Ferris Wheel

THE FERRIS WHEEL
by:
Rachel McClard

The Ferris Wheel stood out in the middle of an overgrown field with a picket fence holding it in and white dandelions interspersed through the sea of green. Thick, enboldened weeds reached up from the ground and took hold of it, mixing in with the rust, paint, wooden seats and metal hinges held together desperately by loose, old and tired bolts.

Originally called the Chicago Wheel, the first such ride was created for the 1893 World's Columbian Exposition in Chicago. Later all structures like the Chicago Wheel would be called "Ferris Wheel's" based on the designer, George Washington Gale Ferris, Jr.

The Wheel in the abandoned farmland looks out on the world from atop a broken dream. It was created for fun, amusement, children to laugh, kisses to be made, hands to hold, hearts to lift and stomachs to fall. Now the majority of the ride can't even move, its wings held down and legs buried within the land of the forgotten. Three of the carts at the top have not been reached by the hungry leaves and vines that slowly make their way upwards, reaching for the sky - trying to defy all that is known of gravity.

Those three carts await the day when they will not be able to feel the wind on their face. When they will be paralyzed, the sun beams no longer warming their hearts.

But not today. Today the moon went down and the sun came up and they awoke to those rays bursting through their metal apendages like a beacon in the cold and mist filled night. A hope of what will come today. What will?

Today they will not look to tomorrow when they will no longer enjoy the sights, hear the birds, breathe freely.

Yesterday was good. Today better. Tomorrow is tomorrow and we know not what that will be.

They speak to each other freely.
Cart #1 "Enjoy it."
Cart #2 "Thank you. I will."
Cart #3 "The air is good up here."

THE END.