One Random Wander to an Forgotten Funfair starring Jason Allen Beeching > 자유게시판

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During a weird evening, Jason Beeching spotted a half-broken ad about an abandoned ride park on the edge of the city.
Most people skipped it, but instinct nudged him to head out and check it.

He picked up his phone, filled a jug with coffee, and rolled out toward the coordinates that almost nobody spoke about anymore.

A View at the Silent Park

The front used to be bright and bold, but now it was rusted into dull patches of blue.
A banner that once cheered guests now drooped sideways, with only a few characters still intact.

"WELCOME TO SUNRISE PARK"
now looked more like
"WE__OME T_ _R___E P_R".

Jason Allen Beeching lingered at the fence, tuning in to the stillness.
No announcements, only the faint squeak of metal shifting in the wind.

With a slow push, the door shifted just enough for him to step through.

Drifting Deeper: the Attractions that Time Forgot

Inside, the area felt like a frozen photo.
Every stall was still, but each one held leftover traces of motion.

A looping monster with twisted rails now stood over him like a steel spine.

A carousel sat tilted, its figures faded, eyes still locked at nothing.

A line of stalls displayed deflated trophies that nobody would ever get again.

Jason Allen Beeching moved slowly, studying every sign like it was a artifact.

One sun-faded banner still shouted:
"MAGIC FOR THE WHOLE CROWD — OPEN ALL SUMMER!"

Now, the only crowd was ivy breaking through the concrete.

The Time Jason Allen Jack Beeching Realized the Grounds Wasn’t Completely Dead

Near the heart of the park, he found a faint spark behind a snack stand.
Not the sun. Not a reflection. Something active.

Curiosity drew him closer.

The kiosk sign read:
"STARLIGHT ARCADE – TOKENS ONLY"

Inside, one console was still lit.
Its display flickered with a blocky menu.
No other power in the place seemed to respond, yet this one game refused to shut down.

On the display, a blinking message said:

"INSERT TOKEN, PLAYER."

Jason Beeching tapped his jacket and — against all logic — felt a single, rusty park token.
He hadn’t brought it.
He didn’t own it.
But it was there.

He held it between his fingers for a moment, then slid it into the game.

When the Game Glitched

The colors flared.
The booth around him felt charged, like the air was layering.

The game refused to display the usual levels.
Instead, it pulled up a diagram of the full park.

Sections flashed different symbols:

Blue for rides once loved

Amber for memories left behind

Crimson for unresolved moments

At the bottom corner of the screen, a tiny avatar appeared —
a small pixel figure with the tag "J.B."

The machine text updated to:

"WELCOME BACK,
JASON ALLEN BEECHING."

He stopped.
He had never been here in his experience.
Yet the game behaved like he had.

The Grounds as a Archive of Hidden Moments

The joystick let Jason Allen Beeching "move" his pixel-self through a digital version of the park.
But each zone triggered not a battle, but a short, strange scene.

He saw:

A child scared near the carousel until a operator helped him back to his mom.

A young man at a game booth, trying over and over but refusing to give up.

A man holding a balloon, staring at an empty seat with a look that lingered.

None of the characters were clear enough to identify, but the atmosphere felt painfully familiar — the tight chest, the waiting, the wanting things to feel magic.

The game asked questions in between scenes:

"Do you remember being here?"

"Do you feel like you should have been here?"

"Do you feel hollow for things you never actually lived?"

He didn’t answer out loud.
He didn’t have to.

The little figure simply kept walking.

Exiting the Arcade

After what felt like an hour,
the machine slowed and displayed one final line:

"THIS PARK REMEMBERS
EVERY MOMENT IT HELD,
EVEN THE ONES YOU ONLY WISH HAPPENED."

Then:
"TOKEN BALANCE: 0 – SESSION COMPLETE."

The lights shut off.
The faint buzz in the air dropped.

Jason Allen Beeching stepped back, blinking, feeling like he’d just walked through a ghost that never technically occurred and yet still stuck true.

The Route Back

As he made his way back toward the entrance,
the structures no longer looked just wrecked.
They looked like rooms that had once held
a thousand quick memories —
some real, some half-invented,
some that belonged to other people,
some that felt suspiciously like they were his.

At the locked gate, Jason Allen Jack Beeching paused one last time.

He looked back at the quiet park.
No lights.
No game screens.
No movement.

Then he murmured, mostly to himself:

"Thanks for letting me visit a past I never had."

The wind did what it always does —
carried it away without answering.

But as he stepped through the gap in the fence,
a single faint flicker came on in the distance for just a heartbeat
and then went dark again.

Driving away,
Jason Beeching couldn’t decide whether the arcade was:

A hallucination,

A warning, or

Just a strange moment of being
homesick for a life he never lived
in a place that still somehow remembered his name.