Work Text:
A chirpy beep & click of a camera shutter rang out like a siren through the still quiet air.
Katrien leaned back & admired the crystal clear image on her camera; she had captured a lonely merry-go-round horse, decrepit & marred with age. It spoke to her of the death of innocence, wasted potential & lonely misery.
Katrien walked away & surveyed the land around her once more, she saw carnival equipment in a similar state of decline surrounded by mountains of trash, making those rare intact pieces look like islands. Ancient, now deadened lights swung gloomily in the breeze, she weaved around the rows of heaped garbage hoping to find something that catches her eye. The whole place was filled with quiet dread, gloomy sights & sounds, which is why Katrien loved small towns like this.
Rather than dispose of the equipment from the old carnival, they decided to transform the grounds into a makeshift trash dump, before it too was shut down. Places like these spoke to her soul, old discarded things desperately vying for her attention from their resting places.
She stumbled upon an old fairy floss stand, its decor was old & its wood was rotting but the energy of it was palpable, pure joy twisted into gentle sadness. Investigating closer, she rubbed her hand against the sodden wood.
“Ow!”
She retracted her hand to examine the new point of pain to find a splinter in its place, she pulled it out, wincing at the sting while inwardly cursing her own stupidity. A pinprick of blood pooled at the entry point; a strange wind flew behind her.
She sucked on it & that queer wind travelled through her, nipping &pulling at her legs, urging her to move. She followed the strange wind as it rounded the side of the stand & was face to face with a disturbing plastic statuette. It was difficult to make out what it was, its features distorted by dirt, age & graffiti but it seemed to be holding something resembling fairy floss in its hand so she assumed it was some kind of advertisement for the place. She stepped back, deciding to take a picture of the obscured figure.
Another chirpy beep & click of the shutter & it was done.
When Katrien looked at the photo there was something off, a visual distortion in the shape of a girl. She was hunched over, resting her arm against the statuette, golden lights lit her body revealing a retro coloured uniform.
She sighed & stepped forward assuming the place where the girl would have been standing in the photo, she was keenly aware now of the bloody handprint marring the plastic statuette, despite being washed off, despite the age & dirt.
She shook her head & looked to see where the girl in her place was looking.
Katrien spotted the now faded top of a carousel & knew that was where she was supposed to go.
Navigating her way around the grounds she found herself in front of the carousel, it was pretty well preserved for what it was, Katrien could easily picture it merrily spinning to a jovial tune.
Wind whipped round her ankles & a voice seemed to whisper, ‘go.’
She obeyed & climbed onto the floor, she wandered around the statues that once contained the horse she photographed earlier in their collection. She walked until the wind told her to stop.
Right near the edge, she felt it was time, overseeing the sprawling mess of the whole carnival grounds turned dump she took her next photo.
One chirpy beep & click of the camera’s shutter later, she stared at the next photo.
Another distortion.
But this specter was different than the first, this girl had short hair & was likely her own age. Multicoloured lights showed a festive uniform. The girl was running, captured right as she had broken out into a sprint, dark red was running down that festive uniform. Behind her, a dark figure, calmly walking.
She swallowed thick & hard; this never got any easier.
Suddenly aware of every shuffling leaf, branch & plastic bag Katrien walked to the site the specter stood in her photo.
She peered across the plain, the shadow of the ferris wheel loomed over her, she assumed that was her next location. Katrien walked toward the lumbering steel beast, creaking with age as impatient, fervent wind urged her forward. Soon enough she stood directly in front of it, that odd wind picked up & pushed her around the structure.
She was pushed until she stood behind it, on the edge of the grounds surrounded by woodlands on each side. Hands grasping the camera once more she raised it to her eyes & took a photo.
A chirpy beep & the distinctive click of the camera rang out.
She felt cold dread submerge her entire body as she gazed upon the photo, on her camera was the image of a girl a few years younger than she, in bright striped clothing. The spectre was yet again different than the last, she lay on the ground crimson covering her face that was distorted in agony. Kneeled beside her was the dark figure of a man, he appeared to be wearing some kind of uniform, not unlike the second specter; he brandished a dripping knife in his right hand.
