Hush, Little Baby…

A sense of tranquility encased the park, embracing the quietude of the overcast day. The playground, during the summer months so filled with the laughter of children, now stood in near solitude. The sparse scattering of leaves, adorned in the rich hues of late autumn, embarked on a whimsical dance across the grassy expanse, propelled by the brisk and capricious wind.
In the corner, the aged merry-go-round, covered in a coat of rust, groaned to life, its movement echoing through the quiet surroundings. An empty swing, bereft of the joyful giggles that so often accompanied its motion, swayed hesitantly, producing a haunting whine with each oscillation. The atmosphere, tinged with an unspoken melancholy, retained the remnants of youthful joy, albeit now faded into a poignant stillness. 
All these things went unnoticed by the man, a somewhat portly figure with thinning hair, the subtle nuances of the park's desolation unfolding around him. Oblivious to the vacant merry-go-round and the empty sandpit, he was engrossed in the simple act of pushing the swing that cradled his precious young girl. The little girl, donned in a pink coat adorned with a profusion of colorful flowers, swung steadily back and forth, caught in a melody woven by his lullaby. His gentle song resonated in the crisp air, carried away by the wind that swept through the quiet expanse of the deserted park. The man, lost in the rhythm of his ‘paternal’ duty, remained blissfully unaware of the tender echoes of solitude that surrounded their seemingly intimate moment. 
‘‘Hush, little baby, don’t say a word, daddy’s gonna buy you a mockingbird.’’ 
Just then, in a haunting juxtaposition to the tranquil scene playing out before them, a single newspaper page, carried by a gust of wind, pirouetted through the air, eventually coming to rest on the ground at the man’s feet. The headline that graced the front page carried an emotional plea: "Bring Claire home." The image accompanying the plea portrayed a young girl, Claire, mirroring the age and appearance of the girl on the swing, adorned as she was in a pink coat embellished with a myriad of vibrant flowers. 
The man noticed the newspaper page, meeting the paper’s headline with cold eyes and a sadistic smile. The serenity of the park was then shattered, as the front of Claire's coat became stained with blood. The thread sown to hold Claire’s lips shut stretched under the strain. Blood then flowed from the needle holes as the skin tore and the thread ripped. 
Her scream would be heard by nobody other than her captor.
Category:Disappearances