Blue Bear

October 11, 2012
As I stand before the desolate carnival site, one thought courses through my mind- don’t get caught. Of course, this is not a problem. I know that. This is my job- I was sent to investigate. The whole place was surrounded by barbed wire, but that doesn’t have to be an issue. I toss a thick, blue woolen blanket over the prickly hands of the fence, and with ease, scale the wall with the effortlessness of someone who had done this millions of times. I lands gingerly on both feet, knees bent, ready to spring like a cat at the sight of yarn. A light wind dances along my neck, lifting my thin hair up like fingers, grasping at the wind. Rain pitter-patters on the tin roof of the snack shop and pools at my feet, turning the tan dirt into sloshing mud. I amble along the depressed path, soaking in every seemingly insignificant detail. My breath makes small, miniature clouds just like the ones above, threatening thunder. I have to be out of here-fast. Everything on the path stands out in a special way- like the tiny, child sized footprints that dot the landscape, followed by large, adult sized ones that run erratically throughout the length of the winding road. Taking this as a clue, I follow them.
The prints lead to the roller coaster. I soak in the terrifying intensity- vines had practically swallowed it, wrapping their long leafy tendrils around and gobbling it whole. A shudder courses through my body as she surveys the scene. The footprints veer off to the right, leading to a fallen plank of forgotten wood. A flash of blue from beneath catches my eye light a beacon light guiding a lost sailor away from the rocky shore. When I approach it, the little footprints disappear- as if inexplicably plucked from the air. The large ones continue, as far as I can tell, to the fence 100 yards away. I reach for the blue cloth, hoping it could be the shred of a sleeve that might have a fingerprint or DNA left. Instead, what I find is insignificant. It is a sky blue teddy bear, with criss-crossed eyes and a goofy, out of place smile that seems so far away from the abandoned commercial wasteland. I kneel down, grabbing the bear. Maybe another girl would find this moment almost heart-wrenching; to find a kidnapped child’s plaything, lying here, abandoned. I find it useless. It’s not like it can help me solve anything. The rough, sharp gravel digs into my bare knees, drawing blood. The bear has one word carefully stitched across it’s chest: Robby.

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