The Final Ride

By Leela Ganguly

I entered the gate, the dim lights flickering around me and colorful banners hanging from large signs. Kids were shouting happily, sticky messes dribbling down their shirts. Roller coasters sped down tracks, suspended in midair for seconds. Venders cried out for customers and purchasers responded by overwhelming the tents. Families desperately tried to find each other in the large crowds. Music played and people danced, blocking paths and separating parties. The crowd parted as I made my way through. I stepped up, strapping myself into the seat. Moments later, my eyes were tightly shut as the roller coaster barreled towards a steep drop. I felt my stomach drop and the ride fell downwards. I leaned forward, the force of the ride pushing me. Suddenly, I was thrown backwards against the seat and felt the cold plastic press against my back. The roller coaster had stopped and we were left upside down. I instinctively grabbed hold of the cart I was strapped into, but I was too late. The belt had slipped free and I was falling, wind rushing past my ears and screams echoing around me. I couldn’t breathe. I tried to shriek, but nothing came out. Gentle thuds sounded around me. Then, everything faded to darkness.

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