Tonight was another gathering of our writers group, and another opportunity to read things we've written. Last week we were handed slips of paper with a photograph of an old Ferris wheel, and some prompting questions. We were then told to write whatever we wanted from there. My one-page fictional account, that I read for the group, seemed to have gone over well. Or at least I thought it was well-received enough that I feel like sharing it here also. So without further ado (and only a photo of Adorable Agnes to accompany it), here it is.
The Wheel In the Sky
I had the dream again last night. I was looking at a wheel in
the sky, spinning slowly, creaking along rusty gears and moaning hydraulics. I
was far away from it, watching this unidentified beast from a great distance,
until I wasn’t. I was standing at the base of it, without any memory of how I
got so close. I didn’t know what the wheel was, until suddenly I did. I was
reaching for the door of an old Ferris wheel gondola, and I could feel myself
ducking my head as I climbed inside. The gondola was Spartan in its
construction, just thin sheets of steel with visible rivets forming the
benches, painted in faded colors that hadn’t been popular since the 1960s, and there
was rust on the hinges of the door that closed behind me with a hollow clang.
The windows on each side of the cabin were open to the air, just a single
crossbar to keep children from squirming out, and the latch on the door had no
modern safety features, just a single spring clip holding it closed. I sat in
the middle of the bench, not close to either window, wondering whether my
weight would tip the car if I scooted to the edge. I was alone in the gondola,
until I wasn’t. There were four or five kids in there with me, and I had no
idea whether they were my own or not. I pushed up against one of the windows,
so that two of the young people could share a bench with me, with the others on
the seat across from us. Suddenly the windows were a bigger problem for me.
What if these children started horsing around? What if one pushed another onto
the door, and the clasp broke? It stressed me out, and made my stomach cramp.
Now this ride made me afraid, until it didn’t. A few feet at a time, we moved
backwards and up, backwards and up, each stop so that one car after another
could empty and fill, until we reached the top of the wheel. I looked out at
the tops of trees that were all I could see in any direction. I didn’t see an
amusement park below, just trees and distance. I was disappointed that I
couldn’t see anything, until I wasn’t. I was exhilarated to be so high, to feel
the cooler air blowing above the treetops, to sway gently in the gondola full
of giggling, wrestling children. The wheel kept turning incrementally, until we
were two cars from the ground, and suddenly I wondered, was that it? Did we only
go around once, in fits and starts, and then we were done? I was sad that it
was almost over, until it wasn’t. We didn’t stop when our car crossed over the
hot asphalt pad below. We started to climb again, backwards and up, gaining
speed, cresting through the trees, and floating gently down again, two more
times, then three. I was giddy, wishing that instead of a closed-in gondola, I
was in the kind of Ferris wheel that just had an open bench and a bar across my
lap. I felt free, flying in circles, until I wasn’t. I woke with a start, when
the cat who sleeps on my right side pushed her paw into my nose, and I tried to
move, and found the cat who sleeps on my left was scooted up too close. I was
pinned in the covers, in the gray light before dawn, spending those last few
minutes in bed until I couldn’t. Backwards and up, into clothes, into my car,
back to work. The ride was over.
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