The Ferris Wheel – Flash Fiction


I sat wedged between Mama and Ray. My feet dangled.

We’d come to Virginia Beach like a family. It was nighttime, and carnival lights pulled me in.

“Can we ride?”

Three tickets later, we soared in a salty wind. Happy people laughed and screamed. City lights were our magic carpet.

The carriage stopped at the very top. Ray leaned forward, tipping us, rocking us.

I inhaled, looking up to him, eyes wide.

“Don’t be scared,” he said, tightening a hand on my shoulder. I’ve got you.”

Off to our right, there was a whistle, then a loud boom, and a million sparkles lit up the night.


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