Dark Hallows II: Tales from the Witching Hour

by Mark Parker

  Katrina said nothing.

  This is one of her tricks. Has to be. Ben died in a car crash, nothing more.

  He never spoke to me like this.

  Did he?

  No longer trusting her fragile memory, or any thought that crossed her ravaged brain, Katrina backed up. She wouldn’t engage with the severed head of her dead husband—what a ridiculous sentence that was, she thought—and turned away, running to the left. She thought she was heading toward the exit, having had enough of Abby's sickening games, but had she noticed the sign, she would have discovered she was wrong.

  Dead wrong.

  Katrina entered the ride area, a vast hub lined with payment booths and attendant stands; this part of the venue required tickets and cash payment, and acted as the activity center of the park itself. This is where the real money was made, the reason people came to Whisper World in the first place. Katrina herself had spent hours in this area, usually with a smile on her face.

  But when the gates slammed shut behind her, and the music and lights died, leaving her in a dark space flanked by the demonic shadows of the silent rides, she knew something was amiss.

  However, the moonlight provided a brief respite. She closed her eyes, preparing them to adjust to the darkness. She sniffed, and soon regretted that decision.

  The smell of decay was back, and stronger than before. Katrina actually gagged when she breathed deep, and opened her mouth. It reminded her of dank alleyways back in the town, small narrow spaces filled with moldy food and all manners of rubbish. The smell of rusted metal was strong too, a wet, slippery smell tinged with a coppery tang, the essence of extreme neglect.

  Was it metal? Or was is blood?

  Katrina swallowed and looked around. She stood in front of the Ferris wheel, its circular structure towering high above her. On closer inspection, she noticed three of the cars were missing on the wheel itself, replaced by nothing but broken clasps and dangling cables. Aware of her surroundings, she glanced down at the access platform to the ride. The corrugated metal steps were drenched in a slimy liquid, with flecks of red rust floating in it. The metal itself was darkened from age, and bent in several places.

  She shook her head. This is impossible. People were just here, riding the rides, having fun.

  Yet, closing her eyes provided no redemption. The decay remained, nothing disappeared. She wasn’t imagining this, although she still held out hope that she was losing her mind and the darkness and decay would soon disappear. Stepping away from the Ferris wheel, she saw the rollercoaster, its track bent and broken. Parts of the track were missing, leaving gaps in the looping runway, and several parts had collapsed to the ground, buried amongst the unfathomably long grass there. Off to her left, she noticed a red rollercoaster car laying on its side in the pathway, broken and smashed from what she could only assume was a high fall above. She slowly roamed her eyes from the car to the track, and back again. Katrina caught her breath.

  The pink, heart-shaped entrance to the Tunnel of Love loomed on the horizon, and Katrina knew that walking past this ride took her to the busiest part of the theme park. She'd tried the arcade and failed, so if Abby wasn’t waiting by her favorite part of the park, maybe she was waiting by her least favorite.

  Which means…

  Oh, God.

  Katrina gulped, and for the first time on this mysterious quest, she found she couldn’t move.

  She didn’t want to go any further.

  Walking to the side, Katrina placed her hand on a bent metal fence. A rustle of plastic caught her attention, and she quickly retracted her hand. Glancing down, she saw a plastic sign attached to the metal criss-cross, and on closer inspection, she noticed a piece of paper within the plastic, and realized it was hung there intentionally. A sign. A warning. Taking advantage of the beautiful moonlight, she lifted the paper out of the plastic and began to read.

  THE AMUSEMENT DEVICE SAFETY COUNCIL (ADSC)

  The British Association for Leisure Parks, Piers and Attractions

  Inspection Date: November 2, 2015

  Inspector: James Rogers

  Inspection Results/Findings: FAIL – PARK TO BE CONDEMNED

  Katrina wiped her brow once more, but her hand slid off the flesh with little traction. She groaned and continued reading. Skipping the mandated part of the report, she skimmed to the crux of the document. She shook her head, and a drop of hot sweat hit the paper with a tiny thud. There's no way, this can be happening. Blinking, she continued to read a list of the accidents and fatalities that had occurred in the park since its opening in 2014:

  Two women had drowned in the Tunnel of Love. A third man survived, but with severe brain damage. He refused to press charges.

