🛝 The Lion Slide

Oli and Craig sat on the wall outside Burgon’s News, the newsagents at the edge of Gildeen park, eating crisps. 

“You ever hear the story about the lion slide?” said Craig, through mouthfuls of Ready Salted.

“Hasn’t everybody?” said Oli. “Used to freak me out. But then I grew up.”

The lion slide in Gildeen park had become legend.

The big fibreglass cat lounged atop a green metal tunnel with its four legs spread out over the edges. Its tail was the ladder and its giant pink tongue functioned as the slide, lolling out of its yawning mouth on to the soft playground surface below. 

It had seemed to appear overnight, replacing the traditional climbing frame and slide apparatus that dominated Gildeen Park for years. Everything else was the same: the elephant on the spring that cut your thigh when you sat on it, the roundabout that barely moved anymore, and the swings with chunks missing from the seats. But the lion looked out of place. Brand new. Shiny. Safe. Friendly. 

That was the scariest thing about it. It invited kids in. The big goofy eyes, the dopey expression. Cartoons had taught children that animals with a face like that were slow moving, stupid, easily tricked. Bugs Bunny would have made short work of it. Thirty seconds into the episode, the lion would be holding a bomb painted to look like an apple, and BOOM, soot blackened face and mane half burnt off.

Parents would send their toddlers into the big lion head and minutes later there would be screaming. The parents would rush in, pulling out their bloodied kids, blaming it on insects, wildlife, or other kids.

Parents didn’t blame it on the lion. How could they? That would mean believing it was something more than a slide.

But the children knew better. They always do. It wasn’t long before every kid in the area heard about it and gave it a wide berth.

“Remember Jason?” said Craig. “How he never came back to school?”

“Didn’t he move to Torquay?” said Oli.

“His parents did. They couldn’t stand being here. Not after what happened. Jason had been in detention, see? So when he left school, it was already pitch black, and for some reason the idiot decided to take a shortcut through the park.”

“Yeah, so?”

“He never came out the other side.” Craig threw his crisp packet in the bin. “What do you think of that?”

“One,” said Oli, “people get abducted all the time, and two, if he never came out the other side, how do you know he went in in the first place?”

“Ella D’Mario saw him go in. She was picking up milk from Burgon’s and, get this,” Craig was getting more animated now, “when she came out, she heard a scream and something she said sounded like an animal crunching on bones.”

“And Ella D’Mario knows what an animal crunching bones sounds like? She lives on an estate in the middle of England, not the plains of Africa.”

“She’s seen a David Attenborough documentary, ain’t she? Anyway, if you’re so sure, why don’t you go through there tonight? I’ll text Ella, yeah? We can all go.”

“No,” said Oli. “I’m not doing that.”

“Scared?” said Craig. “Little scaredy boy, are you?”

“Yes,” said Oli, “yes, I am. But not because of some story about a kid-eating slide. Like I said, I’ve seen the news. People go missing from parks at night all the time. Besides, I’ve got homework to do.”

But Oli found himself back at Burgon’s News that night and when he got there, Craig and Ella were waiting.

“Knew he’d come,” said Craig, extending his palm to Ella. “You owe me a fiver.”

Ella counted out five pound coins into Craig’s waiting hand.

“I’m just picking up some fags for my mum,” said Oli. At thirteen years old, he shouldn’t have been able to buy them, but Mr Burgon was a family friend. “I’m not going in there.” 

“Come on, Oli, it’ll be fun,” said Ella.

Later, Oli would tell his mum that it wasn’t peer pressure that convinced him to go in, but of course it was. One friend he could resist, but two? And one a pretty girl? He was only human.

“Okay, I’ll do it,” said Oli. “But we’re in and out. No hanging around just to prove we’re not scared. We’re all scared, no matter what either of you say.” He turned to Ella. “And if you even slightly believe what you told Craig, you definitely should be.”

“Of course I’m scared,” said Ella, “that’s what makes it fun.”

