[This is a (very) short horror story I wrote some years ago. I'm posting it now for International Short Story Day.]
Imagine the city. And now a small park: a block in area, green space, trees on the perimeter, hockey rink, playground. Monkey bars, swings, slide. Carousel. Got it? Good. Now listen. There was a grad student. Owen Astor. He was auditing an evening class. When he walked home, it was natural for him to use Gyro Park as a shortcut. But he walked home at night, and the neighbourhood was a bit sketchy, and he wasn’t a big guy. So he always gave the park a quick scan before actually setting foot in it. Sensible. Smart.
Usually there was no problem. Plenty of events at the rink, with people around. But then October came, and everything died. (more…)