The path towards the park
was covered in chipped blacktop. Weeds
and grass poked through the cracks. The
whole place looked overgrown, like the forest was trying to reclaim the land
the park had stolen.
The closer they got
towards the main fairway, the more Clare wanted to tell everyone to just turn
around. Even though the day was
beautiful, a gray haze seemed to hang over the entire area, like fog that
refused to be burned off by the sun.
The first few buildings
on the fairway became visible. Small
cottages, with white plaster walls and brown trim, lined a cobble stone
path. Placed, almost as if without care,
along the path were chipped, plaster casts of smiling fairy tale characters. A gnome, and elf, an ogre, all with unnatural
smiles on their faces in order to make them appear friendly. They, in reality, only made the creatures
that much more menacing.
In it’s heyday Clare
figured that the park had actually resembled a fairy tale village. She could imagine the fairway, brightly
painted, and bustling with families.
Slowly, over time, that sense of life, and joy, just faded from this
place. By the time she had visited
Fantasy Land, in the late eighties, the joy of the park had almost been
completely diminished.
Through the little alleys
between the cottages, Clare could see the various rides. Most looked like second hand carnival
rejects. A few seemed to be original
though. The fun house, labeled Dungeon
of Doom, actually looked well maintained.
Unlike everything else, the wood carved sign seemed freshly painted, and
the façade in front, a faux-stone wall with a big metal gate, was still in good
shape. The tunnel of love, an oddity in
any modern theme park, still looked near pristine.
Clare was pulled from her
thoughts by the sound of Jean’s voice.
“The park was opened in
1948, by my uncle, Wes Meyers. During
the late twenties, and through the sixties, the Chicago area had a boom of
theme parks. My uncle wanted to create
something for those who couldn’t take the drive down to the city.” Jean glanced from building to building, a
sadness creeping into his voice. “As you
can see, the park has seen better days.
We still maintain a steady business, mostly from the local college.”
As Jean spoke, Max’s
cameraman, who Clare was pretty sure was named Rico, followed along side, doing
his best to capture Jean’s entire story.
“As we approach the end
of the fairway, we are about to come to Fantasy Land’s most famous ride.” Jean stopped short of a long, wooden
dock. “The Elf River Cruise.”
Jean pointed towards a
small elf statue that stood next to the line entrance. He was about three feet tall, with a round
face, and white, fluffy beard. He wore a
white shirt under red suspenders, and to top it all off, a red, pointed
hat.
Clare shivered when she
met the statue’s eyes. It seemed like
the creepy little thing was watching her.
“Who…” Max pointed to the
statue, “is that exactly?”
Jean laughed. “He’s the company mascot, Ujin the Elf.” He patted the statue on it’s head. “The
cruise is a journey through his village.
Along the river we have built small scenes show that various parts of elf
life. Ujin here makes his appearance at
the end up the cruise, at the Elf
Temple.” Jean glanced down at the small
statue. “He guards the temple. His small hut is just off the beach, on the
lake, and he sits outside of it, fishing, and watching the temple to make sure
that no one harms it.”
“The temple,” Clare
finally decided to chime in, “it doesn’t really fit the rest of the park
design. Why exactly did your Uncle build
it the way he did?”
Jean looked at Clare,
seemingly stunned by the question. “Oh,
my uncle didn’t build the temple.” He
glanced down the river. “He found it. It was what inspired him to build Fantasy
Land here.”
“Why would there be an
Aztec style temple built in the middle of the lake, in the Midwest?” Max
glanced from Jean to his camera.
“The tribe that built the
temple is lost.” Jean glanced back down
at Ujin. “Little is known about them, or
their religion. So little, in fact, that
they don’t even have a proper name. The
temple is one of the last signs that they even existed.”
Clare knew exactly where
she needed to be. That temple was going
to be the key to figuring out what had happened to those two missing college
students.
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