Oliver loved Saturdays. No school, no homework, just a whole day to play. And today was even better. The town had rebuilt the old playground that had been closed for years. New swings, slides, monkey bars, it was every kid’s dream come true.
He and his best friend, Mia, raced down the street, their trainers slapping the pavement.
“Bet I reach the swings first!” Mia called.
“Not if I beat you!” Oliver grinned, pumping his legs faster.
The playground appeared at the end of the lane, gleaming under the sun. Swings creaked gently in the breeze, the slide gleamed with fresh paint, and the merry-go-round sparkled like new.
But something felt… off.
Oliver paused at the gate. The air smelled faintly of rust and damp wood. The trees surrounding the playground seemed to lean inward, casting long shadows even though it wasn’t late.
Mia didn’t notice. She darted to the swings. “Come on, slowpoke!”
Oliver shook off the chill creeping up his spine. “Yeah, yeah.”
He ran to join her, not seeing the faded ‘CLOSED’ sign half-buried in the grass.
And he definitely didn’t notice the empty shoes tucked beneath the slide.
Games Without Players
The playground buzzed with laughter. Kids ran between swings, climbed the jungle gym, and spun on the merry-go-round. Oliver and Mia raced each other down the slide, giggling.
“This place is awesome!” Mia grinned.
Oliver nodded, though something still tugged at the back of his mind. His eyes drifted to the far corner, where an old roundabout sat. It wasn’t part of the new equipment, its paint peeled, and metal rusted.
And it was spinning.
No one was on it. No breeze strong enough to move it.
Mia noticed his stare. “Weird,” she muttered.
A boy named Ethan approached. “Dare you to ride it,” he challenged.
“Bet you won’t,” another kid chimed in.
Oliver’s pride flared. “Watch me.”
He stepped onto the roundabout. It creaked under his weight. At first, nothing happened. He gave it a push with his foot. It spun lazily.
Then, it sped up on its own.
“Whoa!” Oliver gripped the bars, heart pounding. The wind whipped his hair as the world blurred.
“Jump off!” Mia shouted.
He tried, but his hands wouldn’t let go. His fingers seemed glued to the metal.
Then the spinning stopped. Gasping, Oliver stumbled off. The other kids laughed nervously.
Except Ethan. He stared at the roundabout, face pale.
“What’s wrong?” Oliver asked.
Ethan pointed. “There were four of us before. Now... only three.”
Oliver turned. He was right. One kid was missing. No one saw him leave.
The First Vanishing
Rumours spread fast. By Monday, everyone at school was talking about it.
“Ben just... disappeared?” Mia whispered during lunch.
Oliver nodded, poking at his sandwich. “No one knows how.”
“Maybe he went home?”
“No. His mum’s been looking everywhere.”
Their friend Liam joined them. “My cousin said the playground’s cursed. Kids used to vanish there before it closed.”
Oliver’s stomach twisted. “You’re making that up.”
“Swear I’m not.” Liam lowered his voice. “Said it starts with the rides moving by themselves.”
Like the roundabout. Oliver’s pulse quickened in horror.
That afternoon, they went back. The playground was quieter. There was no laughter, just the occasional creak of swings.
Ethan sat on the steps, head in his hands.
“You okay?” Mia asked.
“It took Ben,” Ethan whispered. “And I saw it last night.”
“Saw what?” Oliver asked.
“A shadow... tall. Watching from the trees.”
Oliver’s gaze darted to the woods. Leaves rustled. Shadows stretched long and dark. The merry-go-round creaked, turning slowly.
Empty swings swayed. A slide, unused, groaned.
Oliver’s throat went dry. “We should go.”
But Ethan stood, eyes glassy. “It’s calling again.”
Before they could stop him, he stepped onto the roundabout.
It spun. Faster. Faster.
“Ethan!” Mia screamed. Then, he was gone. Vanished. Only his shoes remained.
Into the Playground’s Grip
Oliver’s dreams twisted that night. He stood on the playground alone. Swings creaked overhead, empty chains swaying. The slide oozed dark liquid, pooling at his feet.
And the roundabout? Spinning. Faster. Blurred faces appeared in its motion, Ben, Ethan,and others he didn’t recognise.
They mouthed something.
“Come play.”
He jolted awake, drenched in sweat.
Mia texted: "Meet me at the playground. We need answers."
Bad idea. Terrible. But he went anyway.
Under overcast skies, the playground looked worse. Rust spread like a disease, paint flaking away.
Mia waited, holding a notebook. “Found old news articles,” she said. “Kids went missing here years ago. Every time... the rides moved on their own first.”
Oliver glanced at the roundabout. It spun lazily.
“How do we stop it?” he asked.
“I don’t know.”
A gust of wind sent leaves scattering. Swings creaked.
Then, laughter echoed.
Figures appeared, children, translucent, faces blurred.
One stepped closer, it was Ethan.
“Why did you leave me?” he whispered.
Oliver’s knees wobbled. “We didn’t—”
“Stay,” Ethan pleaded. “Play forever.”
The ground beneath the roundabout split open, darkness yawning wide.
Oliver grabbed Mia’s hand. “Run!”
But the playground shifted, slides twisting like snakes, monkey bars bending.
There was no exit. They were trapped.
The Final Game
Breath ragged, Oliver scanned the playground. “It wants us to play.”
“What if we do... and it lets us go?” Mia suggested.
“Or traps us like them.”
No time to think. The roundabout spun faster. Chains from swings lashed out, barely missing them.
Oliver steeled himself. “I’ll distract it. You find a way out.”
“No!” Mia grabbed his arm.
“We don’t have a choice!”
Heart pounding, he leapt onto the roundabout. Wind howled. Faces blurred by, Ben, Ethan, and dozens of others.
“Why us?” he shouted.
A voice, deep, everywhere, answered:
“Children come to play... they stay.”
Oliver’s vision blurred. His body felt pulled, bones stretching, mind fogging.
“Oliver!” Mia’s voice cut through.
She threw a rock at the roundabout’s centre.
The spinning slowed.
Oliver jumped off, collapsing to the ground. Light flared, bright, blinding.
They opened their eyes.
The playground stood empty. No spinning rides. No ghostly children.
And a single swing, gently swaying.
Days passed. Authorities found nothing. No proof. But the playground closed again, fenced off.
Oliver and Mia sat on the curb, watching workers seal it up.
“Think it’s really over?” Mia asked.
Oliver shrugged. “Hope so.”
A breeze stirred. Behind the fence, the roundabout gave a final, lazy spin.
Mia shivered. “Let’s go.”
They walked away.
Neither saw the shadow standing tall, by the swings.
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