The Playground That Wasn't There

Lucas never knew why he preferred walking at night. Maybe it was the crisp air, the quiet streets, or the rarity of running into others. Often consumed by anxiety, his therapist suggested daily walks to clear his head and burn energy. Going at night usually helped him sleep if nothing else.

Tonight, the air sat heavy and chilled; the sidewalk was still damp from the storm that had finally broken the drought. Several peaceful minutes into his stroll, Lucas arrived at the edge of his favourite little forest. Nestled in the middle of his residential area, he welcomed the reprieve from the constant slew of lights and concrete.

He breathed deeply as he stepped past the threshold, enjoying the sweet aroma of birch bark and the tang of cedar. It wasn’t long, however, before he noticed the unusual absence of rustling nocturnal creatures and the chirping of crickets. This made the usually soft crunch of his boots on the dirt feel harsh. The stillness pressed in as if the trees were holding their breath. He brushed it off. Perhaps the night was colder than they were used to.

But when the clearing appeared, Lucas froze. He tilted his head and squinted as he mentally retraced his steps. He’d walked these paths dozens of times; he knew them by heart. This clearing shouldn’t be here.

Bathed in faint moonlight and rolling fog, a small playground stood in the centre like a forgotten monument. Rust coated the swings' chains; the vintage merry-go-round teetered slightly on its axis. A tall slide jutted out of the darkness, its sleek, silver surface almost glowing. It was the type of slide that parents finally got banned for getting too hot and burning their kids. The entire scene was like stepping into a time capsule.

Lucas glanced behind him, half expecting to see someone, anyone, who might explain this strange, misplaced structure. But the path had vanished, swallowed by the encroaching fog. The trees seemed to loom closer now, their branches knotting into shadowed walls.

He turned back to the playground. One swing moved back and forth, its chains creaking softly in the stillness. A chill ran up his spine as he hurried toward the edge of the clearing, where he knew there to be another path. Watching the thick fog dissipate at his feet with every step, he pushed through a canopy of branches and let out the breath he hadn’t even realized he held as he emerged onto a familiar path. Breaking into a gentle run, he navigated the rough terrain, dodging low branches and protruding roots.

Just when he thought he’d spent a little too long on the trail, he saw a clearing ahead. Slowing back down to a walk, he ducked under more low-hanging branches. Lifting his head, he stopped dead as his chest tightened in horror. Before him lay the same playground, its tilted merry-go-round, ancient slide, and creaking swing in the same position.

“No!” Lucas shouted into the thick, dark night. “What is this?” he pleaded desperately into the dark void.

“To leave, you have to play,” adrenaline shot through his body as a ghostly voice permeated the air. He spun around and saw nothing but saw a flash of red dart between the trees. He threw his head sideways as he heard the rustle of footsteps to his left. His gaze reached the treeline just in time to catch another flash of colour behind the branches.

“Who’s there?!” he demanded as he threw his head from side to side.

All he got in response was the eerie echo of children’s laughter. Slowly, more blurry colours appeared at the treeline. They came together to form several young, translucent spectres. The one in the middle appeared older and more solid. He stepped forward, a smirk on his face and a whistle in hand.

“To leave, you have to play,” he repeated, bringing the whistle to his lips and blowing. He reached his ghostly hand down to touch the shoulder of the girl next to him. “You’re it,” he said to her, not breaking eye contact with Lucas. Immediately, the kids took off in a frenzy of flailing arms, skidding shoes, and playful screams.

The chosen girl began running and leaping toward her playmates, missing a few by only a hair. With wide eyes and a hand over his mouth, Lucas watched as the girl gave up on the others and faced him instead. She looked him up and down once, and his hands trembled as she ran at him. He stared at the ringleader, every instinct screaming at him to run, but his legs refused to move. She approached quickly but stopped before him. Glaring, she looked back at the ringleader, who spoke directly to Lucas.

“To leave, you have to play!” The way his voice escalated to a violent growl broke Lucas out of his trance. He took off at a run, the little girl’s feet smacking the ground hard behind him.

