After Dark in Edgewood Park

I used to believe that there wasn't anything strange about Edgewood Park. After all, it looks like any typical neighborhood park, complete with all the normal features: a mid-sized community pool, an outdoor basketball blacktop, two Little League baseball fields. There's a small rec center in the middle which houses the changing rooms and showers for the pool, restrooms, and an office for the usual staff of one or two volunteers to hang out in. For young children, there's the standard "ages 3-8" playground and a nearby concession stand where folks could buy a bag of chips or some corn syrup-laden candy. Edgewood Park always looked perfectly ordinary, as did the section of Spokane where it was located, in a neighborhood called Hillyard.

I moved to Spokane after I finally got sick of being broke as hell in San Francisco. I'd heard through someplace that Hillyard was a nice spot, peaceful, and mostly comprised of families and old people. All that was fine by me; I'd slowed down a bit since arriving at my thirties. Still, I sometimes felt like the odd duck out in Hillyard, having never married or had kids. I'd had a few nice relationships since moving to Washington, but they all just seemed to run their natural course and die in a blaze of mutual appreciation. It wasn't a big deal. I was still young enough to start a family if the opportunity were to ever seriously present itself. I still am. At least, I hope I'll have that chance.

Regardless of my single status in Hillyard, I always enjoyed going to Edgewood Park. It reminded me of my own carefree childhood, although I also enjoyed spying on some of the more beleaguered parents that seemed to bring their kids to Edgewood just to ignore them. "It's like Disneyland without all the stuff," I joked perhaps too many times.

However, I quickly noticed that nobody went to Edgewood Park at night. There were utilities in place for it, great big floodlights all over, apparently triggered by automatic timers. But I'd not once seen a night game of baseball happening there. Even the teenagers avoided Edgewood after sunset, choosing other hangouts for their beer-sneaking and make-out sessions. It was kind of hilarious, watching all the parents stringently corral their kids into cars at the first hint of long shadows. It was as if they were all conditionally afraid of the dark.

I say this all lightly now, but I always went with the flow at the time, homeward-bound with the rest of the herd at dusk. First of all, I didn't want to be seen as some creepy adult who wanders the park alone at night. That's not very "Hillyard". But then there was also a part of me that felt, just as the others must have, this strong desire to leave before nightfall. It was almost like riding a current away from Edgewood Park. And I don't know how to put it, but it was also like I was being rewarded with a pleasant feeling as I walked back to my car and left with the sun still hanging low in the sky. My past has shockingly few drug experiences, but it was like I was getting a big dose of the goofy gas at the dentist's office. I floated away with the others, blissful and dazed.

But I must have messed up someplace. I was at Edgewood Park by myself again, got caught up watching one of the late afternoon Little League games. Afterward, everyone went in for their usual dusk mass exodus, which I followed dutifully. When I got back to my car, I realized that I had lost my wallet somewhere in the park. I thought back and realized I must have left it at the concession stand where I'd bought a bag of gummy bears. I started back into the park to retrieve the wallet, hoping above anything else that it would still be there.

As I made my way back across the parking lot, I passed by several families, each of them hurrying in the opposite direction. A few of the parents shot disapproving glances my way and many of the kids seemed confused that I'd even consider returning to Edgewood Park at that time. However, I just shrugged sheepishly at them and kept at a steady pace. Also, adding to my determined jaunt was this sickly feeling that had begun crawling over my skin. That goofy gas sensation was dissipating, replaced by a chilled, dull weight in my stomach that made my legs feel weak.

I cut through one of the baseball fields, making a direct beeline between myself and the concession stand. I even hopped a chain-link fence by one of the dugouts, as though the walk to the gate just ten steps away would have added more than a few seconds to my mission. But the sun was setting fast. A sharp spike of fear crawled up my spine and told me that those parents who rushed their kids from the park every evening weren't just being so hilarious after all.

By that point, I could see the concession stand just ahead. The playground behind it was already awash with shadows. I'd noted that the floodlights had yet to come on, but I was just so glad in the moment that I was almost at my destination. If the stand had been any farther away, I probably would have given up by then, electing to return in the daylight-drenched safety of morning. The big plywood door on the stand's counter was pulled closed, but I knew it would be unlocked. Crime wasn't an issue in Hillyard and that was doubly true for Edgewood Park after sunset.

I opened the door and could only slightly see anything in the dark, tiny structure. Searching a bit, I finally spied my wallet, or rather its silhouette, sitting next to some sort of display. It was as though my eyes refused to adjust to the fading light. I reached over, putting much of my body weight onto the counter, and grabbed my wallet. Before I could retract myself, I saw something, or several somethings, crawling along the shadowy floor. Shocked, I launched myself backwards, away from concession stand and whatever it was that I'd seen in there.

That's when the giant floodlights of Edgewood Park came on. They blinded me for a moment and, during that time, I was surrounded by cruel, whispering taunts. Wild laughter arose from all four corners and the edges of the park, but some of the voices seemed only a few feet away from where I stood frozen. Abject fear made time difficult to gauge. I couldn't have been blinded more than a few seconds, but it felt like forever. Gradually, my vision returned to normal and the voices subsided. I was left standing alone in the now brightly-lit park. But beyond the florescent cocoon, I could see that a pitch black night had fallen over Edgewood Park.

I began to walk back to my car. The sickly feeling left me soon enough and I began to feel foolish. Under the floodlights, Edgewood was just a park like any other at night, albeit a little creepy - especially since I was walking alone. But the fear had been purely psychological, a suggestion by overbearing parents on their kids that had spread to me. However, I still checked several times along the way to make sure that I still had my wallet with me. Foolish or not, I was ready to go home. Before long, I was back at my car and navigating the streets of Hillyard home.

After I got back to my house, bigger and nicer than I ever could have afforded back in San Francisco, I immediately switched into my bedtime clothes and headed straight to bed. I probably could have used a shower to wipe away some of the fear sweat I'd been drenched in earlier, but I was exhausted. I lied down in bed and immediately fell asleep.

When I awoke, I was back in Edgewood Park. It was still night and I was standing where I had been frozen before, right in front of the concession stand. The voices shouted even louder. I tried to let out a weak cry as my eyes adjusted to the bright lights. The whispering taunts and wild laughter subsided again. I was colder than I'd been earlier, though I was dressed as I had been, not in my pajamas. The floodlights were all on, but they weren't nearly as bright as they had been when I had left.

I was scared, more scared than I've ever been. I stood there waiting for something to happen, but nothing did. No other choice, I returned to my car again. Only this time I ran.

I made it home, but didn't go back to sleep. Couldn't if I tried. It didn't matter though. I was pulled through the chasm again all the same.

That was some time ago. It's not yet morning now, but I'm not sure that I'll ever see morning again. I've been returned to Edgewood Park four more times: once more by the concession stand, twice near the pool, and I'm not sure where I was exactly the last time. It was like a strange, new field and it took me longer to find my way back to my car. The floodlights get dimmer with each...I don't know what to call them. Rotations? And with that growing darkness, the shadows consume more of the park each time I return. I've seen several more of those things crawling under the cover of the dark. I've determined that they aren't like any animal I've ever seen. Not from the natural world.

This night will eventually find an ending. Soon, the lights will darken completely. They're almost to that point now. Maybe at that point I'll finally be allowed to leave for good. Or maybe - and I pray this won't be the case - but maybe that will be when I'm not allowed to leave at all anymore, the moment when I will forever join the secret, nighttime voices of Edgewood Park.