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Music echoed of of the empty rides of the old fairground. A sad soft erie sound. Only one games booth still stood. A smiling person waved welcomingly with a cold smile. "Come here" they whisper in an ancient voice. "I don't bite" they continue to say. For some reason you don't trust that, and turn to leave. You run out of the park and stop at the gate to catch your breath. You turn expecting them to be shambling after you, but the booth was gone. The music drifts off with the wind, and suddenly feeling nauseous, you pick up your bike and go home.