The strong odours of hairdye and cheap perfume lingered in the bathroom for days after Gladys had gone. I used to like choosing the makeup she would wear for the day, the shades and brands, the different brushes; but now I can’t walk down the cosmetics aisle without reliving that night.

Standing at the door watching my sister, I surveyed the whole room, taking in everything subconciously. The air of excitement and careless abandon. The tube of bright red lipstick standing open by the sink and the light reflecting on dangling earrings. The drops of moisture on the glass after Gladys had showered and the soapy warmth radiating from her skin. The quick flash of her phone camera snapping a photo in the mirror right before she left. The brush of her hand on my cheek as she went out the door.

Her purple hair.

I should have called Mum. I should have told her Gladys was leaving the house, leaving me alone, to go and meet up with her new boyfriend. I should have told her about the purple hairdye and the earrings. But I didn’t. I lay awake in bed that night after my big sister had gone, the quiet and the dark seeping to the back of my throat, suffocating me; my heart pounding because I didn’t want Mum to know. What if her work shift finished early and she came home and found the lipstick and Gladys was discovered? I rolled out of bed and went to return the little tube to its drawer quickly. I loved Gladys. I wanted to be on her good side even more than on Mum’s. So I was silent ... I didn’t tell on her. Maybe if I had called the police, it would have been alright. Maybe if I had gone next door and told Mrs Aster about Gladys, somebody would have found her in time. But I didn’t. I went back to bed and fell asleep.

*****

Someone found her sneakers down at the playground.

Funny that she’d bother getting all dressed up but would wear those old battered sneakers instead of the pretty heels Mum bought for her. That was just Gladys, I guess; so attentive to little details and blissfully ignorant of the important ones. These days I keep the shoes up on my bedroom shelf, like she’s coming back for them. Like she never really left.

A policeman tried to talk to me in the morning, speaking with a gentle voice and asking simple, childish questions as I sat in a stiff grey chair in his office with lowered eyes, pressing my knees together so tightly it hurt. I was still suffocating, as though the dark and silence had fixed itself in me and formed an immovable lump in my throat; I tried to tell him it was my fault, all my fault, that I knew I should have called Mum, should have persuaded Gladys to stay home, should have told someone ... but I couldn’t speak. I choked on my own words. Staring at the sneakers until my vision blurred, I tried to recall the fragrance of perfume in the bathroom and the touch of Gladys’ hand as she went out the door ... the expression on her face, the kind of eyeshadow she used, anything at all! The thoughts and images blended together in my head to form one word, filling my mind. It was in front of my eyes. It beat in a steady rhythm with my heart. It rang in my ears.

Purple.

It’s three in the morning

and frost spirals along the metal lattice of a forgotten playground,

melting where warm fingers grasp the chains of aging swings,

leaving perfect ovals of dew among an expanse of ice.

Her cheeks are pink from winter air

and shallow breaths hang milky in the moonlight

a moment before ebbing to oblivion.

The swings squeal as if in protest

and faded purple sneakers push away from the ground,

pressing her fragile body against the denim sky.

Moonlight girl,

sparrow heart,

if I could stitch you wings out of these words

I would.

Noah was too old for playgrounds. At sixteen, he should be driving to the skate park, going out on dates.

Instead, he was crouched in a purple tube slide, doodling on his sneakers and, occasionally, on the plastic sides.

Noah liked it here.

This playground was old. Not quite abandoned, but close. Almost no one found this side of Grace Park. The front half was always bustling, full of the newest playground equipment.

There was even a waterpark.

But in the back side, this part, the metal parts were crawling with rust. The plastic parts were tagged with vulgar graffiti. The ground, which had been paved over with asphalt, was cracked, faded, and bleeding through with weeds.

It was quiet. Dark.

And Noah had learned that quiet and darkness meant safety.

His house was bright and loud. The gleam of empty broken beer bottles, the loudness of his mother and father screaming at each other.

Sometimes, they screamed at him.

Noah didn't like the loud. Noah liked the quiet. The dark.

The safety of this abandoned playground.

Once upon a time, Noah met a drug dealer in his playground. The dealer was a woman with curly blonde hair and wide green eyes.

She was skinny. Very skinny.

Noah didn't like her very much, but he took one of the needles anyway.

And Noah realized that he didn't like drugs. They made the whole world loud and bright, all the things he hated.

And one day, the drug dealer with the green eyes and the curly hair was gone, and Noah was okay with that.

It was his playground. He might as well own it. He'd been coming here for six years, ever since he was ten. He'd watch the rust creep higher, farther, faster. He watched the asphalt crumble, he watched the graffiti grow.

He watched his haven get darker, and quieter, and he loved it.

