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There's this place called Swanson Field. I haven't been up there for a while. Well, more than a while, probably years. I drive past it all the time, but this time for some reason or another, I stopped. I remember back when I was a kid, people always said the field was haunted, though personally I don't believe in ghosts, but it's got enough people spooked to catch my attention.
The weird thing is, it's just a field. No abandoned house or strange structures or anything. As I look around all I can see is the damp swampiness of the field. The only reason I really remember it is that when I was kid we would go there every halloween night. It's funny that I'm only remembering this right now.
All the kids in school would work on masks the day before Halloween. We used to call it Mischief Day, making the masks and getting ready for the walk through Swanson Field the next day. I would always work hard on my mask, making it look really cool. The teachers would always put this sort of strange diamond thing on the forehead of the mask. That always ruined the look of my mask. The star thing made it look, well, lame.
We never went trick-or-treating; we always just went with our parents to Swanson Field and walked through it. But we were never allowed to talk about the field, let alone walk through it other than on Halloween night. My parents and the other kids parents never looked down at us when we were walking, no matter how much we made a fool of our selves or pestered them. We never made eye contact, and there was a rule that we could not take our masks off until our parents said we could.
There were also these people that moved out in the woods instead of inside the field. I could never recognize them from my town. When I saw them, they were people, but they didn't move like people; they moved like deer. It was a sort of like swooping up and down into the shadows of the trees, but they walked on two legs. They had great costumes; almost looked real. The costumes were completely black with mouths on the back, front, top, and sides of the head. The reason I could see the mouths were that they were more of a greyish hue, instead of black, like the rest of the body.
It's funny; I could never remember how the night ever ended. I always woke up in my bed, and the last thing I could remember was taking off the mask or leaving the field. I probably just fell asleep and my parents brought me home.
Then, nobody ever brought it up again. Grownups would get mad if you talked about the ghosts of kids in the field. Hell, I even remember a kid being sent to detention for drawing the little diamond thing on the foreheads of the mask. I remember feeling annoyed: if they hated the thing so much, why did they make us wear it; always ruining my mask?
Before Christmas break, the teacher would tell us a story about Swanson Field. They would tell it when the sun was setting really, really early. The story was that people could hear the voices of kids in the field. I never really knew why they did it, but nobody ever asked. It was a few days before Christmas, so I had no reason to think about that. The teacher always said that Swanson Field was a special place, but you should never go there alone. And this is the first time I have been back on this field for almost 12 years. It's strange, I mean, I don't hear anything. Do you?