
Excerpt
Introduction: Welcome to the Ghost Parks!
Amusement parks are places packed with noise, lights, spinning rides, and the sound of people laughing and screaming—all in a good way. But not all of them stay that way. Some, believe it or not, go completely quiet. Gates close, ticket booths stay empty, and the roller coasters stop rolling. These parks don’t just shut down for the night. They stay closed for good. That’s when they become abandoned.
An abandoned amusement park is one that’s been left behind. No workers. No visitors. No music playing through hidden speakers. It’s as if everyone just walked away and didn’t come back. Sometimes, the rides are still there, standing tall but silent, rusting in the sun and rain. Signs still hang over the entrance. Cotton candy stands sit empty, maybe with a dusty jar still on the counter. The whole place feels frozen in time, like someone hit pause and forgot to press play again.
But these parks didn’t start out that way. They were built to be places of joy and fun. At one point, they were the kind of places families would drive hours to visit. People would wait in long lines for the biggest roller coaster, win stuffed animals at games, and eat way too much ice cream. For years, everything buzzed with energy.
Then something changed.
Sometimes it happened slowly. Fewer people showed up each year. A ride broke and wasn’t fixed. A snack bar shut down. Paint started peeling. Weeds grew where crowds once stood. Eventually, it wasn’t worth keeping the place open anymore. Other times, the end came quickly—a big storm caused too much damage to repair, or a park just ran out of money overnight. One day it was open, the next it wasn’t.
It’s strange to think of a place built for happiness turning into a ghost town. That’s part of what makes these parks so interesting. They’re not just old. They’re forgotten. And when something is forgotten, it starts to change. The bright colors fade. The metal starts to creak. Nature starts to move in. Trees grow where people once waited in line. Birds nest inside the bumper cars. Grass takes over the sidewalks. It’s as if the park is slowly becoming part of the Earth again.
But even when they’re empty, abandoned amusement parks still have stories. Every broken ride, every cracked bench, every silent speaker has a past. Who rode that roller coaster on its first day? What band played on that empty stage? Whose name is carved into that wooden railing? These places are full of mysteries.
And people are curious. When something is locked up and left behind, it sparks questions. What happened? Why did it close? Is it haunted? Okay, maybe not haunted—but when a place sits untouched for years, it starts to feel like it’s keeping secrets.
Some people try to uncover those secrets. They sneak into old parks to take photos or videos. They tiptoe past rusted gates, careful not to make a sound. They explore broken-down rides and empty snack shops. It’s risky, and not exactly safe or legal, but it shows how much people are drawn to these strange, quiet places.
There’s another side to abandoned parks, too. They remind us of how quickly things can change. A place that was once filled with energy and excitement can become empty and silent. A roller coaster that once made kids laugh can turn into a pile of metal no one touches. They make you wonder—how can something so big just disappear from people’s lives?
But maybe that’s why they stick in people’s minds. An abandoned amusement park is more than just an old, broken place. It’s a space full of memories that are no longer being made. It holds onto its past, even when no one’s around to see it. It’s like a whisper of what used to be.
Some towns leave them alone. Others tear them down to build something new. A few parks get a second chance. They’re cleaned up, repaired, and brought back to life. But most of them stay the way they are—slowly falling apart, becoming a part of the landscape, visited only by time, wind, and the occasional raccoon.
Amusement parks are places packed with noise, lights, spinning rides, and the sound of people laughing and screaming—all in a good way. But not all of them stay that way. Some, believe it or not, go completely quiet. Gates close, ticket booths stay empty, and the roller coasters stop rolling. These parks don’t just shut down for the night. They stay closed for good. That’s when they become abandoned.
An abandoned amusement park is one that’s been left behind. No workers. No visitors. No music playing through hidden speakers. It’s as if everyone just walked away and didn’t come back. Sometimes, the rides are still there, standing tall but silent, rusting in the sun and rain. Signs still hang over the entrance. Cotton candy stands sit empty, maybe with a dusty jar still on the counter. The whole place feels frozen in time, like someone hit pause and forgot to press play again.
But these parks didn’t start out that way. They were built to be places of joy and fun. At one point, they were the kind of places families would drive hours to visit. People would wait in long lines for the biggest roller coaster, win stuffed animals at games, and eat way too much ice cream. For years, everything buzzed with energy.
Then something changed.
Sometimes it happened slowly. Fewer people showed up each year. A ride broke and wasn’t fixed. A snack bar shut down. Paint started peeling. Weeds grew where crowds once stood. Eventually, it wasn’t worth keeping the place open anymore. Other times, the end came quickly—a big storm caused too much damage to repair, or a park just ran out of money overnight. One day it was open, the next it wasn’t.
It’s strange to think of a place built for happiness turning into a ghost town. That’s part of what makes these parks so interesting. They’re not just old. They’re forgotten. And when something is forgotten, it starts to change. The bright colors fade. The metal starts to creak. Nature starts to move in. Trees grow where people once waited in line. Birds nest inside the bumper cars. Grass takes over the sidewalks. It’s as if the park is slowly becoming part of the Earth again.
But even when they’re empty, abandoned amusement parks still have stories. Every broken ride, every cracked bench, every silent speaker has a past. Who rode that roller coaster on its first day? What band played on that empty stage? Whose name is carved into that wooden railing? These places are full of mysteries.
And people are curious. When something is locked up and left behind, it sparks questions. What happened? Why did it close? Is it haunted? Okay, maybe not haunted—but when a place sits untouched for years, it starts to feel like it’s keeping secrets.
Some people try to uncover those secrets. They sneak into old parks to take photos or videos. They tiptoe past rusted gates, careful not to make a sound. They explore broken-down rides and empty snack shops. It’s risky, and not exactly safe or legal, but it shows how much people are drawn to these strange, quiet places.
There’s another side to abandoned parks, too. They remind us of how quickly things can change. A place that was once filled with energy and excitement can become empty and silent. A roller coaster that once made kids laugh can turn into a pile of metal no one touches. They make you wonder—how can something so big just disappear from people’s lives?
But maybe that’s why they stick in people’s minds. An abandoned amusement park is more than just an old, broken place. It’s a space full of memories that are no longer being made. It holds onto its past, even when no one’s around to see it. It’s like a whisper of what used to be.
Some towns leave them alone. Others tear them down to build something new. A few parks get a second chance. They’re cleaned up, repaired, and brought back to life. But most of them stay the way they are—slowly falling apart, becoming a part of the landscape, visited only by time, wind, and the occasional raccoon.