Ophelia sat

Ophelia sat at her window every day watching the squirrel that lived in the big oak tree in front of Happy Hearts, Helping Hands. She watched it scurry down the trunk and scamper across to the large sign that anchored the square building.
The squirrel's routine was as important as her own. If he did not come out and move across the sign, then she refused to go to lunch. If he did not collect nuts from the ground, then she would not see her therapist. The orderlies knew this. Her doctor knew this. Her roommate knew it, too.

One day, as she sat waiting for the squirrel to appear, she overheard some attendants in the hallway.
"It's time to get her for lunch," the male said, impatiently.
"She won't come yet. The squirrel supreme hasn't come out of hiding," the female replied sarcastically.
Ophelia didn't care much for those two. Although, to be fair, she didn't care much for any of them. So impatient, so tied to time and schedules. Why not be tied to something real, something tangible, she thought.
"You know it's supposed to snow next week," he remarked. "What's gonna happen then?"
"What do you mean?" she said.
"Don't squirrels hibernate or something? That little guy's not gonna be collecting nuts and running around when it's freezing."
Ophelia felt her heart tighten for just a second and the blood rush to her temple. She took a big breath and quickly recovered. It really wasn't her problem. They would have to figure it out. Isn't that what they were paid to do?
Her eyes darted as she watched the squirrel run out from the canopy of the tree, down the trunk and across to the sign.
She sighed with relief and rose from her chair. She thought it was about time he came out. She was getting hungry, after all.

Behind the Tilt-A-Whirl

Behind the tilt-a-whirl lay a door in the ground, not unlike a storm shelter door. It was carefully hidden by tall grass, and was further concealed by a woven mat of straw masking the metal hinges and door handle. From a distance, a casual observer would easily miss it. Although, even if it weren't hidden, few were brave enough to wander behind the ride. No sane person would try to sneak by Gerry Lucer, the biggest, ugliest, man anyone had ever seen, who also happened to operate the ride. Not that being ugly was a sin, but Gerry was also mean. So mean that the story was that the last person who snooped around down there was picked up by the neck, thrown down through the door in the ground, and never seen again. The police were told about it, but when they investigated and opened the door, all they found was dirt on the other side. Most of us kids weren't fooled though. Why have a door that didn't lead anywhere?

One night a few of us were out there after hours, just fooling around. It was a dark night with no moon or stars shining. We walked by the tilt-a-whirl, and honest to God, we saw a bright light shooting out from the corners of the door. As if that wasn't enough to scare us, we also heard loud music playing and the voices of two people screaming. We ran from there as fast as we could. We told the adults that were supposed to know what to do, but once again, when the police went out to investigate, all they found was a door that opened to dirt.

No one ever did believe us, but it was the truth. After that summer, the carnival moved on to another city. We never saw Gerry Lucer again. We also never found the door in the ground again. It just disappeared with all the rides and games and people.