sp00py

	Stan had always been a thrill-seeker: there was no tree too tall, no roller coaster too fast, or any house too haunted for him to challenge for the sake of the rush. So naturally, hearing rumors surrounding an abandoned amusement park a few towns over was all but a dare for him to jump into his car and roast marshmallows over rotting carnival wood all night. The park itself was in a relatively secluded area: aside from the flat land the park was built on, the surrounding area was a humid marsh constantly resounding with the bleating of frogs. Despite the dull, noisy, and sweaty setting, the park was able to draw in visitors and keep itself afloat until the owner abruptly shut it down years ago due to the oddly high mortality rate of the overnight maintenance workers. The last detail naturally formed the basis for many urban legends in the area; monsters in the marsh, the park being built on Native American burial grounds, a crazed cannibal hiding in the woodworks, aliens, illegal alien cannibals hiding in the marsh that had their burial grounds built over, etc. Of course, a lot of the more sane individuals chalked it up to the workers putting a bullet in their head to finally silence the incessant buzzing, croaking, and droning that filled the air in the park from dusk til dawn, but that clearly does not make for a juicy legend to gossip about.
	Whatever the case, the amusement park was dark, damp, dirty, decrepit, and all around spooky, and that was all Stan needed to justify hanging around for a cheap thrill. The sun was well under the horizon, and the cacophony of the local wildlife was in full swing: the stage was set for Stan to bum around until he got bored or gave his pants a sufficient shade of brown on the backside.
	"Welp, time to see if there are any ghosts in the mood for marshmallows tonight," Stan mused to himself as turned on his flashlight and hopped over the thoroughly rusted turn bars at the entrance. As he wandered the grounds, Stan noticed that the park was left surprisingly intact over the years: all of the buildings and attractions were kept as they were without being torn apart for scrap, and some of the concession stands even had various utensils still laying around inside. It all gave a feeling of the place being ditched in a hurry, both by the owner and by any would-be looters afterward. This nagging thought both put Stan on edge and fed his craving for a thrill. As he ventured deeper, he noticed more off-putting details: open cash registers with the money still inside, decorative balloons that had not yet deflated, emergency exits to buildings being propped open with whatever was on hand...
	The most jarring detail, however, was the sudden silence of the local wildlife.
	"Right, I think that's enough exploring for one night."
	As Stan turned around to quickly walk out, a rumbling animalistic noise resounded throughout the park. Though similar to the noise of a croaking frog, it sounded less like an ordinary amphibian and more like a band of organic tubas sounding in unison. When fear finally released its grip on Stan's legs, he made a break for the park entrance at full sprint. Whatever made the noise was certainly faster than him, however: it was not long before he heard the footsteps and heavy breathing of some large creature closing in on him from behind. With running away being out of the question, Stan quickly scanned the nearby buildings and took a hard right towards the nearest food stand. Jumping over the counter, Stan reached for the sliding metal barrier to seal off the counter and slammed it down before he could so much as get a glimpse of how close the creature might have been to catching him. No noise of impact was made, which brought him little solace.
	Counting his blessings that the hinges were not rusted enough to keep him from closing the barrier in the first place, Stan quickly searched the stand before the thing outside opted to tear its way in through the rotting walls. "If I can't outrun the thing, I'll just stab it with a knife until it dies or runs off..." Stan panted to himself as he located the utensils and rummaged through them. Spoons, whisks, ladles, measuring cups...
	"Where did all the knives go?!"
	The sound of clattering metal outside the door answered his question.