Joyland

Chapter 1

Joyland, weird name huh? It sounds like a set location for a one star horror movie. To most people even the name itself would be enough to put someone off visiting, but it's advertisement team definitely earns their pay check. From what I remember the adverts for the place state that 'Joyland the most wondrous place on earth! Fun for all the family since nineteen seventy eight, so come one, come all to are fantastical world of joy!' Doesn't that sound fun!

The truth is Joyland's advertisement is a lie. If Joyland wrote the truth maybe it would sound like 'Welcome to Joyland! A world of fun until an inevitable 'accident' occurs while you're trying to have fun (Notice if an accident was too occur Joyland representatives would do their very best to cover the incident up) sincerely Joyland's owner Mr T Oswald' how's that for the truth.

My name is Nathaniel 'Nathan' Richards, and I'm a private detective hired to investigate a string of incidents at the amusement park known as Joyland since the 1970's.

Mystery has surrounded Joyland since then due to the multiple accidents that have occurred on the premises. Now under normal circumstances these cases would be taken on by the police but the mystery only develops when you look into the owner Mister Trevor Oswald. When an accident occurs, Trevor Oswald does his very best to cover the accident up. He does this by using any number of colourful methods, including but not limited to; paying off victims families and park staff, rebuilding over crime scenes, lying to park staff, manipulating park staff and using his connections with the police to mislead and even halt investigations. In conclusion Mister Oswald the owner of Joyland is known widely for covering up a string of accidents that have taken place on the premises. Other than that Mister Oswald is a mysterious man, his past prior to the park establishment in nineteen seventy eight is practically a mystery. Making Mister Oswald a sixty five year old man with an enigma of a life.

To begin my investigation I decided to talk to former park employees to find out any other information on the park that wasn't online. The first ex-employee I found was Paul Eccleston the interview went as follows:

I arrived at Mister Eccleston's home at one thirty eight p.m. on the second of July, twenty twelve. I approached the man's home and pressed the doorbell, within seconds the door swung open to reveal a man about five feet two inches in height with receding brown hairline (starting to become grey) and pale skin rounded off with an overhanging belly.

The man introduced himself as Mister Paul Eccleston and greeted me with a "hell-hello you must be detective Richards." I replied with a simple nod of the head and a 'yes', with that he invited me in and I entered his home, he led me into a small living room containing a small heavily worn leather couch which sat ajar from a small television sat below a closed curtain window. The most striking feature of the room was the crowded clutter that consumed the room.

I sat down on the Mister Eccelston's worn leather couch as he locked the front door and started to pace up an down the room. I sat there waiting for the man to calm down and stop pacing, but after five tedious minutes of silent pacing I broke the crippling silence with, "Mister Eccleston so what information do you have on Joyland?"

With that Mister Eccleston proceeded to explain his connection to Joyland. "Well back in two thousand and ten during the summer I took a job at Joyland. But from the day I started working there the protocols were strange."

I replied with "strange? How was taking a summer job strange?"

Mister Eccleston replied "upon signing the contract I was informed about the protocols and rules that needed to be followed incase an 'incident' occurred." In an instant I knew what Mister Eccleston was talking about.

I responded quickly, "you're talking about the multitude of accidents that happen frequently on Joyland's property, can you elaborate on the protocols and rules?"

Mister Eccleston seemed startled at first but he quickly gathered what very little composure he had and continued, "I-I was just getting to that. My employers told about an incident report that had to be filled out when an accident occurred." Once Mister Eccleston finished his sentence I noticed he started to rub the joints of his hands which was strange because of my prior research Mister Eccleston he was only thirty-eight, so it seemed unusual for a man his age to suffer from any age related joint problem. That was until I noticed the scaring on his hands that led up his wrist.

Next I asked him "ar-are you in pain Mister Eccleston?" Instead of responding his eyes looked with mine, his eyes glaring with a sudden seriousness that was masked with fear. Eventually his fear melted into a weary and tired frown of disdain as we both became silent.

Mister Eccleston broke the silence with, "well once I had to fill out an incident report, and that incident was what caused this," As he said that he raised both of his hands clarifying that the hand scars happened while he worked at Joyland.

I then hesitantly asked, "how did the scaring happen, exactly?"

Mister Eccleston replied shyly and slowly, "okay if it will help your investigation. It was on the twenty third of July in two thousand and eleven, it was a scorching day and I was working on the Merry-go-round. A perfect day to go to the beach or the local park. But on this particular day fate or chance decided to play a cruel trick, it was about two p.m. and the ride was completely full as every seat contained a gleeful child. Everything was running smoothly until a there was loud crunch or a crack echoed from the ride as the merry-go-round screeched to a painful halt. Many of the kids exclaimed in an annoyed disdain. So to try to fix the problem I called up the park maintenance staff and notified them of the problem — as was mandatory for staff who had no experience with repairing park rides. So I spent the next fifteen minutes getting children off the ride and trying to calm the impatient parents concerned about things like 'Are you not trying to fix the ride?' But eventually Steve from maintenance arrived to fix the ride. Within about ten minutes I heard Steve shout 'I've found you're problem' he said as he pulled out a small, bloodied, mangled form of a pitch black cat. The mere sight of that poor animal being removed so carelessly made me heave. Thankfully I managed to hold back any vomit, but after Steve removed the animal and messed around in the rides mechanisms for about five minutes the merry-go-round sprung back to life to the gleeful cheers of many excited children."

At this point I had started to lose interest in Mister Eccleston's morbid story of a very unfortunate black cat. Even so I decided it would be rude to interrupt his story so I let Mister Eccleston continue speaking, "as I started to seat the impatient and ecstatic children and as the ride spun around and round in an hypnotic spiral of vibrant colours and dancing riders seats— but as the ride spun to a gentle stop to refill passengers one spot stuck out to me. It was one singular coloured bulb that was for some reason not powered." After he said this my interest peeked, but not at his story rather at his hands as they started to subtlety spasm. A spasm he seemingly had no control over.

Even so Mister Eccleston continued his story even though I could now see the strain it was taking on him. "Every time the ride spun round that one broken light stuck out as though that one imperfection stood out because it ruined the entire ride. So as the time went on and the amount of riders decreased something had convinced me to 'fix' the bulb. Even though deep within my mind I knew it was dangerous I proceeded anyway, and as my hands touched—" suddenly Mister Eccleston's hands started to shake erratically. Mister Eccleston reached into his trouser pocket and retrieved a packet of small pills and swallowed about three of them before slumping into a long silence. 

Eventually, I managed to brake the silence by saying, "if you don't want to continue Mister Eccleston I can leave if you wish?"

At that Mister Eccleston snapped back from his lonesome silence and gathered his composure. "No. no it's fine, it's just remembering that brutal moment of searing pain and the smell...oh god the smell of burning flesh as the electricity was roasting the skin on my hands!" As Mister Eccleston remembered this obviously traumatic memory I started to feel empathetic towards Mister Eccleston's pain to the point where I could imagine the pungent smell of burning flesh.

Finally, my mind snapped back to reality of Mister Eccleston's cruel fate being his own memories and his own scars, and not my own. But one thing lingered in my mind, I started to question how did Mister Eccleston's accident relate too Joyland being at fault?

Instead of thinking of the question I decided to ask him. "How do you believe your accident was Joyland's fault and not just random chance?"

He replied with "I don't really know for sure, but it's just the felling I got when I was about to touch the bulb. The feeling was- was a strange feeling of compulsion."