Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-25561579-20141022173406

Basically I've been working on this for a couple days and I need a little feedback. This story is based on an actual location in my area and I thought it'd be pretty interesting.

________________________________________________________________________________ My mind felt like static. It was dead and empty from all the noise and commotion throughout the school day. The constant buzzing sound of Bellevue, my hometown, was enough to make someone go insane, and to add to all of that, the town was falling apart.

Businesses were leaving, old downtown buildings decaying, and the school system was the worst in the area. It wasn’t an extremely large town, but maybe five or six square miles.

A few days prior I was reminded of the old Whirlpool Park. Not because of the water formation but the appliance company. Fifty years ago they used to pour their harmful sludge and let it stay there. Kids continued to play, however, and now there are many children in this region with cancer. That’s besides the point though.

There are legends, deep and dark found within people. Stories untold such as one of the Whirlpool Park. First thing was first, it was run-down now. The weeds and grass had taken back what was once it’s own, and the brownish-black decaying of the equipment was eerie in itself.

I thought it’d be a good idea to visit the fenced off area to see what it was all about. I wasn’t worried about toxins, I was more worried about the stories I had heard.

The date was April, 15th, a Thursday, thankfully near the end of the school year, where my attentiveness and care for a good nights sleep was beyond gone (although that was gone only a couple months into the year). The conditions were perfect. A clear sky, decent weather, and a way to get to the Park, which was slightly less than thirteen miles according to Google Maps.

Preparation was fairly easy, but mentally I wasn’t sure if I was ready to see anything completely out of the ordinary. I reassured myself on multiple occasions throughout a period of at least thirty minutes, that all the talk was just local lore and legends. I stepped out of my room and peered down the hallway to see if I could catch the reflection of the television on our family picture above the large couch. Luckily, there was no light coming from in there and I tip-toed down the creaky hallway.

I made it to the front door which was directly out of the living room. I cracked it open and moved it very slowly until enough space was available to cram my body through it. I succeeded and immediately took my phone out to text my friend Jake, who was giving me a ride and he was going to record the experience. It was like my own, little, personal ghost hunting show, minus the fact that it wasn’t ghosts or spirits I was looking for.

He pulled up shortly later and threw my backpack in his back seat. I got in the car, greeted Jake, and we took off for Route 20.

The Park was directly off the main highway through our tiny town. For the twenty minutes we sat driving, we were completely silent. I thought I was ready. I felt ready. The closer we got. however, the less ready I became. The butterflies soon took over my guts and the mental picture of whatever was waiting for me took over. When we were within 500 yards of the dilapidated park the feeling of dread took over.

I knew that it was far too late to turn around, but I knew deep inside I didn’t want to do it. We turn on the small Shaw Road, and drove just 50 yards. My heart started beating faster and faster, my mouth became dry, and the butterflies made their way up to my throat. We stepped out of the car and I threw up my dinner. Heaving everything out of my body. Jake opened his trunk and luckily he was prepared for thirst and hunger. He had a case of water and a box of granola bars. I grabbed a water, opened it, and sprayed the water into my mouth. I swished it around and spit out the waste.

Jake pulled out his camcorder and set it up. While he was doing that process I walked around the fence and looked for a way in. Pole after pole and there was no bend, crack, or opening in the fence. I had two choices, climb it or go into the woods a couple hundred feet down the road. To save the equipment we walked to the woods. When we finally made it to the woods (which wasn’t long, maybe 5 minutes at the most) we got out our flashlights. The light brightened the new life growing inside the dense forest. Not far up ahead the fence ended, which gave us the perfect entrance.

We took our time to get to it, because we were in no rush, knowing that we had plenty of time. We had the next day if needed and kept a tent in to Jake’s sedan. Finally we were inside the Park. The smell was putrid. It was a mixture of mold, mildew and decaying wood. For the first five minutes my senses were in complete shock due to the smell. My nose adapted and we got a move on. There wasn’t a whole lot of area to search, but I wanted to disprove the lore of the land.

My flashlight shone into a puddle of water on the overrun blacktop of the dead basketball court. We looked around and the structure of a swingset sat right next to a rusted merry-go-round. Up ahead, however, something caught my attention. It was a pile of appliances, in which I supposed was debris from the Whirlpool plant only ten minutes from here.

A couple questions crossed my mind; Why did they dump this here? What exactly is in this shit?

I was thoroughly intrigued to go and rummage through the junk. Jake was still setting up his camera so we sat while he finished up. We sat in complete silence. No words, and complete darkness.

Jake nodded at me and we both rose to our feet. I rubbed my now heavy eyes and fluttered them for a second to wake them up. Jake threw up his hand and started to record. First thing was first, we had to check out the playground equipment. I steadily walked over to the dinged up swingset skeleton and ran my hands across the surface. I remained quiet. I turned to Jake and asked him what to do.

This kind of stuff was Jake’s forte. He loved the ghost hunting shows. He loved looking for cryptids. Just outright scary stuff. That was the main reason we were even friends. It wasn’t so much the fact that we could talk about sports, or home life, but when he got talking on the cryptozoology I was dragged in. It wasn’t bad though, just when he talked about other subjects I tended to zone out of real life and go to my own personal world.

Jake turned in a couple circles and pointed in a direction with his flashlight. It was towards a grassy field. I nodded and he led the way. While I followed behind him I looked around. I got the uneasy feeling of being watched. I turned in a circle a couple time and reassured myself it was in my head, nothing was here.

Jake stopped and so did I. We weren’t exactly sure what we were looking for, we just knew it was not spiritual and it wasn’t completely defined. We knew that this creature, animal, whatever you please to call it, was black, fur or no fur, it wasn’t quite sure. No height known and there was definitely not a definite picture of this thing.

We stood around for thirty minutes before we decided upon a new idea. The thought was to go get the tent and camp out for the night. We trekked back to the car, unloaded the tent and headed back for the woods. It felt shorter this time. Maybe it was because we knew where we were going, or just I remember less of the experience due to my overactive mind creating monsters among my vision. I seen shadows. They peeked out from behind bushes and stood directly in my vision. I once again wiped my eyes. I jumped up and down a couple time to get my blood flowing again. 