My brand new rides once glistened waiting for their first passengers. Each piece crafted meticulously to insure safety was not compromised. My ticket booths freshly painted were prepared to make change for each child who longed to escape the tedium of normal life, even if only for an afternoon. My rides include a 90’ tall Ferris wheel, rows of electric bumper cars, swinging boats, and a merry-go-round ready for the sounds of a calliope to bring my animals to life.
Sadly, I provide no fun for it never came. Lines never grew outside my entrance gates. Children never clamored for more ride tickets from their parents. Now, silence reigns but for the solemn clicks of handheld boxes looking for death which is the only entertainment I provide. My park is picturesque but only a silent killer walks between the bumper cars and oversees the Ferris wheel. It will be this way for hundreds of years.
Pripyat is my town located in the country of Ukraine. Most no longer remember, but they know the name Chernobyl. In 1986, the silence of the night was interrupted as death began to rain from above. It stripped the paint from my rides and irradiated all of the plant life within my gates. My future is grim and all that remains is for the trees and foliage to swallow what is left. Silence surrounds me as more death washes through me with the gentle rains of spring and fall. Children forever gone.
Written for Warrior Writers Prompt #34 on Medium.