  A child had lost an eye when a pellet ricocheted in the Shooting Gallery.

  Three separate incidents of suspected suicide—two victims jumped from the Ferris wheel, one from the top of the rollercoaster. Six people witnessed this. No charges were pressed.

  An empty rollercoaster car had derailed during testing and killed a family of four on landing.

  A man in a wheelchair had been electrocuted when he rolled over an exposed power cable.

  Seventeen children have been reported missing during park hours. None were found or located. No parents pressed charges.

  Katrina released her grip on the notice. It fluttered on the breeze and lightly slapped the concrete. She rubbed her temples, groaning in the silence of the night.

  No. This can't be. The park is still open, has always remained open. It's never been condemned, it's always been one of the safer places to visit in Lake Whisper.

  Hasn’t it?

  I just saw people exiting the park, people leaving after a fun day. People leaving, exhausted by their escapades within.

  Like I did with Abby.

  Six times, no, five. The sixth…that didn’t happen.

  I left alone on the sixth time.

  Katrina stared at the paper on the ground, remembered its tragic listing.

  I left alone…

  Now, I remember.

  Abby.

  She's still here. She never left.

  Neither did the other children. Whisper World claimed them all.

  I have to find her.

  Breathing in, Katrina started to walk forward, her gait unsteady in the wake of the latest revelation, and headed for the Tunnel of Love. Out of the shadows of the Ferris wheel, the crumbled path became clearer in the stark moonlight, and Katrina suddenly wondered how the moon had come up so quickly. She estimated she'd been in the park less than an hour, and the sun was setting just after she entered. What had happened?

  Nothing is what it seems. You know that.

  Katrina nodded to her own statement.

  The sloshing water of the Tunnel ride prickled at her ears. The sound was usually soothing, relaxing, especially during a warm summer's day. Katrina observed the six Cupid-shaped boats as they bobbed on the water, and found herself wandering closer, to sate her curiosity. The paint was flaking from the boats in multiple places, and one Cupid had lost an eye, revealing the wooden texture beneath. It reminded her of The Terminator, with skin missing from half of its face. Looking down at the murky depths of the water, she felt her stomach spin and coil. She gagged and vomited, splattering the overgrown grass with her lunch. Wait, had she eaten lunch today?

  The water was dark and rich in color, but as it lapped at the base of the pale boats, the gentle waves were deep crimson in color—blood red. On the surface, Katrina noticed several corpses lying face down, some complete and some not so much, floating and bobbing along. A head, still intact with blonde matted hair and sickly bloated skin, clonked against the bottom of the nearest boat and rolled off to continue its unending journey. An outstretched hand complete with a silver wedding band drifted along on its lonesome, its curled, withered fingers arcing skyward.

  Katrina backed off, now terrified and on the verge, on the edge of losing it.

  She returned to the cracked path
and headed to her destination.

  The Tunnel of Love disappeared behind her as she walked. The humidity in the air was disappearing now, giving way to a cooler, colder temperature. She rubbed her arms and felt the rigid gooseflesh there. For the first time, her outfit was becoming a hindrance.

  Stepping beneath the wooden arch for Whisper World Central, she came face to face with the remainder of the rides. The entrance to the incomplete rollercoaster, its broken skeleton backlit by the moon, the spinning Tea Cups, the Log Flume, The Whisper Plunge, the Ghost Train and the Whispering House of Horrors all stretched out before her. A narrow path between the two horror attractions reminded her that so much more of the park was yet to be seen.

  But that didn’t matter. She'd found her place and didn’t need to explore further.

  She knew she was in the right place, was certain of it.

  And that's because Abby was standing at the entrance to the House of Horrors.

  "Abby?" Katrina uttered, her strength suddenly sapped at the sight of the young girl.

