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Everyone knows about the dumbass ghost story at Jones Park, Indiana. That some girl died at her birthday party. I never bought it, probably just a publicity stunt, like the ones that Billschannel does. I lived pretty close to that place, and I went to try it out. Just for fun. All by myself.

Driving there I felt this strange...sensation. A feeling of dread, and pleasure. Like it was where I'm meant to be. I shook it off. Pulling in, the sights unsettled me. Tall, lush trees shredded the decaying wood fence, not being used since whatever happened that day. It was midnight, 1:23 to be exact. I snuck through the gate, whatever was left of it. The decimated hinges didn't hold anything, and the remains of the doors were under my feet.

I slowly walked in, having a horrible feeling that I was being watched by someone-or something. The forest, once a tame park, was gloomy with tall trees and swamps. A wheel of a car, the seemingly only remnant of civilization, was half-buried in the soil. Not exactly giving me a feeling of hope, a little poster was hung on the one of the labyrinth of trees, shredded and soaked. I stepped ahead to get a closer look. It was yellowed from all its years in the sun, and barely even touchable from all its years in the rain. It read, quite clearly, "BIRTHDAY PARTY AT JONES PARK!! JUNE 7, 1998! Come on down to our daughter Dorothy's birthday party!" Well, why would her family put an ad for a random party to the most public place in the state at the time? I wrote down the date, June 7, 1998. Seemed pretty important. It's been-- wait a second, EXACTLY 20 years since that happened! How?!

I trudged in a little further, until I thought I saw something in the corner of my eye. I turned my head as fast as I could, and all I could make out before it disappeared was the shape of a little girl with a cone hat on. It vanished the second I saw it. Knowing I wasn't alone was a bit nerve-wracking, but what if I was hallucinating? I knew this wouldn't turn into some crazy B.S., but still. Just when I thought things couldn't get any stranger, a newspaper blew onto my feet. It was in surprisingly good condition. But half of it was stained out because of mud. I could barely make out anything, but I could see "GIRL, 7, KILLED IN FREAK ACCIDENT AT BIRTHDA-" Rest was smudged out. A freak accident?

I was just about to call it quits and head back to my car when I heard the sounds of the Happy Birthday song. Stopping in my tracks, I went closer and closer to the source of the sounds. It was 2:48 so I wondered who could be singing it at this hour. I stopped when I saw a crowd, seemingly celebrating a small birthday. Men, women, children, and babies were standing all around each other. They had a strange, unearthly color to their skin. I walked a little closer, and if I was asked to leave, I would. But even as I got closer and closer, they kept socializing and partying.

Then I saw her. A little girl about 6 or 7, with dreadful, black tears, drooling from where her eyes should have been. Her eyes were black voids. She had dingy, soggy, blackened hair. She was wearing a torn party dress, once a lively yellow, now a rotted beige. She had enormous, sickening bloody gashes all over her body. The most disturbing thing about her, was part of her cracked, jawbone was exposed, something oozing out of it. She was dancing around like nothing had happened to her, despite the blatantly obvious. All of a sudden, she saw me. Her cold, eyeless gaze struck horror into my heart. She walked slowly over to me, her filthy bare feet crunching the leaves below her, and she said, "You came to celebrate my birthday."

I couldn't speak, I couldn't think. She just grabbed me by my hand, ants and those bugs with claws on their butts swarming out of a gash on her arm. I tried to let go, I tried to resist, but it just wouldn't work. When we got to where she wanted to go, a blinding light filled the area around me. When my eyes adjusted, it was a more lively scene, butterflies, green grass, and the little girl looked, well, human. "My name is Dorothy." she whispered. "What's yours?" I just blurted it out, "Charlie." I realized with a start, this was the birthday girl. Presents were on the table, Barbies, Beanie Babies, (this was the 90s after all) and a DVD of Toy Story. But the item that caught my attention the most, was a large, brightly colored machine. It was essentially a giant rectangle, as big as a small car. Its most prominent feature was its large, sharp-as-knives teeth. When Dorothy saw me staring at it, the sun and happiness instantly faded, and it was 3:15 again. She said "This is my favorite part!" I was confused, but then the machine's mouth opened, and its teeth started crashing into each other, crunching all the way. I was looking inside it, and I was caught off guard by the people there. They grabbed me, and started walking me over inside the machine. Finally, I realized this was the way Dorothy died on her birthday. These people weren't party-goers; they were lost souls! "H-have fu-un." Dorothy stammered, crying of laughter. The last thing I saw were blades, then black.

Everyone is always happy here. The cake is delicious, the games are always fun. Dorothy is a wonderful playmate. She'd said we will have fun forever and ever. And that's just what I'm going to do.



Written by Tokutron999
Content is available under CC BY-SA

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