“Okay. In and out,” agreed Craig. Ella nodded. “Everybody got their phones?”

Oli and Ella held up their little black Nokias. 

“Whack on the torch, and we go in,” said Craig, pushing a few buttons on his to make the pathetic beam of light that passed as a torch come on. “First sign of trouble, we run. I mean, even if the lion’s alive, how fast can it move if it’s made of metal?”

“Fibreglass,” corrected Oli. “Fibreglass is lighter.”

“Whatever. What do you say? We’ll be safe from anything with three of us. Plus, if there’s any weirdos, we can call the police. Okay?”

“Okay. But in and out,” said Oli.

“In and out,” said Ella.

“In and out,” agreed Craig. Then they stepped on to the grass.

As they walked through the park they struggled to see more than a few inches in front of them. The moon was barely visible through thick clouds and, as they got further in, the lamps from the street were useless. The phone torches were weak and only cut spaghetti strand thin beams of light into the inky black. Ella’s was faulty and flickered on and off rapidly. Most of the park was grass, and it had been raining earlier, so as they walked their feet squelched in near perfect unison.

Then there it was. Dopey eyes shining in the torchlight, raindrops glistening on the sightless pupils, the open mouth and lolling tongue frozen in place. Just like normal.

“See?” said Oli. “Nothing. Now let’s get out of here before some park weirdo turns up.”

“Give it a minute,” said Craig, his phone’s pathetic torch scanning the lion like a prison searchlight, as if he was willing it to move.

Oli looked at his phone until 8:45 clicked over to 8:46. “That’s a minute. In and out you said. Time to out.”

“Yeah, come on, Craig,” said Ella. “I don’t like it anymore.”

For a moment, Oli thought Craig wasn’t listening. Ella and Oli lowered their torches, leaving Craig’s sole beam shining at the lion’s face. It was then that Oli thought, just for a fraction of a fraction of a second, that one of its pupils contracted and there was drool on the tongue. A fresh shiny rivulet of saliva too large to be a rain drop, making its way down to the ground. 

But then it was gone.

If it was ever there.

“Let’s go,” said Craig, then, to Ella. “You didn’t see Jason at all, did you?”

Ella looked insulted. “I did. I saw him walk off in this direction, then I heard a scream and crunching. I mean, traffic was bad that night, so it was faint, but I could swear…”

Oli and Craig looked at each other, laughed and then started leaving.

Ella trotted alongside them. “Okay, don’t believe me, but I know what I heard.”

They squelched back out towards Burgon’s News. Three pairs of feet in almost perfect unison. 

Then, after a minute or so, five or six more started ambling behind them. It was hard to be sure how many, as it was if something big and cumbersome was struggling to coordinate its limbs.

Squelch, squelch, SQUELCH, squelch, SQUELCH, SQUELCH.

Oli, Craig, and Ella sped up a little, refusing to turn around to see what it was.

There was heavy breathing and what sounded like a roar—if lions roared with their tongues out. At one point, god help him, Oli swore he felt the tongue on his calf. He wanted to turn around to see, but he kept looking forward, eyes fixed on the lights of the street and Burgon’s News in the distance. Ella’s torch cut out and they were left with two tiny beams carving a glistening path in front of them. If they could just make it to the street, something told him they’d be safe. The park was the lion’s territory, and a lion didn’t leave its territory.

But then one of the beams cut an arc in the grass. Craig. He’d turned around to look. Now Oli wanted to turn around more than ever, see what Craig was seeing, but Ella grabbed his wrist and, god damn it, they ran—Oli’s little low beam torch drawing shapes in the air like sparklers on bonfire night as they stumbled across the uneven ground.

Finally, they hit pavement.

Ella was bent over, breathing hard. Oli was crying. A motorbike sped past, the roar of the engine almost drowning out the scream.

But then it was quiet. No more traffic. Not another soul on the street.

Oli and Ella stood there under the neon sign of Burgon’s News, listening to what could only be described as the crunching of bones.