  Instead of disappearing into the derelict building that housed one of the spookier rides of the park, as Katrina expected, Abby walked forward, and approached her.

  Katrina fell to her knees, the smooth skin flaying on the rough concrete, her journey almost complete. The strenuous horror and toil of the previous—hour, hours?—finally crushed her inner spirit, and rendered her useless. Abby walked over in silence, her eyes hidden beneath her long brown hair, her footing assured and confident, especially so for a six-year-old. The young girl stopped a few feet from the kneeling woman, but said nothing.

  "Well, I'm here. I came," Katrina uttered, exhausted. "What do you want?"

  "You," came the hissing whisper, but it came from the chilled air, not from the figure standing before her.

  "Well, you…you have me," she said, defeated.

  "It's been too long," the voice replied.

  "Yes…yes, I believe it has," Katrina said, playing along.

  "Are you ready to return?"

  "Return?"

  "You don’t remember, do you?"

  "I don’t. I remember this place, I remember…it’s a part of me, I can feel it in my blood for some reason, but I don’t know why."

  "You don’t remember because you're one of the lucky…no, scratch that, you're the only lucky one to have escaped its hellish gates, to have walked free in the aftermath."

  Katrina bit her lip, confused and a little concerned. Do I want to remember?

  Haven't you had enough? Your vivid dreams and nightmares—both of which combine on a regular basis—that sap the very soul from you, your many insecurities, the death of your beloved husband? How much can one woman take? You deserve better. You deserve to walk away pain-free, without knowing. Leave this be, leave this alone, let this one thing be left mysterious.

  But I must. It's been eating at me for years.

  Swallowing, and breathing through her nose, she went for it. "Aftermath of what?"

  Abby looked up and smiled, revealing her battered face and her gapped grin, and that's when Katrina remembered. Years of her life disappeared in a savage instant and whipped her back to her childhood. She finally felt her sanity slip and vanish, washed away like a pesky spider in the tub. The memory came crashing back, violent and forceful, the door in her mind that had protected her to this very moment obliterated like mere matchsticks in a hurricane.

  The sounds of the rides started up once again and exploded in her ears, rocking Katrina to her very core. The rollercoaster roared like a demonic dragon, the Ferris wheel creaked and groaned like rusty bolts inside her very skull, screeching deep inside her ear canals. She slapped her hands to her head and screamed, trying to block out the stunted joy and the innocence of such music, but she heard nothing aside from the drone of the theme park as it returned to normalcy. The decaying rides once again found strange new life in the mysterious new world, one where small girls somehow managed to survive in an abandoned—no, it's not abandoned, its alive—theme park.

  A bolt of rigid lightning severed the night sky with a vicious crack, making Katrina jump. The light patter of rain began once more.

  But it wasn’t a small girl, was it?

  It was you. You were the small girl.

  No, it's impossible. Abby is my daugh…my daugh…

  You can't even say the words, and that’s because you never had a daughter.

  I did. Abby was…

  No.

  You didn’t.

  Katrina stood up, but immediately flopped to the ground, sweat pouring off her exposed flesh; her clothes sodden through from the heavy rain that now fell. She suddenly remembered with utmost clarity, a starkness that blinded her for mere seconds.

  I'm Abby.

  No.

  Yes.

  Katrina forced her eyes open, fighting against the pain, and after a blinding white flash, Abby was wearing a blue tank top and white jean shorts, a pair of white trainers, and had her hair tied back—a replica of her outfit on that day. The small girl stood in the rain, drenched, her clothes crinkled and transparent from the downpour, hugging her tiny frame. Katrina reached out for her, and fell forward, her face splashing in a muddy puddle on the concrete. She gazed up at Abby, who began to cry.

  The metal turnstile poking her hip…

  The rainfall that no one else noticed, and never seemed to stop…

  The man with the grotesque, lopsided face…

  Memories that pained and scared a grown woman, but totally petrified a young girl.

  Of course!

