Short Stories and Memiors

Cyclone (A memior)

At first, I was scared. I didn’t want to go on the eighty foot-high, seventy year-old roller coaster that was under maintenance every time I visited Lakeside Amusement Park, but this could be my only chance at it for years.

^^^

August 8th. The day my family and I always go to Lakeside  was almost over, and here I was, shaking in my shoes in the light of the Cyclone Tower. Finally, I had the chance to try the big roller coaster, to grow up. I usually only rode the small kiddie rides. Now, standing in line for the Cyclone, I almost ran away from the chance.

At last, the train of carts came to a stop and the people got off. Some were smiling, but others looked sick, only making me more scared. As the workers loaded the next batch of riders, I realized that there would be room enough for me and my family this round. By now, my legs were shaking more than ever. One foot stepped into the cart, and then the other. The cold of the metal seat could be felt through my thin, fabric shorts. My fidgeting hands grabbed my glasses and handed them to my mom who was sitting beside me. With a lurch, the roller coaster started.

It glided through a dark tunnel that seemed to engulf everything that entered it. The tunnel’s concrete walls were cruel, and unforgiving. Eventually, the tunnel came to an end, and I saw in front of me an ivory colored track going up, up, up, that could mean only one thing: the big climb was here. I clenched my eyes shut.

The smoothie I consumed earlier sat in my stomach like a heavy rock, threatening to come up through my mouth. Smells of funnel cake wafted up from below, only making me feel more sick. I smiled feebly at my mom; she smiled back, confident.

The carts moved up slowly, jerking bit by bit as they climbed to the top. Every time the train of seats rose a few inches, the suspense inside of me built. When at last I couldn’t stand it any longer, I opened my eyes and stared in pure terror at the ground, eighty feet below.

Ant-sized people stood in long lines waiting for various rides. The night sky was illuminated by the full moon and lights from other roller coasters I was too scared to try, like the Wild Chipmunk, the Hurricane, and the Tilt-a-Whirl. At this height, felt as if I could stare down at the whole of Earth, and I marveled at its beauty.

Suddenly, I heard screams of joy as the front of the line went over the edge. My heart lept into my throat as the cart I was in followed. I closed my eyes and clenched the bar holding me down, as we dropped, it seemed, vertically to the ground.

The rest of the ride was easy, swooping over the tracks and winding in circles. Air rushed past my face. I laughed aloud, trying to figure out what I had been so scared about. At last, the carts skidded through the tunnel and skimmed to a stop, right where we started. The Cyclone was over.

I got off, my legs unsteady, but my eyes shining. I had loved the suspense of the climb, the thrill of the top, and the joy of the rest. The world swirled around me, and I nearly fell over. Luckily, my sister grabbed my hand and led me to the exit. I looked up at her and smiled innocently,

“Can we go again?”