Survival Of The Fittest

(Simon Smith, continued from I Have to Return Some Videotapes)

Simon walked through the dreary park, his camera in hand. It was a foggy morning. Perfect for atmospheric liminal shots. He had come as early as possible before the fog lifted. He had told his parents he’d be going to meet some friends for coffee, but that was to keep them from finding out he’d come here.

This park had a dark reputation due to a murder that had happened a decade prior. Ever since then, it had almost been completely abandoned. The playground equipment had fallen into disrepair and the greenery had become overgrown. Simon thought this place was perfect for his photography. He loved this kind of environment for his photographs.

Simon found the old playground equipment. The fog gave the place a creepy vibe. Simon raised his camera and readied the shot.

*SNAP*

Simon then knelt down on one knee to get another shot at a lower angle.

*SNAP*

Getting back to his feet, Simon looked at the pictures he just took. Not to toot his own horn, but they looked pretty good. They captured the creepy, yet nostalgic feeling he wanted.

That's when the whistling began.

Perhaps it was just the wind playing tricks. A park with as macabre a reputation as this one had a tendency to play on your imagination, make you see or hear things that aren't really there.

But after a while, there was no mistaking that noise: Someone was whistling a tune.

Someone nearby.

A figure in the mist, casually leaning against an old tree.

Were they there the entire time, or had they only just arrived? It was impossible to tell, their silhouette barely visible within the tree's shroud, made all the more indiscernible by the thick fog that enveloped them.

Eventually, the whistling stopped. The figure slowly pulled something out of their pocket: a small handle-shaped object.

There was a click, as something thin extended from the handle.

Oh shit.

If whoever was over there pulled out a knife, Simon better get the hell out of here. He’d heard this park was used as a hiding spot for petty criminals. They were probably some thug planning on mugging Simon for money.

Simon used his camera to get a closer look at the person. He turned on his flash and took a photo. As the camera snapped, a bright flash illuminated the area.

“I don’t want any trouble!,” shouted Simon.

Suddenly, a flash of light. The figure's shadowy form was finally illuminated...

At first glance, the object in their hand certainly looked like a switchblade. Quite intentionally so. Only, instead of a blade it was a metal comb that protruded from the handle, one that was currently being used to tidy up the figure's magnificent pompadour.

((Johnny Benowitz continued from Blowing Off Steam))

"Gah!" Johnny exclaimed, reaching up to rub his eyes after that bright flash. "Dude?!"

“Oh! Sorry!,” Simon said.

Simon realized that this person was a student from his school. He recognized that pompadour hairstyle. It was Johnny Benowitz. Pretty popular guy from what he’d heard. Simon didn’t know much about him since he hung around mostly horror buffs and gamers.

“You okay man?,” asked Simon.

"Yeah, yeah, uuugh... I'll live" groaned Johnny, still rubbing his eyes for a few seconds longer than necessary before shaking his head.

The hell was Simon doing out here in the middle of this spooky-ass park anyway? Sure, the same could be said for himself, but Johnny knew EXACTLY why he was here. The hell was Simon's excuse? Looking for cryptids or something, maybe?

Eh, didn't matter. Johnny sheathed his flip-comb and took a glance at his watch, a disgruntled look on his face. The hell was taking him so long?!

"Say, uh... You seen any sign of-" he began, only for his phone to start playing the intro for Viva Las Vegas. "-nevermind, one sec"

Sure enough, a quick glance at his phone confirmed Johnny's suspicions, pocketing the comb as he accepted the call. "Hey? 'the hell are you dude, I've been waiting out here for nearly an hour now!"

"Yeah? Yeah I'm at the park, just like we said..."

"...LORENZI park? What do you fuckin' mean you're at Lorenzi Park?! I thought we were meeting at Malone Park!"

"God damnit, uuuuh, shit... Right, I'll be there soon-as"

A frustrated groan escaped Johnny's lips, putting his phone away before turning back to Simon. "Well, uh... Good luck hunting bigfoot, or... Like, whatever it is you're up to. Peace"

One token fingergun later, Johnny was swaggering away into the mist from whence he came. Whistling the same tune from earlier as he disappeared into the surrounding fog.

((Johnny Benowitz continued in Life Could Be a Dream))