Forgotten Landscapes

Crimson Concrete

The wind blew around him as he wiped his wet hands on dirty jeans. He stood silently in the forgotten landscape, the only movement being that of the swings, swaying in the wind. His camera shuttered, capturing the scene laid before him, preserving it forever. As he walked amongst the wasteland, tingles ran down his spine alerting him of another's presence. The only thing nearby, however, was a red and black clad clown-like statue, standing outside the House of Horrors. The statue towered menacingly over his head, swords and knives strapped to and stuck into his body. He clicked away at the eerily familiar face, and proceeded onwards.
He climbed to the top of the old Ferris Wheel and raised the camera to his eyes. As he peered through the lens, he froze, as if in shock. Laid before him was a vast collection of skyscrapers and twinkling lights. His ears twitched, hearing phantom cries for help amongst the city sounds. Lowering his camera, he was met with the same barren landscape as before. Shaking his head, he raised the camera once again, and photographed the crimson speckled ground below.
Another tingle ran down his spine. He brushed it off, this time blaming the cold, and climbed back to the ground. Taking a step forward he was halted in his tracks by a weight on his shoulder. He whirled around, heart racing, and grabbed the gloved hand set on his shoulder. Bones crunched beneath his fingers, as he looked into the others face. The face was covered, though, and he quickly realized the statue from before hadn't actually been a statue.
Looking into the white eyes of the clown, something clicked in his head. "Wa-"  he started, but by then it was too late. A sword had already plunged through his chest. He gasped in shock, before dropping to the ground and being enveloped by darkness
The man stood still above the body responsible for all the others lying around. "I'm so sorry, Peter."