It was a cold rainy day. No sunlight fought its way through the thick layers of gloom and mist that hung low over the park. As the boy dragged his heels along the ruins of a path, he shuddered. He wrestled with an old gate, rusted shut until it suddenly flew open with the wind. Remnants of bright red paint that once covered the gate flaked into a puddle beneath him.It was cold. He should have brought a coat.
He could remember it all so vividly. The squeaking of the wheel, the tipping of the compartment, the gasps of curious onlookers neither helping nor moving, the Ferris wheel grinding to a halt, too little too late. The deafening thud as the girl hit the floor. The screams.
The boy had taken a few more steps forwards, edging his way towards an old swing ride. The elements had not been kind to the swings, with only the metal stairs remaining intact and the swings themselves clinging onto the small bit of colourful paint they had left. The boy had found refuge on one of these swings, and holding onto the rusted metal chain, pushed himself back and forewords with his feet.
It was only an accident. A missing cog, or a screw out of place, that was all it took. It didn't seem to effect business too badly, with crowds pointing at the dent in the concrete and laughing and bus loads of people queuing to go on the 'death ride'. No one said they were scared, but you could see it in their eyes. The fear was quickly overcome by adrenaline however, and a buzz of excitement filled the park.
The buzz died down eventually, with the park becoming more desolate, until the bank took it over a year or so later. There were some rumours that the girl was haunting the park, a little 8 year old pushing herself on the swing ride and eating left over candy floss, so it eventually became a barren wasteland, just a place for a local chav to have a beer or a homeless person to seek refuge.
The boy kicked an old beer can as he made his was over to the Ferris wheel. He watched as the flimsy compartments swung in the wind before bending down. He had brought with him a small plaque and a handful of flowers, to replace the dried up bouquet that was once beautiful. He tore up the old bunch, and placed down the new daisies long with the plaque.
To Daisy, beloved sister 2008-2016