Noah pressed his sneakers into the side of the purple slide.

They were once white, but years of grime and sharpie had made them almost tie-dyed, with shades of brown and black.

Thunk-thunk-thunk.

Noah froze, his sharpie hovering in midair over his sneakers.

Someone was on top of his slide.

Thunk-thunk-thunk.

Noah could hear a story in those thuds.

"Here we go," says the mystery boy. "Peace and quiet at last."

The thuds stopped, and Noah watched the shadow over top of him come to a stop.

"Well, not quiet. I guess I'm talking to myself. But here, no one cares who you talk to. It's nice here. Can't believe I just found this place."

Noah stayed very still, too petrified to move. His safe place was being invaded. Stolen. He could not allow this.

As the mystery boy kept talking, Noah listened to his voice. The mystery boy told all his struggles to the empty air. Every thought he had was voiced. So different from Noah. Silent Noah. Withdrawn Noah. Scared Noah. Sixteen-year-old Noah, who still hid in playgrounds like a toddler.

The mystery boy had a voice like dark chocolate. Rich, smooth, but bitter.

Noah didn't know what his voice sounded like. Noah didn't even remember the last time he spoke.

It was probably since the divorce. When Noah lost one dad, to be replaced by another. A meaner, crueler dad. He lost his good, safe, quiet, strong dad, in favor of a loud, harsh dad.

Noah didn't understand why his mom divorced his dad, trading him for this one.

Lost in his thoughts, his sneaker slipped.

Squeak.

For the first time, the stranger fell silent. Quiet.

"Fuck," the stranger says at last. "Fucking fuck. Of course you didn't check the slide, Jonathan, you stupid sonofabitch."

He began to crawl down the slide, and Noah was paralyzed.

He realized that he'd just listened to Jonathan's secrets. Jonathan had invaded his space, and Noah had invaded his mind.

He could not move, stuck fast with his fear, as Jonathan climbed down the slide.

"Who's there, you nosy sonofabitch?"

Noah did not respond.

"I'm fucking coming for you."

Noah still did not respond. He still did not move. He waited.

And then he saw Jonathan.

He had curly blonde hair. He had green eyes. Just like the drug dealer, except he was a little less skinny and had wider shoulders.

"Well, well, well. You spying on me?"

Noah still could not move.

"You got something to say?"

Noah finally shook his head.

To his surprise, Jonathan's face softened.

"I shoulda checked the slide before. That's on me. How much did you hear?"

Noah made the smart decision and shrugged.

"Well, my name's Jonathan. In case you didn't hear that. You?"

Noah stared, helplessly, at Jonathan. He was not going to speak. At this point, he wasn't even sure if he could.

Jonathan raised an eyebrow and Noah remembered the sharpie, dangling loosely in his hand.

NOAH, he scrawled on the side of the slide.

"Noah, huh? I have a cousin named Noah. He's a dick, though."

Noah managed to crack a grin.

"So, I guess you found this place before I did."

A nod.

"Mind if we share?"

Silence. Noah doesn't shrug. He doesn't nod. He doesn't know what to make of Jonathan. He doesn't know what to make of himself, of the instinct in his chest telling him to let him stay.

Finally, Noah shrugs and nods.

He knows that his quiet dark place will get a lot less quiet. From hearing Jonathan talk to himself, Noah knows that Jonathan will keep talking.

But Noah is okay with that.

Sometimes noise isn't all bad.

I sit at the edge of the quiet playground and contemplate why I left the way I did. Noel will be mad at me, I know, but at the moment I don't feel bad about yelling at her and then slamming our front door shut in my anger.

She deserved it. With her smug face and her hands placed gracefully on her delicate hips. The stance of a girl who thought she was in the right.

No. I don't regret leaving like that, but I do regret leaving without a jacket. I stare down at my worn sneakers that I had pulled on in my hasty leave, and sigh. The cold seeps through the holes in the bottoms of my shoes and my bare arms have goose bumps running up and down them.

A bird lands a few feet from where I sit on the plastic curb surrounding the playground. I whistle at it and it flies off to join it's friends in the trees. The sky is growing dark as the sun sets, leaving the apartment buildings in front of me in a gloomy shadow.

Maybe I was wrong. Maybe Noel didn't deserve to be shouted at like I just did only ten minutes ago. She was drunk anyways and the other guy was the one who was flirting with her, not the other way around. And she called me right away when she realized what was happening.

It was my fault for letting her go to the bar alone. My fault for getting jealous when she was obviously not encouraging the dude. And now, sitting out here, alone and freezing, it is my fault for running off like I did.

And I didn't even bring a jacket.

I sigh again and look up at the gloomy apartment buildings. No way I can go back now. Noel will only be angry at me for yelling at her. But the sky is getting darker by the minute and the wind blows over my already cold arms.