  Katrina crawled forward, her hands sinking in the water and finding slopping mud where the grass verge was seconds before, the puddles forming around her hindering her progress. The rain thrashed her back and sides, pushed her to her knees, and whipped her to the ground with no mercy. The deluge prevented her from mounting a suitable stance. She needed to reach Abby—although she wasn’t sure why. She just knew that reaching the young girl was the sole reason for her coming here, the only reason she was beckoned.

  "You survived this once. But I didn’t," Abby mused, her words tinged with sadness.

  Katrina shook her head, water sluicing off her face. "You did," she gasped, breathing heavily. "We did."

  "No, you survived. I didn’t escape. I'm trapped here for eternity."

  "We both escaped," Katrina uttered. She screamed in defiance, punching the soaked ground, splashing water into the soggy air. "We both did. And we can do so once again. Now."

  Abby shook her tiny head, her soaked hair slicked to her pale face. She was holding Pepsi's sodden left arm in her hand now. The rest of the bear was nowhere in sight. She held out her other hand, inches from Katrina, water dripping from the fingertips.

  Then, she was feet away.

  And seconds later, Abby grew smaller as she vanished into the distance. Katrina screamed, an animalistic howl, the roar lost on the cacophony of heavy rain that now slapped her, beat her, and abused her. Every inch of her bare flesh stung from the rapport of raindrops, but she couldn’t stop. Wouldn’t stop.

  But that wasn’t her choice anymore…

  Katrina felt her strength ebbing, and lowered her slick face to the sodden ground. It dropped into a shallow puddle and she panicked, fearing that she was drowning. Despite this, she closed her eyes, coming to terms with her inevitable defeat.

  The memory became clear as crystal in her mind's eye.

  Twenty-four years ago…women drowning in the Tunnel of Love…missing children…a wheelchair user electrocuted. Aside from those tragedies, suicide and murder forever changed the innocence of Whisper World.

  But people and their families didn’t care. The deaths were urban legends, myths, surely. Some even suggested that the stories were mere creation, to drive people through the gates, to promote the horror aspect of the park, the Ghost Train and the Whispering House of Horror. After all, worse PR had been documented in the past.

  No one in his or her right mind would keep a th
eme park open following such tragedy, right?

  Right?

  Katrina remembered reading the condemnation notice only moments ago, and recalled her confusion at the date on the document. 2015. She didn’t recall the park being condemned or recommended for closure.

  And then she realized why.

  No, it was 1991. That's when the inspection took place, and the unsafe park recommended for closure. That's when I came here for the sixth time in my life. The final time in my life—my young life anyway.

  Because for all of the drowned women and disappearing kids and suicidal patrons, no one ever mentioned the fatal tragedy that occurred in the Whispering House of Horrors. It never gained exposure, never made the news, and never surfaced as part of popular folklore. It never had the chance to become an urban legend because no one knew about it. Compared to the other deaths, most of which happened with witnesses or in public, it was possible to cover this one up. And in the wake of the bad publicity, she was certain that's what the park owners had done.

  Only three people saw it happen.

  Abby, and her parents.

  None of them walked away from that ride. None of them had survived.

  After all, you can't reveal the truth when you're dead, can you?

  But Abby isn't dead. You're Abby.

  No, I'm Katrina. Abby was me in a former life.

  You're claiming you're the subject of reincarnation?

  No…I mean…I don’t think so.

  Abby mentioned it herself, I was the only lucky one to survive in the aftermath.

  But what does that mean?

  And suddenly, Katrina was no longer in the water. Her drenched body became weightless, lifted into the air, as if nothing but a sodden feather. She gazed down and shrieked, her fear of heights suddenly becoming a problem, ironic considering she loved riding the rollercoaster.

  Wait, no, you don’t have a fear of heights.

  Abby does.

  After floating for a moment, the theme park disappeared silently behind vast curtains, and as they closed, the velvet folds solidified into something tangible. They became a colorful tapestry of terror, decorated with flesh-eating zombies and evil demons and blood-soaked vampires.