This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.
The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/Lupabeingawolf on 2024-10-21 02:13:57+00:00.
The air was thick with the damp chill of autumn as I led my friends into the park, my heart pounding with a mix of excitement and unease. We’d heard the whispers about Hollow Creek park—a place where the spirits of long-gone children supposedly still played, their laughter echoing through the trees. Some locals swore that on certain nights, you could hear the giggles or see the swings moving on their own, as if the past refused to let go.
“Are we really doing this?” Sarah’s voice was shaky, barely a whisper. I grinned, though I could feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. "It’s just a story. There’s nothing to it." But even as I said the words, I couldn’t shake the unease creeping up my spine. The park was bathed in the dim light of a crescent moon, casting long shadows that twisted and danced like they had a mind of their own. The old iron gates creaked softly in the wind, and I could have sworn they almost seemed to welcome us in.
We moved deeper into the playground, the crunch of dry leaves beneath our feet breaking the unnatural silence. Everything looked oddly well-kept—too well-kept for a place this old. The swings were freshly painted, the merry-go-round looked like it had just been oiled, and the sandbox appeared untouched by time. It was as though the place was waiting for children to return. Waiting for someone.
“Look at that,” Ben said, his voice low, pointing toward the swings. “One’s moving.” I turned, my pulse quickening. Sure enough, one of the swings was swaying gently back and forth, though there was no wind. The chains rattled, creaking with an odd rhythm, like someone was sitting on it, rocking themselves higher and higher.
“It’s just the metal, old swings creak like that,” Sarah said, but her voice was strained, as if she was trying to convince herself more than anyone else. I wasn’t so sure. Something felt… off. I took a step forward, the sound of my boots crunching against the gravel too loud in the otherwise still night. And then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw it.
A figure. Small. Pale. Standing at the far end of the playground by the merry-go-round. It was hard to make out the details in the low light, but it was unmistakably a child. The figure didn’t move, only stood there, watching us. “Do you see that?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper. The others turned, but when they looked back, the figure was gone.
“Probably just a shadow,” Ben muttered, his voice tense, but there was something about the way he said it that made me think he didn’t believe it either. I couldn’t stop looking at the spot where the child had been. I felt the weight of its gaze even though it had vanished.
“Let’s just take a quick look around and get out of here,” Sarah said, her eyes darting nervously toward the swings again. “This place is creeping me out.” We moved deeper into the playground, my feet moving on autopilot, but my mind was elsewhere. My eyes kept flicking back to where the child had stood, but it was empty now. I couldn't shake the feeling that we were being watched, that something was lurking just out of sight, waiting.
The wind picked up, and the branches overhead rustled like whispers. The swing creaked again, but this time it was louder, as if the invisible child had begun to push themselves higher. And then, I heard it—a giggle. Soft and innocent, too bright to be anything but out of place. I froze, my heart thudding painfully against my ribs. The laugh was distant, but so clear it seemed to fill the whole park.
“Did you hear that?” Sarah’s voice was small, like she didn’t want to admit it out loud. I nodded, my throat tight. “Yeah. That… that wasn’t just the wind.” The giggle came again. It echoed through the trees, ringing out in a way that made the hairs on my arms rise. The park was deserted. There were no kids here, no one else around. Just us.
Then, just as I thought it couldn’t get worse, a voice—no more than a whisper—floated toward us on the wind. "Play with us..." I could feel a cold grip tightening around my chest. My legs felt heavy, like I was rooted to the spot. But I couldn’t look away from the swing. It was moving faster now, as if someone was pushing it from the other side. As if… the child had climbed into the seat.
“We need to go. Now,” Ben’s voice was sharp, his hand reaching for my arm. But before any of us could react, the merry-go-round started to turn—slowly at first, then faster, like someone was spinning it with a frantic urgency. The air around us grew colder, and our breath fogged in the night.
And then, it happened.
The child’s figure reappeared. At the center of the playground. But this time, it wasn’t just standing. It was waiting. It was staring. Its eyes were dark as coal, hollow and empty, like there was nothing behind them at all. Its form flickered like a broken lightbulb, its outline barely visible against the night. And when it smiled—oh God, when it smiled—it wasn’t right. Its lips stretched wide, but the teeth were jagged, blackened, and twisted.
My blood ran cold. The giggling grew louder, closer. The swing creaked in time with the sound, as though the invisible child was calling to us, begging us to come play. To join them.
I took a step back, but my legs felt like they were made of lead. “We have to go. We have to go.” But the wind picked up, sudden and sharp, making the shadows around us feel alive. The trees seemed to twist and lean in, like they were watching us too. The playground wasn’t just a place anymore. It was waiting. It was pulling us in.
I turned, and we all bolted. The exit was so much farther than it should have been. The path stretched out, as if the park itself was reshaping, pulling us deeper into its grip. “Why can’t we find the gate?” Sarah’s voice was panicked. Her hands shook as she pulled out her phone, but the screen flickered—no signal.
Behind us, the swing creaked again, louder this time. And then came the voice again—"Play with us..." Only it wasn’t a whisper anymore. It was clear. It was commanding.
With a final burst of adrenaline, I pushed forward, pulling Sarah and Ben along. My heart pounded in my ears, and my feet were slick with fear. I could feel it—something—just behind us, just out of sight. I dared to glance back, and there it was. The figure. But now, there were others. Children—pale, translucent, their eyes wide and black as pits. Their faces… wrong. Twisted in ways that shouldn’t be possible. Some of them were missing limbs. Others had faces that had melted away, revealing nothing but darkness beneath.
The gate. Finally, the gate. We stumbled through it, gasping for air. I turned, my legs shaking, my breath coming in frantic gasps. The park behind us was silent. The playground was still. Nothing moved.
But I could hear it. The giggle. Faint, but unmistakable. Still too clear.
We didn’t stop running until we were in the car, the doors locked, the engine roaring to life. We sped away, the silhouette of the playground fading in the rearview mirror.
But the giggling… it didn’t stop.