His breath came in shallow gasps as he darted between trees, chest heaving and sweat pouring down his face. The girl’s laughter echoed behind him, impossibly close no matter how fast he ran. The trees tightened their grasp, branches clawing at his arms like skeletal fingers. In the corner of his eye, the playground’s rusted slide glinted in the moonlight, inviting him to remember a more innocent time.

“Play the game, Lucas,” the ringleader’s voice called, disembodied and reverberating in his skull. “Or stay with us forever.”

Legs shaking, Lucas collapsed and crawled behind a tree, eyes closed as he tried to catch his breath.

“If you cheat, you lose.” A child’s voice whispered in his ear. Lucas opened his eyes to see the compact figure of a boy crouched beside him. He wore a tattered yellow raincoat and a red hat that sagged with water. “If you lose, you’re stuck.” He whispered again before fading into the distance.

The girl's laughter grew louder as Lucas hopped back to his feet and ran again. With his energy fading, he had no choice but to succumb to her relentless pursuit. He groaned as she dropped from an overhead branch and tagged him, her fingers searing his chest with a red-hot handprint.

He realized with a feeling of grim acceptance that he would never outrun these children; the confines of a human body and fatigued muscles did not tether them.

He contemplated his inevitable doom as he lay on the ground, breathing hard and shallow. He looked around and recoiled. The trees’ twisted branches were so close to the ground. That’s when he noticed: the kids kept running, even though he had given up. They laughed and yelled in jest, but they did so in a repeating pattern. The kid in the red shirt darted between the same five trees. The raincoat-clad kid slid down the slide, dove into a hidey-house, and rolled out to climb the rock wall that brought him back to the mouth of the slide.

Feigning defeat, Lucas slowly got up, head hanging. He stumbled toward the forest's edge as if to attempt another escape. He slowly adjusted his path. He counted down the red kid’s tree pattern. Two more until he was in front of Lucas. The kid paused. He ran to the next one, followed by a pause.

This is it, “Gotcha!” Lucas declared as he lurched forward and smacked the red-shirt kid on his leg mid-dart.

Immediately, the ringleader blew his whistle. The children came to a halt, their voices silent. He approached Lucas and took the screaming, red-shirted kid by the arm. “Fair’s fair,” he nodded and gestured toward the familiar path back to town. Lucas scrambled to his feet and ran for the exit. He looked over his shoulder and watched as the ringleader shoved the red-shirt kid to his knees and snapped his fingers. The kid burst into flames as his screams faded into the fog.

Gasping, Lucas ran straight ahead and didn’t stop until he reached the sidewalk. Once free, he collapsed and rolled onto his back, squinting into the sky as the sun rose behind the trees.

“Hey buddy, you alright?”

The voice startled him. He looked up to see a man standing several feet away, wearing a hoodie and running shoes. The low light shadowed his expression.

Lucas forced a shaky laugh, waving a hand dismissively. “Yeah, yeah. Just... had a crazy morning run.”

The man nodded but didn’t move. Instead, he crouched down, studying Lucas closely.

“You look like you’ve been through it,” the man said, voice calm but edged with something strange. “Big game, huh?”

Lucas blinked, his stomach twisting. “What?”

The man tilted his head and furrowed his brow. “The game. Looks like you’ve been tagged.”

Icy dread washed over Lucas; like a lightning bolt shooting through his body, hands going clammy. His hand shot up to his chest, where his fingers brushed the faint heat of the handprint burned into his skin.

“How do you—”

The man cut him off with a low chuckle and a dismissive wave. “You’ll get used to it.”

Lucas tried to scramble back, but his body wouldn’t obey. He looked around wildly and finally noticed the street wasn’t right. The trees along the roadside seemed impossibly tall, their branches curling like claws. The air felt heavy, humming with unseen energy.

“Where am I?” Lucas whispered.

The man stood, brushing his hands off . “You’re exactly where you need to be. But if you’re going to survive, you’d better move.”

He stepped aside, gesturing toward the woods. The fog was already creeping out, curling around his legs like icy fingers, muffling every sound except his pounding heart.

“No,” Lucas said, shaking his head. “I won. I got out!”

“You did indeed,” the stranger said, lips curling into an unearthly smile. “Fair’s fair, but there are many games to play.”