Click… Clack. Click… Clack.
The sound of sharp, glossy black heels echoed across an empty parking lot, the cement rough and rocky.
A dull silver pebble was kicked back from underneath the rhythmic pendulum movement of the shoes.
I stood before a rusted teal gate that barred me from the entrance of my childhood playground. Slowly, I undid the cold, black metal hatch at the top right corner and pulled aside the door, my feet taking a mind of their own for a brief moment and leading the rest of my body onto the premises. Directly before me, I saw the same office I used to go to as a child, the one I used to run to for help whenever I was injured. It reminded me of a certain instance when I had gone in with tears streaming down my cheeks, because even though my hands were really just the slightest shade of rosy red and nothing more, I sincerely believed that they were coated with blood. I likely convinced myself that I actually smelled the foul musk of that thick, sticky blood as well. I sighed gently, my misty breath being carried along with the winter breeze. That glass door, which had always been transparent and pristine when I was a youth, was now layered with thin, shallow scratches and splattered with pasty white stains.
From those first few steps, I could already see how much this place had changed.
A bit more cautiously now, I trekked along the rocky path and turned just slightly to the left. I smiled. Maybe not everything had changed. There it was still: my airplane. With all the colors of the American flag, this plane was actually a slide, large enough for several children to climb in on one end and slide out happily to the other. I remembered a time when I used to peek out the little windows at my friends on the outside and then curl into a ball and slide out the escape hatch. That was how everyone was. Children, laughing and giggling in their high pitched voices and running around the airplane in their efforts to escape being tagged. Those were the times we remembered most of all, but now…
They were gone.
The airplane was boarded shut. Those small metal stairs, now cold and forgotten, once led into the plane, once harbored the giggles of children and squeals of undeniable happiness. But now, they simply led to a block of dark, frayed, decaying wood. Stringy silver cobwebs so thick they resembled a paper wall lined the windows, creating the quintessential home for a lovely family of spiders.
Spiders? I cringed. Creepy crawlers, disgusting creatures that infested every corner of every public place and every nook and cranny in every home decided now to invade my childhood? It was appalling. What happened to the love and the laughter I had known? The warmth of a summer's day beating down on sweaty faces, children smeared with dirt and still refusing to stop for a moment's rest. That was what I remembered.
This was not what I remembered.
I shook my head. The rest of this place may have changed, but I still had to have at least one remnant of my memories left. My tree. There would still be that same, grassy green tree I had played around for years. The one that changed to brilliant reds and oranges every autumn, the one that lost its leaves every winter and the one that was brought back to life every spring. That tree. Just behind the airplane of darkness, there was a plot of empty concrete. That tree was gone.
Panicked, I rushed up and flashed my eyes over the bare space. It just vanished, like it never even existed, like it went with the breeze and faded into nothingness, like a magician just picked it up and hid it in his top hat, never to be found again.
But then, upon closer inspection, I found it. From the little hole of dirt where the tree had once been, a small sprout rose up, its stem strong and upright and its two thin, fragile leaves splitting off in opposite directions. I felt my lips tug into a slight smile. Maybe one day, that tree would grow back again more brilliantly than ever, and the airplane could be polished and waxed back to perfection, and children would once again be able to play to their heart's content.
While it may be winter now, spring always comes again, doesn't it?
A little secret here, that scene about the blood was actually true. I was once little, running around, and I tripped and fell flat directly on my hands and face. When I got up, I sincerely believed I was bleeding all over and freaked out. I was such a strange little five year old...
So, this is actually something I wrote as a descriptive essay for English, which is why it's so much shorter than I usually would write. The limit was actually 500 words, but I went way over... I need some help. Haha. Anyway, I wanted to get some feedback... What do you guys think? I know I definitely need more of the actual description (which is why this will probably be edited and changed before I turn it in), but as a short excerpt, how is it? Please leave a review!