Maybe if I tell her I'm sorry and that I will sleep on the couch tonight...

"Hey."

I look up, startled by the voice breaking the quiet around me. Noel stands a few feet away, right where the bird had landed before.

"Hi," I mumble, shuffling my sneakers on the bare ground. "I'm sorry."

"I know. It doesn't take long for you to realize when you are in the wrong."

Noel smiles softly and I grin back, glad that she isn't mad. She holds something up and I smile even wider when I realize it's her purple hoodie.

"Maybe next time you stomp out in the middle of fall, you should bring a coat," she says with a smirk.

"Yeah, or maybe I should stop stomping off, and face my problems instead."

"Sounds like a plan."

Sneakers hit the pavement

Of broken hearts and soles

Frantic minds searching to find

Something they cannot hold

And on this quiet playground

Everything is loud

Children laughing songs

Yet none of them are found

And in darkness there’s a dark

Shadow spinning round

As swing sets sing a melody

Of something quite profound

The color here is dwindling

Inside this purple slide

Yet the bridge of metal bars

Causes one to hide

The seesaw begins to totter

On fragmented consciousness

Bare feet on ground they meet

A tormentor anonymous

Staring at his ragged purple sneakers in annoyance as the sounds of carefree laughter pounded in his ears. As all the other children squealed and screamed while playing their foolish callow games.

It wasn't fair that they all were having fun. Not when he was sitting on the decrepit swingset, alone, with no one wanting to play with him.

It wasn't right.

Fury bubbled inside him.

Other kids playing, running past him. Earsplitting screeches of You're it!

No one had invited him to join in. In fact, ever since he'd joined the fifth grade of this stupid, clannish elementary school, no one had ever been welcoming. When the teacher introduced him to the class, fabricated, over-the-top smiles were thrown his way, but every one of them dissolved as soon as there was no overseer around.

What a pretentious group of juveniles.

Why?

Probably because they knew that his dad was dead and that his mom had abandoned him when he was seven, and that now he resided with a neglegint foster family in the slums of this artificial town.

Well, the joke was on them. If only they knew what he could do, if only they knew why his mother had fled from utter terror.

Another classmate sprinting by in a fit of chuckles, and that was it for him.

He stared at the boy, face devoid of emotion.

Thundering violet clouds twisted over the cobalt sky, immersing the playground below in an ominous dark haze.

Time froze, if but for a moment.

All went silent.

And the classmate was gone.

The boy sprung out of the swingset, and strolled off, a faint smirk on his face.

Good riddance, he thought.

None of them will ever see him again.

My sneakers slapping the pavement, purse jingling against my hip sound so loud against the otherwise quiet night. A dark night, punctuated only by the orange globes cast by street lights. I've lived in this suburban nightmare for years, and yet there are no doors familiar to me. No haven my knock would beckon.

My lungs scream for rest. I push on just a little more, to the park around the corner. My endurance may be lacking, but fortituted, I've a plenty.

The playground is eerie absent children, but not so scary.

Warm Santa Anta winds sway the empty swings.

Clink...

Clink...

Clink...

Clink...

I drop my purse and sit on the rubber strip waiting for my heart to slow down.

I lick a salty tear from the corner of my mouth. It tastes like pennies, blood. He must have hit me harder than I thought. Tomorrow and the days after my face would be purple. I would be showered in apologies, and excuses. Neither genuine. They would fade and so would the bruises. And so would I.

I look back the way i'd come, and then to where I might go. I pick up my purse and keep on going.

Claire took one look at the noisy playground and stuck up her nose. She was not going to play with those hellish fiends, oh she was not. No power on earth could make her move from this very spot and she was sure of it. Until she was picked up by two very muscular arms and placed on the top of a very hot slide.

“Ow Daddy!”

She flailed and threw a fit until she was brought down and placed right in front of his face.

“What is it with you Claire? You do know I’m doing this for your own good, right? If you don’t socialize how will you make any friends?”

Claire only crossed her arms and huffed.

“I don’t need friends I have myself.”

“See thats the thing, darling, everybody needs a friend. Its a bad world out there and you can’t be alone. You gotta cling to something good to keep you from going bad. Good like friends, good like family, good like love,” his hazel eyes pooled with warmth as he said the last words.

“Please go play with the other kids and try to make friends honey, I promise, one friend for the day and we get ice cream on the way home.”

There was one thing Claire could not resist and that was chocolate ice cream but today was different. She was sick of being negotiated into briberous deals with her father. She just wanted to leave him alone. She was much happier when she was alone. It was quiet and peaceful and everything her whirlwind of a mind ever wanted. So she ran. She ran as fast as her little purple sneakers could carry her and climbed into the pipe that lay on the ground.

