"This was my park"

This park was my park. It was my haunt, it was my home. I would lurk and wait. I ran all over it and I knew every inch of it. I ran past the trees, the grass banks and the large lake. Victims were easy to find.

Such easy prey it was no longer fun. Those who crossed me may find themselves thrown to the ground. Crashed into a tree. Sometimes I would send my victims flying into the cold murky depths of the lake. Splashing and squarking for help. That was funny.

I didn't just send them into the lake. It was equally fun to send them flying into trees or into the grass sides. I would lie in wait for unsuspecting victims. When they took a wrong turn, BANG !! I would send them flying. Most of the time they would land heavily. Those lucky enough to avoid the full extent of my wrath would at least limp home in painful agony.

But, dear reader, I was never always so mean or so callous. When I first came to the park, I was young and full of colour. Everything was new. It was a happy time. It was a lovely time and everyone loved me. However the evil hand of time took its toll and I became worn out, exhausted. My edges became frayed, my soul became pot holed, my sides became jiggered.

A cyclist was flying down the park. Not a care in the world.

“That is mad “ the rider said as he swerved to narrowly avoid my side.

It is not my fault I am built this way, I thought. They should be more careful. How dare they complain ? It makes me so angry I see red mist.

I lay there under the bright hot sun. A clear day always brings out people on their bicycles especially in this part of the park. If it was not just cyclists, Joggers too would run over me. How dare they I thought. It was funny when they would topple over as they tripped over me.

The council were well aware of me. Yet they did nothing to help me. I was crying out for help and no help came. One day I would kill someone and it would not be my fault. If society didn’t care then why should I care ?

That time was coming soon. Who would be my first murder victim ? A little old lady perhaps, they were easy to kill. Maybe I would go for one of those strapping muscular athletes, all muscle and no brains. It would be a challenge but what is life without a challenge.

I can picture the headlines in the newspaper next day.

“Athlete murdered by cycle path”