She looked at where the girl lay, observing her hand splayed on the ground as if pointing to something.
Standing where she lay, she looked to the left & was faced with the encroaching woodlands.
The winds whispered the location of a gnarled oak tree, minding her step she ventured out into the woods, faintly hoping she wouldn’t run into a spider's web.
Some few minutes into her impromptu nature walk she faced a clearing in which the gnarled Oak stood. Katrien approached its trunk at the behest of the insistent wind, rounding the trunk the wind whispered of a hole in the trunk.
Feeling butterflies flit threateningly in her stomach she timidly stripped her throat of her scarf, wrapping it around her fingers, she plunged her hand in.
Grasping the corners of a box Katrien struggled against the tree, to pull out the dark secret lying in its heart. She nearly fell onto her backside when she had finally wrenched it free, careful to keep the scarf wrapped around her fingers she cautiously lifted its lid, paying mind not to break it.
Peering inside she spotted a rusted blade, pliers, scissors & various other instruments she did not know the name of. A wretched smell leaked out of the box as she spotted small burlap pouches of god-knows-what.
The lid slammed shut & that strange wind caressed her face, almost comforting, before beginning to pull her around the tree again.
She followed the wind around the front of the tree again, the wind began to travel unnaturally downward, rushing toward & within the dirt. Katrien almost thought she’d barf right then & there.
‘Surely not, surely not’ her mind repeated as she limply grasped her camera.
She stepped back getting a fuller view of the tree & snapped a picture, simultaneously granting the wretched tree immortality.
A chirpy beep & the click of her shutter & she was faced with the inevitable.
Three distortions in a row, facing towards her, their figures now blackened to silhouettes.
Her mind was filled with the whisperings of the wind as she stepped forward & collapsed to her knees.
She absentmindedly started clawing & digging through the dirt with her bare hands, the box & scarf now lay forgotten beside her. She continued her dig until her fingers hit something solid.
Frenzied by the discovery she desperately clawed the dirt pushing it away from her discovery, a skull, small flecks of flesh clung to it still. She began digging horizontally from that skull & before long found the next & then dug horizontally from that skull.
She sat back on her knees & tiredly observed the bone-white, gory tableau before her. The smell of rot still permeated from them but was thankfully diminished with time, their once brightly coloured clothes were now faded, ripped & marred with dirt & age itself.
Hands shaking she grabbed her camera, wiping the dirt smeared on its lense & took a picture.
A chirpy beep most unfitting the scene before her & the comforting click of its shutter & her camera had borne her another image.
The image was horrific, she turned beside herself & threw up. Blood-soaked clothes, distorted faces, screaming agony, clinging to life, rested beside those who had already perished, parts of them forever missing, dirt clinging to the skin, pure agony emanated from the photograph of the shared grave.
She spent what felt like forever calming herself down, trying her best to slow the anxious thudding of her heart & ease the desperate intake of breath that was now painful. Hands shaking she pulled out her phone & called the local police.
Waiting, she simply sat there, it somehow felt even longer as time passes more slowly around the dead.
But those blue-red lights fell upon her soon enough, a comfort to her soul. A hand grasped her shoulders, easing her up.
During the whole process, Katrien was vaguely aware of questions being asked to her, her answers were vague & tired, just how she felt. She couldn’t help but watch as their bodies were finally taken out of that hellish ground, zipped into those black bags & wheeled into the ambulance; their families had already been contacted, and that felt good.
She had declined a ride back to her hotel & instead lingered near that oak once more.
Before she left she turned around & took one more photo.
A refreshingly chirpy beep & a tired click of a shutter & she held in her hands a new image.
The image was of three girls, dressed in festive retro, all close to her age. They stood in a row in front of the tree, smiling gentle & relieved smiles.
The wind whispered gratitude.
Katrien smiled then sighed, ‘yet another one.’
She didn’t even have to look to know that those photos would now be absent of any distortions.
This is simply how the dead worked, them & all the sad, discarded & lonely things; things like her.