They continued along the crumbling path, which widened and was now edged by a low stone wall. The tall pine trees blocked out the sun, casting the whole area in deep shade. Some trees had fallen on the wall, others had dropped heavy limbs across the pathway.
Kevyn brushed away dead leaves with the toe of his boot. “Look, this is the old track. We’re close.” He broke into a sprint along the path and disappeared down a winding set of crumbling stairs. The sun sunk lower, touching the tree line. As Cory followed, she made a quick calculation of how long it took them to get here and how long it would take to get back to the hole in the fence. If they could find it again in the dark, that is. At the bottom of the stairs, Kevyn ran ahead and called for her to hurry up.
“What are those?” Cory moved closer to get a better look at the round, large structures sitting in a row. “They look like teacups.”
Kevyn raised his camera, twisting the lens to find the exact light. “Get in one. I’ll take a shot.”
Cory walked up to the second enormous teacup sitting in a row with its chipped twins. The sides of the cup came up to about her middle, and each one sat on a thick disk—its own saucer. On the opposite side of the handle was a small opening to allow people to step inside. Cory heard the whir of the film advance, the only sound interrupting the silence of the woods. The floor of the cup was littered with a thick layer of pine needles.
“It was a ride,” Kevyn explained. “Pulled by a tea kettle. There, it’s still there!” He pointed to a spouted kettle at the head of the row. “It took you underground to Alice in Wonderland’s tunnel.”
Cory prodded at the pine needles with the toe of her boot to reveal a small red shoe. A doll’s shoe, dropped by some kid years ago. The teacups and kettle stood in a line, stretching into the deep shade of the pine trees. A bird called overhead.
“It’s so sad. It’s like they stopped for the last time, everyone got off, and they’ve been waiting here ever since for the next load of people to come for a ride. Like the whole place has been put under a spell—waiting for people to come back. And they never will.” Her words were rushed. “And everything is getting old and rotting and swallowed up by vines.” She glanced around, searching for one thing that would prove her wrong.
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