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Don’t Go Chasin’ Goth Girls

A story about a hauntingly bad date

By Jose SanchezPublished about a year ago 5 min read
Don’t Go Chasin’ Goth Girls
Photo by Al Soot on Unsplash

I'm a sucker for a goth girl in a plaid skirt. So much so, in fact, that it comes as no surprise that I ended up here, in this weird limbo or here as the poltergeist of a haunted playground that only shows up at a certain time. These things may sound all very vague… but that's why they call it an exposition, right?

In my lives, past and after, I’ve always been a story teller. It's probably the one thing I've held onto other than memories. I guess you want my rambling to be over, huh? Well ya boy… er… geist? Me. I was at work minding my own business when a gorgeous young lady walked in in our crusty, not even mildly attractive uniforms. I was immediately mezmorized. Granted that wasn't anything different from my norm, I was known to be girl crazy. However, this time I decided to pursue. This gal and I hit it off from the jump. She liked the same music, she liked pro wrestling, she had 3 dogs with names that fit them because of the kind of dog they were. I invited her out with some of the crew from work and she showed up in this cute, modest skirt with a Disturbed t-shirt on. I barely managed not to melt. That night she got a little too drunk and I drove her home. She invited me in but something told me a better move would be to go home and sleep.

The next day I woke up to a text message with one of those colon parentheses smiley faces. I knew I had opened my door to something more between us. We talked more frequently at work. After a couple of days we were planning our lunches together. One day after a break of her laughing at my stupid anecdotes she goes “Hey… wanna go on a date with me?” I of course was shocked and let out an “Uhh… like actually?” Before I basically shouted “Well yea of course!” Naturally this is where stuff starts to veer off course. Foreshadowing I think it’s called.

Our date was great. I wore my Iron Maiden t-shirt and she went with a Black Sabbath t-shirt. We went to get fish and chips at a little truck and we ate in the parking lot of the local grocery store. After lunch she says “Hey…” and my heart sank. This is where she says she's taken or she's gay or something i dont wanna hear. “… have you heard of Richardson’s playground?”

“Well no. I haven’t been in Kansas for long. Is it nice?”

“Even better. It's HAUNTED.”

Now of course this jostled me a bit but I thought I’d play along.

“Haunted huh? What kind of haunted?”

“Well for starters,” her eyes got more and more bright as she talked about it. I was lost the whole time. “It only appears during certain hours of the day. There's a four hour window where the park is actually there. The other 20 the playground returns to hell from whence it came.”

“Holy shit. That's crazy!”

“Yea… we should go sometime.”

“You want me to go with you… to a playground you JUST told me is haunted?”

“I mean unless you’re a scared little boy. Here I thought I was on a date with a man.”

“I’m definitely not scared. I was making sure that's what you wanted. When are you trying to go?”

“You off tomorrow?”

“No but I got a late shift. Like 4pm late.”

“Let’s go tonight.”

We drove for a solid hour and a half. I tried to memorize every twist and turn so I could prove her wrong the next day by coming back.”

When we finally got there I was immediately drawn to the swing set. Nostalgia. My dad and I used to go on the swings. He’d tell me stories while he pushed me. Stories of heroes and their feats. Next thing I knew we were swingin. Sharing stories of where we grew up and why we like the bands we do.

Suddenly it grew quiet. Ominously quiet. I had to sit in this sort of… hazy silence for what felt like an hour. It must’ve actually been five minutes before she broke the silence.

“Wow. Look at that. It's been almost an hour.”

“Yea. Crazy how time flies right? When you’re having a good time with a good friend.”

“Yea. Crazy is right. Hey… just so you know… I wish things could be different.”

“Wait… what does that even mean?”

“I lied to you.”

“OH I KNEW YOU COULDN’T ACTUALLY BE ATTRACTED TO ME!” I interrupted. “You’re a lesbian aren’t you?”

She laughed and I mean LAUGHED. Her laugh went from cute to long to a full on cackle.

“No you fucking moron. I’m not attracted to girls. I’m not attracted to guys either. Technically I’m no longer human.”

“Ok. Now I’m super confused.”

“See… I made a deal… I don’t want to get into the specifica but just so you know… I lied. It isn’t a four hour span. It’s a 30 minute window. I sold your soul in exchange for my freedom.”

“Sold my soul?”

“Yea. The collector will come within the hour. I’ll be gone by them. You’re bound to this playground until then. Meanwhile I can walk freely.”

“Yea. Sure. Good one Ariel. Let’s go before the “collector,” shows up,”

I tried to step off the gravel. I couldn’t. I looked at the ground which was now gone. I was standing on a dark, seemingly ghastly fog.

“What the hell is going on?”

I’ll never forget the last thing she said to me. It burned into my brain. It's actually why I try to warn others about this playground through shaking stuff up when they arrive.

“Hell… is right.”


About the Creator

Jose Sanchez

Howdy! I’ve been writing for about 9 years now. Everything from plays to graphic novels to short stories to haiku’s about hating retail. Thanks for the support! Feel free to follow me on social media. Enjoy

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