I look for a little girl I think is hiding in your shed.”

If the boy thought the man was mad before he was mistaken. The old man’s eyes swelled blackly, his lips pulled into a truly terrifying grin. The boy could only shake like a leaf.

“What did you say?” The words oozed out the man’s mouth slowly. The boy could only shake his head in fear.

The old man picked him up bodily and held him eye to eye

I am looking for a little girl, we played in the park, and she has brown hair in pigtails, blue eyes wearing a blue flower dress…”

The man thru the boy to the earth in a fit and the boy honestly felt he would kick him in the next moment, and curled up reflexively.

A voice cut the air. Mr. Johnson! Is that a young boy on your property?” A younger man stood in the next yard, leaning on a baseball bat. You like young boys too?”

“He is trespassing!” The old man’s voice cracked.

“Yeah sure he is.

The boy lying in the weeds sat still, looking at something along the garage, where the wall met the earth. It was a corner of a piece of cloth, blue flowers on a cream background. He reached for it, it was coming out of the ground, buried tattered and old. The old man continued yelling at the younger man, who responded in kind.

“Call the police, I want you to, I will tell them how you were about to kick a child you had around the throat. Are you allowed to be around children?”

“He was trespassing!”

The boy jumped up screaming pointing to the ground and thing he uncovered.

It was a dress a blue flower dress, and with it the bleach white top of a human skull.

When the police arrived the old man sat on pile of garbage, crying. The young man stood over him with the bat. There in the ground was the body of a little girl, dead ten years, and her blue flower dress tattered and torn.