Voices From Beyond Volume 1 by J Thorn

Author:J Thorn
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 2011-05-23T14:00:00+00:00

Everyone in Western Pennsylvania has memories of Kennywood Park. Mine range from blissful childhood experiences to primal fear. Every autumn, the park opens on weekends for Fall Fantasy Days, a time when October chills the air, the apple cider, and the plastic seats of the roller coasters. I remember being fascinated by the emptiness of the park and the aroma of an impending winter. This story is dedicated to Ray Bradbury.

* * *

Fall Fantasy Days

The crow cried from atop the plaster giraffe, looking with sorrowful eyes at the dead asphalt footpaths. It dove for the shriveled, half-eaten French fry as Scott ran past the counter, squashing a discarded ketchup packet that splattered red on the wooden siding. He ducked under the frozen turnstile of the Thunderbolt and sprinted up the ramp towards the loading platform. The sweet autumn breeze tugged at Scott’s Pittsburgh Pirates cap and rustled the golden leaves of the oak centurion hanging over the coaster’s control house. Sticks of chewing gum slid from his pocket along with a nickel and a stub of a number two pencil.

He heard her again.

Scott slid off the platform and onto the track. He winced, expecting the thrill ride to come to life and send a car thundering down the track to crush him. He thought of his mom’s warning about getting too close to the edge.

Stay behind the yellow line, she would say as though she had already lost a son in a freak roller coaster accident.

He wiped a tear from one eye and walked down the middle of the track towards the first steep incline. Scott thought about the countless times he had prepared for the drop. The car would clink ahead until the chain pulled it up the hill with even, jerked movements. He remembered the nervous smile of anticipation and the low mumblings of the adults behind him. They said the same thing every time, always trying to convince a child that it was “just a ride.”

Yeah, some ride, Scott thought.

The tinny, static-filled voice burst through the amusement park’s intercom system, shaking Scott from his reflection. The music came to life through the ancient copper strung when steel was king. “Pop Goes the Weasel” played in lumpy rolls, as if the little fingers cranking the jack-in-the-box could not quite get the handle to turn evenly.

She’s here and she’s coming for me.

Scott crawled under the track and dropped two feet into the browning weeds of October. His feet disturbed the crinkly leaves, kicking up the pungent aroma of autumn. He ran along the rusted chain-link fence until the shadow of the Potato Patch protected him from the retiring sun. When the leaves settled, Scott closed his eyes and inhaled the faint ghosts of fresh-cut fries and cotton candy. He licked his lips and tasted the sweet and sour tang of candy apples. His tongue lashed out to catch the phantom candy sprinkle sticking to his bottom lip.

“You gotta tell Mom, dumbo. She’s gonna wanna know how I fell.”

Terry’s voice ran through his body like an electrical current.

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