“Claire!”

She didnt answer. She watched her dad turn around and grab at his hair before walking away. Good. If he didn’t care about her feelings then why should she care about his?

With that she brought her legs up to her knees and placed her head on the plastic. It was nice and dark in this tunnel. Little did Claire know that this would become her permanent favorite spot for years to come: one in which she would read, write and even find love.

sneakers turn into heels

platonic turns into feels

morning's blue skies

turn into purple twilights

once loud houses

turn into quiet places

and light-hearted jokes

become dark, serious thoughts

and playground dates

become late night treats

and of all the things i wished for when I was younger

growing up was the deal breaker

but never did i think

that i'd lay down without a blink

of sleep, and wish for times

with childhood rhymes

It’s 10:16 a.m. and the playground continues to sit quietly.

2020 is the year when no one is allowed to go outside. I go to the playground with a black mask covering, purple hoody, loose jeans, and black sneakers. I sit on a swing with earbuds and listening to music on my phone.

The empty playground was quiet and creepy at this time. Then again, no parent would send their child here anymore. The streetlights give little light just as they give little comfort to the playground. The sandbox shows little trace of children playing here. Even their small footprints from previous outings have faded from time. A playground isn’t a playground without children.

Music blocks the world from my ears. I sit and listen while staring at the emptiness around me. Such a depressing sight. I swing a bit and wait while pondering for the future. Then a long, creaking sound interrupts my song so I remove my earbuds to listen.

“Is someone there?” Is what any normal person would say.

It wasn’t just a normal creak from the carousel being pushed by the wind. Or tree branches rustling and dropping their crunchy leaves. Not even this swingset made this long, creaking noise that sounds more like an eerie moan. I remain silent and turn my direction to the center of the playground. There was no one there or anywhere on the playground. It didn’t sound like someone hiding in the dark either.

I get off the swing and as soon as I put my foot down the ground shook. The loose soil shifts from this miniature quake and the metallic groaning slowly grow louder. I kept my balance when suddenly I hear a chain snap behind me. The swing broke loose one of its chains and whip itself around my waist. The chain lifts me higher than the swing and suddenly I was flying left and right.

The playground roars while its metallic bars creak and bend and shifts to that of a monster. Its roots burst out from the ground and form into twisted, crab-like legs. Its crooked pipes shape like fangs, the colorful slide a snout, the monkey bars a mishappen tail. It swings me over and hangs my dangling body over its face and growls. It's hungry for blood and it has been waiting very patiently for a snack. The chain of the swing tosses me into the jaws like some meaningless grape; however, I react and grab the edge of the slide and climb my way in. Good thing I’m wearing brand-new sneakers because I was able to keep my grip and crawl up the slide.

The monster was trying its best to shake me off and, damn, it was dizzying. Inside the tunnel slide, my head was banging hard! Left, right, up, down! Bang, bonk, thump, bam!

Despite my throbbing head I finally reach the top. The playground monster sends its metallic tentacles at me, ready to turn me into a bloody kabob. I quickly dodge and slip through this way and that, hoping to get the beast tangled. The playground roars and the bars vibrate intensely; loosening my grips and increasing the throbbing in my head. I grab hold on to the monkey bars and steadily climb my way down before the beast could shake me again. When I'm close to the ground I let myself fall and fell flat on my ass. Sore but safe.

I pull myself up and start running. My vision is blurred from the dizziness, but I managed to keep my balance. The playground's crab-like legs carry its heavy body and chase after me. I continue to push myself and run faster while cars and small buildings are being crushed right behind me. I head for the beach and jump over a fence with a "No Trespassing" sign on it. The beast stomps its way and follows me to the docks. I took the longest dock and race to the end of it before turning to face the monster. The playground monster breaks through the wood and stomps closer towards me. When the monster reached the end of the dock I quickly jumped on its face and climb up once more. This time over the tunneled slide, practically running and climbing with haste, while the monster sinks deeper into the ocean.

The support beams break and the dock crumbles underneath the monster's weight. The monster roars loudly yet slowly turns into gurgles. A thousand pipes aim to grab me and take me down into the ocean, but I only look ahead and run. I jump and slip through the bars that try to stab me but I ignore my bloody scratches and rip clothes. My last jump was one big jump and my feet manages to land on the sandy shore. I don't turn back. I keep on running because I know the monster could still swipe me off my feet.

When I am far enough I look back and see the playground beast's small roof peeking out from the water. It's semi dome-shaped head splashes frantically before sinking under completely and let out a few bubbles. I pant heavily and stare at the empty surface of the water and could not believe what just happened.

I barely escape from the Monsterous Playground.