I walked in the middle of the night, the muted howls of dogs from the distant houses made the night colder. My senses are sharp as I watch my feet squish the wet sidewalk.
The drizzles continue to fall, slightly wetting my face. I turn my head every now and then whenever I hear a sound, my feet rooted and in a stance I did not know I could do.
I heard crickets and a small coo of an owl, indicating that I am near the place I have to be.
I exhaled a breath, immediately turning into a cold air of carbon dioxide. When I reached the park, I smelt the distinctive smell of grass and rust. The swing nearby moved with the wind. It is a creepy view, a grassland with old and rusty swings, slides and monkey bars.
This park has been here ever since I can remember. I could not remember its glory d
