It was cold. The pale sun was bright but it did little to dissipate the cold that knifed through my exposed skin. Usually, my mom planned zoo days for the middle of summer and I would almost melt like a popsicle, but not today. No, she wanted to give me a surprise for my eighth birthday, which, consequently, was at the end of October. I shoved on a pair of gloves. The wind whipped right through my clothes. Yes, I was going to suffer more than usual today.
My parka swish-swished as I walked toward the ticket booths. I stuffed my gloved hands into the parka’s pockets and listened to the crunch of my Rocky boots as I walked on chunks of asphalt from the beat-up blacktop of the near-deserted parking-lot.
I reached the tickets booths and my mom paid my fare, after which she quickly passed through revolving gate. I continued on, hoping to be quick enough catch up with my mom on the other side of the turnstiles. I pushed my way through the cold, metallic barrier and stopped at the gate that yawned open like the grave. It sported hippopotami and lions that were grinning from ear-to-ear in a way that seemed almost too eager for me to enter, almost as if I was their next victim. It is Halloween after all, I thought before hurrying through after my mom. When I passed underneath the smiling servants of Satan, I could almost hear their hysterical laughter filled with sadistic glee.
The walkway was a pattern of gray, ashen stones that here or there had a print of various animal tracks that lead deeper into the zoo. Hmm. All lead in, none lead out. Betcha they’re hiding something. Maybe the gift shop is a front. I walked out onto a plaza. The shrubbery and flower gardens were lifeless and gray, with their dead leaves strewn about underneath them. I met up with my mom and waited for her to lead to wherever she wanted to go.
“Do you want to go to the gift shop?”
No. That was the last thing I wanted to do. I wanted to bolt but I shrugged instead. I looked at the brightly colored building, displaying the same mocking creatures as the gateway. I watched kids walk in and kids trudge out with their faces horribly disfigured into the likenesses of animals. They look happy, I thought, it must have been too traumatic for them to cope with it.
A lone, sickly-looking tree stood in the middle of the plaza, with its branches seeming to reach for me, seemingly in an attempt to capture me. It was darker now. It’s not dusk, it’s noon, I thought, looking to the sky. Boiling clouds had blocked out the pale sun and taking with it, the only remaining cheer I had. This day was going to get a lot worse; I could feel it in my bones and hear it in the animals’ distant cries of pain. Man I hate zoos. I hope I survive.
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