It is midnight. You are in the streets with your friend Darren. You are going to the abandoned park for a bit of adventure.

When you reach the gate, it groans open unwillingly sending a chill down your spine. The play area is totally destroyed and wait! Where's Darren? He just vanished from your side! A sinister wind blew and the swings and roundabout start moving. A voice starts singing but you can not see anyone there. You see a shadow reaching toward you so you run. You slam the hut door shut and scream.

Come with me...

My hands shake as I light the blunt, exhaling shakily as the taste of pond water fills my lungs. Cigarettes don’t work to calm me anymore, and alcohol was too heavy to bring all this way.

“What the fuck was that?” I whisper to myself, pressing my forehead into the damp wood of the Wendy house. “Darren?” I ask, calling out softly into the darkness.

It’s futile. I know this. He probably pussied out, couldn’t hop the fence, is hiding somwhere to scare me. Cautiously, I peek over the low window.

The whole playground is covered in vines, white and green, black and bloody red. The world tilts, and I try not to blame it on the weed. The wind whistles over it all, blowing errant vines upwards, crawling — directly towards me.

I duck beneath the window immediately, just in time to hear a strangled cry carry on the gales.

“Charlotte…run…save yourself…” it’s Darren.