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Description
The playground sat at the edge of town, all quiet and calm. No one went there anymore. Not since the little girl from Penny Lane was found dead under the slide, anyway. The equipment was covered in rust from the neglect as the owners gave up with it after people stopped coming. The only sound that could be heard were the swings going back and forth while they were pushed by the wind, emitting a shrill creaking noise. The paint had been worn away in most parts, but you can still see the dull blue the swing set had once been. The red seesaw, which stood in the corner of the playground, had been knocked on it's side one thunder storm back in May and no one had bothered to right it. The slide, blue to match the swings, had been cleared of all the blood ages ago. However, everyone, no matter how foreign they were to the town, could still swear that blood was still splattered there as if the disinfecting hadn't mattered. It seemed like the incident had been imbedded into the very foundations of that playground and nothing would shake it free.

Everyday at dusk, a small boy would walk into the playground and sit on the swing. After a few minutes he would take out his pocket knife and examine it. Sometimes a golden retriever would come crawling through the bushes, a corpse in tow. The boy would then smile euphorically, open his knife, and let the feast begin.

Description
The playground sat at the edge of town, all quiet and calm. No one went there anymore. Not since the little girl from Penny Lane was found dead under the slide, anyway. The equipment was covered in rust from the neglect as the owners gave up with it after people stopped coming. The only sound that could be heard were the swings going back and forth while they were pushed by the wind, emitting a shrill creaking noise. The paint had been worn away in most parts, but you can still see the dull blue the swing set had once been. The red seesaw, which stood in the corner of the playground, had been knocked on it's side one thunder storm back in May and no one had bothered to right it. The slide, blue to match the swings, had been cleared of all the blood ages ago. However, everyone, no matter how foreign they were to the town, could still swear that blood was still splattered there as if the disinfecting hadn't mattered. It seemed like the incident had been imbedded into the very foundations of that playground and nothing would shake it free.

Everyday at dusk, a small boy would walk into the playground and sit on the swing. After a few minutes he would take out his pocket knife and examine it. Sometimes a golden retriever would come crawling through the bushes, a corpse in tow. The boy would then smile euphorically, open his knife, and let the feast begin.