As Johan stumbled back, he was met with a sight that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. Stretched out before him was an enormous playground, but it was nothing like those from memories of simpler times. The once innocent equipment now stood twisted and grotesque – swings with chains that looked sharp as blades, seesaws that seemed to breathe, and slides that spiraled into dark abysses.
The ground beneath his feet had an unsettling elasticity to it. With every step, it pulsed and recoiled, like the membrane of some vast creature. The very earth seemed to be in alliance with the sinister toddler, throwing off Johan's balance with its unpredictable bounce.
'Why does this feel like some demented dream?' he thought, trying to ground himself amidst the madness. "This isn't a playground," Johan whispered aloud, "It's a trap."
Giggle of Doom:
