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Guest The Phantom

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Guest The Phantom

As the roads fade from concrete, to cobblestone, to dirt, they wind into the forgotten edges of town.

Behind the old deserted buildings is a little park bordering the surrounding wilderness.  Long weeds, grass and vines thrive around the rusty  slide while moss grows on the climbing bars.  A lonely spring horse with peeling paint and a chipped head stands stiff from years with no passengers . Even the graffiti fades. Very few people alive today remember the playground as lively, and nobody ever comes to this park-except old Mr. Jenkins.

 He sits by himself on the swing and remembers his days as a boy. Here he met his dearest wife.

Together they had days of bliss and play. Years pass, so all good things must come to an end.

Since then Mr. Jenkins comes back to the swings to ponder, so he become the strange old man everyone avoids. The wind blows the creaky seat next to him back and forth; he imagines his late wife still with him by his side.


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