Abandoned memories
An abandoned park sat in the middle of the forest. Greenery crept over metal, leaves swallowing the rusted poles and old lights.
The carousel stood still, yet somehow retained enough energy to flicker a few bulbs on and off.
He climbed onto it, jumping over overgrown bushes and a fallen horse still pierced by its metal pole. Carefully, he slipped his hand into a mirror and pulled out a letter. Sitting on one of the benches beside the horses, he opened it.
The instructions were clear: find the center of the park, wait for the last light of day, and place the prism there.
He removed a small glass object from the envelope and examined it. Then he jumped back over the bushes, tracking the sun and realizing there wasn’t much time left.
The center was easy to find—nothing grew there. A clean circle of concrete, surrounded by wild grass and vegetation.
He placed the prism in the middle, stepped back a few paces, and waited. Over the mountains, the sun sank low. From the narrow gap where one peak met another, the final ray of sunlight shot forward, struck the prism, and scattered into many directions.
The park lit up at once and began to move. The prism lifted from the ground, glowing with a light of its own.
