I’ve never enjoyed heights.
I’m not scared of them, I’m just a little uncomfortable when I’m not on the ground. She knows that. But, as much as my discomfort was clearly visible, so was the painted figured near the ferris wheel, with his red nose and juggling balls, terrifying the children.
“Is he still there,” she asked, covering her eyes, “I don’t want to look if he’s still there.”
“He’s gone, sweetie,” I fibbed.
She peaked through the gap between her fingers. One glimpse of his painted visage was all the stimulus she needed to quickly avert her gaze.
“But you said he was gone,” she yelled.
I chuckled under my breath. Its the little things.
“Hold me,” she asked.
“You know how much they scare me.”
“Ever since I was a kid.”
“At that birthday party.”
“And his eyes, his eyes…”
“They were the worst part.”
“All weird and bloodshot.”
“Drunk as a fart,” we said in unison.
She peeked through her fingers again.
She shrieked at the sight of him constructing some sort of balloon based monstrosity.
“I can’t look. I can’t”
She squirmed in her seat, shaking the carriage. I clung to the safety rail for dear life. She wouldn’t stop.
“Honey, could you stop,” I pleaded, quietly.
“I can’t look.”
“Please, sweetie, I just…”
“Is he still there? He’s still there, I know it.”
“Will you just stop,” I screamed!
I pushed her away to the other side with force.
Just then, I felt the shudder as the wheel came to an unceremonious halt.
She stared at me in shock, tears in her eyes.
This was going to be a long night.