Short Fiction

To Fear Death

Published in Print in the DSTL Aurtistic Zine Vol. 4

“Who goes to a theme park alone?” 

My sister had teased me incessantly after I announced I was heading to Legend Amusement Park over the weekend. She eventually shut up after she realized what my intentions were.

I had woken up in my car the morning of, shivering in the predawn chill that had snuck its fingers into my Jetta. The backseat was a slightly more uncomfortable bed to my cot in my mom’s basement. I couldn’t help but miss Alyssa’s cozy mattress as I knocked my head on the roof trying to stretch. There was a lot more I could miss, but I shut down the thoughts with fingernails biting into my arm before they could start. 

It was Fall finally, and the soft sunrays caressed my cheeks through my windshield as I changed my shirt, which I had worn for way too long. I could barely bring myself to care, but just for the thought of my fellow adrenaline seekers having to sit next to me won my brain over. I lay in my car, staring at the ceiling and thinking in a veg-like state. A few hours slipped by. 

My alarm went off that the park would open in ten minutes, and I stumbled out of my car and was met with the abrasive sounds of hundreds of voices. Children of all shapes and sizes were dodging through the rows of cars like a high-speed police chase, trailed behind by subservient sullen parents. I slinked into my row, interrupting the flow of a large family of gingers, who rolled their eyes and scoffed in my direction. I was oblivious and built up my defenses as I pulled up my hood and my hands sunk low into my hoodie pockets. 

I merged into the sea of people, pulled along by the storm, a solitary loner in the divisions of families, friends, and couples. I averted my eyes quickly each time I spotted a fresh-faced couple, the twinkle of cupcake love glimmering out of every orifice. I sighed too loud, and a young mother turned to scowl at me and hauled her kid to another gate. What? Was I gonna poison her child with an ounce of negativity?

I slowly trailed through the lines and examined the exterior of the park. It was designed poorly, siphoning the congestion of people through three different gates. The gates were overshadowed by three circus tents, painted a trite peeling lime and neon pink. The smell of sweat and deep-fried food snaked out of the park. My ticket was stamped by a middle-aged man who raised an eyebrow when he realized I was clearly alone. 

I wandered through lanes of colorful boutiques and carnival games, battered by waves of manufactured smells and aggressive ads.

"Buy 3 Roller Ride Shirts, Get the Fourth Free!"

"Get the Season Pass for Unlimited Happiness and Excitement!"

"Don't Forget the Souvenir Package on Your Way Home! Now Just $59.99"

Alyssa would have loved this. She would be chattering away, fingers flying as she pointed from one excitement to the next. She would want to wait for hours in the lines for the highest rides, and make friends with everyone in the lines around us. 

I wandered into a corner outlet, filled to the brim with plushies. I ran my hands along the rainbow of soft fur lining the bursting shelves. I felt eyes on me, and turned. The counter attendant was eyeing me, an eyebrow raised while she reclined her bar stool dangerously, leaning against the wall. She was hardly one to judge me. She had the same red curly hair as Alyssa. I realized I had been staring for too long as she frowned. I slunk out of store, knowing I looked like a lost child about to start crying for his mom. More like crying for my ex-girlfriend. I started to question my reasoning for coming here.

I told my sister that I wanted to feel something again, some sort of sensation other than emptiness. I wanted to be scared for my life. For the rush of fear in my gut. So logically I thought of my fear of heights. But I had lost my will to subject myself to an hour of standing for two minutes of fear. 

I snagged a map from a kiosk, having decided I would at least ride one thing to make the $60 bucks marginally worthwhile. I spotted my target immediately. In the far corner of the map, depicted as a 2D pole reaching off the map were the TWISTED SWINGS. I read the description on the back. 

“Want to know what it's like to fly? Come ride the TWISTED SWINGS and soar 300 feet in the air on this wind-defying attraction!”

A rush of wind slithered by my feet and snatched the map out of my hands, sending it on a collision course with a Dad lecturing his forlorn son. I quickly turned heel and walked in the direction of the swings which I spotted rising high above the kiddy coasters and twisted blue metal of the new attraction nearby. I floated like a ghost through the throngs of happy-go-lucky mid-american families. I wasn’t looking for it, but I saw a bit of my old self in every smiling face I passed. I stared at the ground instead. 

The line for the TWISTED SWINGS was only fifteen minutes, as I suppose the majority of the population shared my phobia of irrational heights. I spent the time staring at the sky, which was painted in contorted hues of yellow and greens. Cloud tracks had formed and the wind was yelling through the park. But the line progressed, so I guessed that the weather was going to defuse any minute. I followed a teenage pair of middle school twins through the gates of the swing ride, passed the raven mascot who cawed an automated, 

“Have a good flight!” 

I was assigned seat 13 by a bored-looking boy who couldn’t have been older than 17. He had one earbud in and I could hear obnoxious rock and roll as I passed him. I wondered when they started letting babies operate dangerous machinery. The wind tousled my hair as I located my seat, and climbed into it, latching myself in and pulling down the safety bar. 

The kid made his rounds around the ride and tapped my safety bar as he cruised by. 

The raven’s voice echoed with a metallic caw from the ride’s speakers. 

“Are you ready to soar? Everyone make sure your safety bar is secured. No mobile devices or cameras are allowed on this ride. Enjoy your ride.”

The seat jolted beneath me as the bird cawed one last time. I listened to the gears crank and the engine whir. I watched my feet as the bare concrete retreated further and further from them. When the swings started to spin, I finally looked up. 

My heart plummeted in my chest. The sky was endless, stretching in all directions with it’s haze of sickening green and yellow streaks. The wind was howling at this height, and tore it’s fingers through my hair, yanking my hood back. I looked down to see the park spinning far, far below. 

I screamed, relishing in the feeling of fear electrifying my veins. 

The spinning lasted what must have been two minutes. The last rotation came to a sudden halt. My legs jerked forward from their hanging position, nearly bashing the seat in front of me. 

I heard murmurs of annoyed voices below the wind. The wind was powerful, and the metal bars holding the seats were straining against the pull. I ignored all of it, and closed my eyes to live in the moment of fear for my life. The feeling of emotion strong in my chest dazzled my memory. I needed to remember how this felt. 

The moment drew on too long, and I opened my eyes. 

The ride was not supposed to be this long. I dashed a glance down to the operating station below, but all I could distinguish was the cherry red of the roof. The clouds were congealing into an angry mass above us. 

I wanted to go back down. The moment was over, I didn’t need any more fear. 

The wind strengthened, and my seat rocked to the side, and this time, I screamed in real terror. 

“Let us down!” I yelled as hard as I could.

My voice was joined by the muted screams of my fellow swing riders. 

The hairs on the back of my neck prickled. There was a force building in the air. It was invisible but tangible, and I tasted metal on my tongue. Lightning flashed through a nearby cloud, and the thunder shook the safety bar of my metal trap. My ears rang. 

This couldn’t get any worse, I had thought. 

That was when a winning burst of wind shot through the sky and my eyes had trained to my left, the compartment about ten or so in front of my rattled and shook. In the space of a heartbeat, it shook off the rack of the swings.

It fell.