Our cities are full of hidden areas, places that only older people remember.
Some are ruined, full of trash and left to rot.
Others remain as they always have been, metaphorically frozen in time.
Others literally so.
One such place was through a long series of narrow alleyways (as old cities are wont to have).
If you asked the right person in the right café they would take you near to it.
All other attempts leave you in circles, unable to get there no matter what turns you take.
Nobody knows if anyone has ever made it to this place, they never seem to return.
The last couple to go there carried a large camera with them, determined to capture the place.
All they wanted was proof of its existence - the rumoured "Parque Congelada" or "frozen park".
They'd asked a man named Bartolome who had allegedly guided tourists there before.
He was plied with most of their cash to wait until they returned, they wanted to take precaution.
It was a relief to have Bartolome with them, the paths looked too similar to their new eyes.
They seemed to head downhill for most of the trip which was strange as the city was mainly flat.
Their guide explained that the city was built on many layers, the oldest parts were still in use.
Some areas, like the one they were heading to, were in disuse though due to the... unique layout.
He wouldn't explain this further, said they would understand when they arrived.
Coming to a halt Bartolome declared this was as far as he was willing to go, even with their money.
The Congelada was through the left path and right at the house with icicles on the right window.
Their questions were met with pointing hands as the old man sat on nearby steps to wait.
With no further response the couple began to follow his directions.
The air in the path seemed different somehow, like it had a taste they couldn't put words to.
It was longer and steeper than the others, they had to grip the houses' windowsills and almost slide.
As they reached the bottom they tasted something almost metallic in the air, sharp and crisp.
Looking around for the "house with icicles on the right window" they found it with ease.
As they approached it and the footpath beside it the air temperature diminished rapidly.
They found themselves wishing they had worn thick coats, despite the previously humid climate.
The further they walked down this cold, narrow path the more ice had formed on the houses around.
Caught up in their filming they almost didn't notice the icy metal gate before them.
It was frozen solid, wouldn't budge an inch until the young man kicked it down entirely.
The sight of the park before them, literally frozen in time, took their breath away.
It was hard to tell at first but they soon realised that they were not alone.
Once it had been a popular place to bring young children, the high house walls around it felt safe.
As the couple looked closely at the swing-sets they saw that the children had never left.
They were encased in ice (mostly opaque but clear in patches) and laughing at unheard jokes.
Wandering around the couple saw more and more people - men, women and children of all ages.
All trapped in whatever they had been doing at the moment this place froze.
The couple decided their first call of action would be to find the source.
They started at the outside and worked their way towards the opposite end, going left to right.
Despite the frigid temperatures they had covered almost half of the park, filming all the while.
And then he slipped and fell on the icy ground, his head hitting a perfectly preserved pram.
His partner gasped, unable to comprehend what they saw as the man began bleeding and freezing.
Within seconds he was the same as the others.
His face laughing and eyes unseeing.
The other ran for the gate falling over just before they could reach it.
Hitting the ground with a painful thud they looked behind to see what they had tripped on.
One of the frozen children (who had previously been eating an ice-cream) was standing behind him.
Their leg was now outstretched and their face was turned towards the fallen person.
The ice that had covered their head opaquely was now clear as glass.
The child was smiling.
The child blinked.
The child moved.
Bartolome waited until sunset before heading towards the police station.
He would tell them that the Congelada had been fed for the time being.
They would deliver charred remains to the tourists' home country and pray for forgiveness.
And the cycle would continue until someone forgot.
Another never ending cycle.
Frozen in repetition.
Some are ruined, full of trash and left to rot.
Others remain as they always have been, metaphorically frozen in time.
Others literally so.
One such place was through a long series of narrow alleyways (as old cities are wont to have).
If you asked the right person in the right café they would take you near to it.
All other attempts leave you in circles, unable to get there no matter what turns you take.
Nobody knows if anyone has ever made it to this place, they never seem to return.
The last couple to go there carried a large camera with them, determined to capture the place.
All they wanted was proof of its existence - the rumoured "Parque Congelada" or "frozen park".
They'd asked a man named Bartolome who had allegedly guided tourists there before.
He was plied with most of their cash to wait until they returned, they wanted to take precaution.
It was a relief to have Bartolome with them, the paths looked too similar to their new eyes.
They seemed to head downhill for most of the trip which was strange as the city was mainly flat.
Their guide explained that the city was built on many layers, the oldest parts were still in use.
Some areas, like the one they were heading to, were in disuse though due to the... unique layout.
He wouldn't explain this further, said they would understand when they arrived.
Coming to a halt Bartolome declared this was as far as he was willing to go, even with their money.
The Congelada was through the left path and right at the house with icicles on the right window.
Their questions were met with pointing hands as the old man sat on nearby steps to wait.
With no further response the couple began to follow his directions.
The air in the path seemed different somehow, like it had a taste they couldn't put words to.
It was longer and steeper than the others, they had to grip the houses' windowsills and almost slide.
As they reached the bottom they tasted something almost metallic in the air, sharp and crisp.
Looking around for the "house with icicles on the right window" they found it with ease.
As they approached it and the footpath beside it the air temperature diminished rapidly.
They found themselves wishing they had worn thick coats, despite the previously humid climate.
The further they walked down this cold, narrow path the more ice had formed on the houses around.
Caught up in their filming they almost didn't notice the icy metal gate before them.
It was frozen solid, wouldn't budge an inch until the young man kicked it down entirely.
The sight of the park before them, literally frozen in time, took their breath away.
It was hard to tell at first but they soon realised that they were not alone.
Once it had been a popular place to bring young children, the high house walls around it felt safe.
As the couple looked closely at the swing-sets they saw that the children had never left.
They were encased in ice (mostly opaque but clear in patches) and laughing at unheard jokes.
Wandering around the couple saw more and more people - men, women and children of all ages.
All trapped in whatever they had been doing at the moment this place froze.
The couple decided their first call of action would be to find the source.
They started at the outside and worked their way towards the opposite end, going left to right.
Despite the frigid temperatures they had covered almost half of the park, filming all the while.
And then he slipped and fell on the icy ground, his head hitting a perfectly preserved pram.
His partner gasped, unable to comprehend what they saw as the man began bleeding and freezing.
Within seconds he was the same as the others.
His face laughing and eyes unseeing.
The other ran for the gate falling over just before they could reach it.
Hitting the ground with a painful thud they looked behind to see what they had tripped on.
One of the frozen children (who had previously been eating an ice-cream) was standing behind him.
Their leg was now outstretched and their face was turned towards the fallen person.
The ice that had covered their head opaquely was now clear as glass.
The child was smiling.
The child blinked.
The child moved.
Bartolome waited until sunset before heading towards the police station.
He would tell them that the Congelada had been fed for the time being.
They would deliver charred remains to the tourists' home country and pray for forgiveness.
And the cycle would continue until someone forgot.
Another never ending cycle.
Frozen in repetition.
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