This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.
The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/Tenacious_ on 2024-10-03 09:34:39+00:00.
I come from an old midwestern town. Decades before I was born, it had been a thriving industrial settlement. Now, it's a ghost town, complete with a pair of abandoned factories, empty houses, and a disused waterpark, one of the largest in the country. Back when the region had a thriving middle class, the waterpark had thousands of square miles of potential customers to support it. But as the factories and the unions left, the waterpark went bust. Just like with everything else, everyone knows it's never coming back.
I only mention this waterpark because it's haunted. Well, that's not quite right: the waterpark isn't haunted, it's the pool at the center of the park that is. The pool, almost a quarter of the total area of the waterpark, has large pistons meant to generate waves, and metal coils at its bottom that can heat up to regulate water temperature. Though it's anyone's guess whether the pistons or the heating elements could actually still work even if the park's electric bill were ever paid again.
Everyone knows the rules of the haunted pool: enter the waterpark during the day, and you'll be fine, but if you're still there after sunset, no matter what you do, you'll be found floating face-down in the pool the next morning. As the town lore goes, a decade or two ago, a town detective, Icarus Quixano Thaddeus, went into the park one night, determined to debunk what he thought was a myth, or beat it if it wasn't. He was clever: he set up cameras around the pool during the day, he brought his service revolver, and he even had a friend watching him with binoculars from the top of a tall building in town, well outside the waterpark.
If you're wondering why I know his full name, it's because I've visited his gravestone. The morning after his mission to debunk or beat the haunted pool, Icarus was found face-up in the water, revolver in hand. Heavy fog had meant that his friend hadn't been able to see anything, and there was no trace of the cameras come morning. Even though I had never met Icarus, out of a certain respect for his effort, I had made a habit of visiting his grave every few months; after all, he was the last legend our town had left. When I had last visited, I could smell the residue of rotten eggs thrown at the grave. Probably just some stupid kids. Everyone knows that you can't beat the pool, but obviously no one would hate Icarus for trying.
That was about two months ago. Last Wednesday, as I was walking home from high school with two friends, Tommy and John, the spring air crisp and with a hint of newfound warmth, Tommy suddenly spoke.
"Some guys are going to the waterpark this weekend." If the words came as a surprise to me, they shouldn't've: during the day, it was a somewhat popular spot for high school seniors to hang out. After all, even though the waterslides were dry, the pool at the bottom wasn't.
"That's…not smart," John said.
"We'll obviously leave before sundown. You two should join us."
"I…I don't know."
"Think about it, yeah?"
"Fine." They both turned to look at me.
"Saturday or Sunday?" I asked.
"Saturday."
"I can't. I'm visiting my aunt's family Saturday. I won't get back until evening."
"Come on."
"Can't. Parents are making me." We neared the town general store that we passed on our walk home every day. "Guys, my mom wanted me to get bread on my way home. I'll see you two tomorrow."
"See you."
.
The owner of the general store had some interest in town history, and collected some various town artifacts: a copy of the town charter from about two centuries ago, a gear from a now-abandoned factory, that sort of thing. The various objects were pinned to one wall of the general store, a sort of tiny museum. There was a short line to check out, and I glanced over the objects as I waited. I almost didn't notice the change. When I got to the register, I asked the cashier about it.
"What happened to Icarus's revolver? Didn't it use to be up on that wall?" The cashier shrugged.
"New owner took over the store the other day. Probably pitched it."
"Huh," I said. Maybe I was just too surprised to muster up a proper response. Maybe I didn't care enough.
"No loss there," the other cashier said. "Guy was kind of an idiot. Everyone knows you're dead if you go to the pool at night." "Kind of pretentious too," the first cashier said. "Thinking he could outsmart the pool. That'll be $5.49."
I paid and took the bread, absentmindedly thanking the cashier. I had taken about two-dozen steps for home when I turned around, walking toward the back of the store, looking around.
*I last went to the general store this weekend, and I was pretty sure I had seen Icarus's revolver there then. Trash pickup in the town was on Thursdays. So maybe…*I found a dumpster behind the store and opened it to a wave of the smell of…well, trash.
I had only looked for a minute when I was starting to question whether this was really a good idea, but then I found it: an old, silver-colored, 6-shot revolver. Spinning the cylinder, two chambers were empty, but four still had bullets in them. Before anyone walked out of the store, saw me holding a gun, assumed the worst and called the cops, I slipped the revolver into my backpack and set out for home.
(I'll update you all on what happens this weekend, and link here to a part 2 then.)