The Last Ride

Connie - June 3

The Ferris wheel watches us. I swear it does. 

It has been there far longer than we have, rusting, creaking, but never spinning. Just watching. It looms over the trees as if it were waiting for something. I look at it with anticipation, wondering what it knows that we don’t. 

Jake was the first to see the amusement park. We’d been venturing through the woods behind my grandparent’s house - following the same shortcut we took since third grade. He was ahead of us - as always - so by the time we caught up, we saw him just standing there. Staring. He looked as if he’d seen a ghost. 

At first, I didn’t believe it. I swore it was a joke. A forgotten amusement park in the middle of the woods? We’ve walked through here for years - how could we have just seen it?  No one ever mentioned it before. There were no signs, warnings, nothing. There were rows and rows of empty stalls, a broken carousel, and that frozen Ferris wheel stuck against the sky. 

Jake was so succumbed by the sight. He didn’t laugh, he didn’t even bat an eye. He just whispered something under his breath: “It’s real”. What that means, I don’t know, but I do know we should’ve turned back then. 

Milo - June 5

Nothing makes sense. 

I don’t understand how you could just lose an entire amusement park. I mean, we’ve lived here our whole lives, spent hours in the woods, and we’re just discovering this now? I also don’t get why Jake is acting all strange. He hasn’t talked much, but when he does, its typically about the park. He keeps asking us if we “remember it”. 

We don’t. 

We would have noticed the giant wheel. Climbed over the fence. Dared each other to sit on the old, sketchy seats. We would have seen it before. But we hadn’t and we didn’t do those things. 

Jake insists that we just forgot - that’s not how memory works. 

Kameron - June 10

I hate how Jake looks at this place. 

Everything comes back to that stupid wheel and the park it’s in. 

Jake is like our glue, the bond fusing us together. Yes, our friend group has experienced its trials - but who hasn’t. Even after Milo and I broke up sophomore year and the whole group was torn apart, Jake was there to remind us of the bigger picture. But now, he doesn’t care if we fight anymore. He just doesn’t care at all. 

We no longer talk about college in the fall or our plans for the summer, just that stupid amusement park. Everything, everything circles back to it. The park. The ferris wheel. 

Archie - June 10

It was stupid of us to follow him in. 

It was even worse up close. The smell of the old oil, the kind that seeps into the ground and never washes away. The way the ticket booth’s window is broken but the glass isn’t shattered outside the frame. The way the carousel horses don’t just look old, but tired. And how you can still hear the roller coasters whirling amidst the silence. 

Jake swears he can picture the lights, the people, and the music. I watched as he stood at the entrance. Through his eyes, everything came to life. The way he looks at it, staring, as if he were to only look at it longer, the whole place would come back to life. 

And the worst part? 

Somehow, someway, I think he may be right. 

Jake - June 12

The park is awakening. I can feel it. 

It all started with the carousel. When we first snuck in, the metal was all rusted, the wood had rotted, and the paint was chipped - that's all we saw it as, a heap of junk. But when we came back yesterday, the poles weren’t as rusted. The colors weren’t as faded. And today, the horses had new saddles. 

Milo thinks I’m just imagining these things. Connie claims that we just didn’t notice them before. But they’re wrong. I know something’s different. And I think they can feel it too. 

I can’t figure out why, but I’m not scared. It almost feels like I belong here. 

Connie - June 14

To be honest, it was fun - at first. 

We climbed the coaster tracks and watched as Kameron and Milo nearly fell off trying to one-up each other. When we reached the control booth, we found some peeling labels which read “THRILL MODE” and “STOP”. Kameron and I joked about stapping the boys in and putting the ride into full speed. 

The five of us explored the prize booth still full with stuffed animals, only now they were covered in layers of dust and their fur was left stiff and spiritless. Kameron went to grab one, but dropped it soon after creating a cloud of dust to rise from the ground. She said it was warm, almost as if someone had just held it before her. That was impossible - we were the only ones there. But we just laughed it off, thinking Kameron was messing with us (we were the only ones there). 

None of us touched them after that. 

Milo - June 17

 That mirror maze captivated us for way too long. 

It was one of those winding, endless hallways, filled with sharp corners and flashing lights overhead. At first, we had loads of fun with it - making faces, scaring one another, it was a pure escape from the stress of the months to come. But after a while, something shifted. The reflections were getting funky and odd - and not in the cool, warped, mirror maze type of way. I mean really odd. 

The mirrors themselves were all cracked, smudged, and hazy - but not the way you would expect from old glass. Some didn’t reflect us at all and others showed more than ourselves. 

Jake was amazed by the mirrors and the last to leave the maze. I watched as he looked so deeply into the mirror, almost as if he were looking for something - something beyond himself. 

Archie - June 20 

The park doesn’t want us to leave. 

Tonight, we found an old game booth with bottles all lined up in a perfect triangle and baseballs beside it. Milo took a ball and threw it at the bottles - a line drive for the tip of the triangle - but the glass didn’t break, none of them even moved. 

It felt as if the whole park was holding its breath. 

Then the ferris wheel cracked. Just one groaning shift, turning metal on metal. It was the same sound a ride makes when it is just starting up. 

Everyone ran. Even Jake. 

Kameron - June 22 

Jake went back alone last night. 

I woke up thanks to Connie’s 3 AM text stating that he hadn’t been answering his phone.

 Milo found him right outside the entrance in a sort of haze. He was completely encapsulated by it. This park has done something to him. It changed him. The way he was looking at it made it seem like he was still there, in the park. But he wasn’t. 

 When we asked him where he had been or what he was doing, he responded by stating that he “remembered now”. That’s all. No further information. 

 We all looked at each other with tired eyes full of worry and fear. 

Connie - June 23

After last night, I don’t know what to believe. But I do know that there’s something more to this park, I just don’t know what. 

Jake insists that there is a Fortune Teller’s and he won’t stop talking about it. But none of us had seen it before, we thought we had investigated every part of the amusement park. He swears it was always there. That it has answers. And that we need to find it. 

Answers to what? I don’t know. But I don’t think we have a choice. 

The park isn’t done with us. 

Milo - June 25

We shouldn’t have gone back. But we did. And now, I don’t think we can leave. 

Jake led us straight to the Fortune Teller’s tent, ducking under the ripped fabric and pulling back the curtains as if he’d been there a thousand times. Inside the tent, the dust was thick like fog, we watched as it swirled around the tent and once we swatted it away, it uncovered a table with tarot cards perfectly displayed on top. As directed by Jake, we each sat on pillows which formed a crescent shape around the circle table - leaving one, prominent seat empty. But for who? 

This whole time, we were the only ones who knew of the park. We were the only people who ever went in or out of the park - so who was this dark, mysterious person that just walked in the room? I don’t know. The room was still so thick with fog that I couldn’t tell them out. 

But we were aware of their presence. 

Kameron - June 26 

I don’t know what happened. None of us really do. 

One moment, we were all sitting there, frozen. Confused, slightly amazed, but mostly scared. Then the room shifted. The tent seemed to stretch, then the walls curled on themselves, swallowing us whole. 

Then Jake stepped forward, unfazed. He was so assure, as if he had done this before, and demanded “Where is he?”. 

Where is who? What are we doing here? Why did we ever go back to this creepy park? Why can’t we stay away? Why does it want us? Why do we want it? 

Then, a voice came forward from the shadows: “Right where you left him”. 

I have no idea what that means. I have no idea why we are here. But Jake does. 

Archie - June 27

Looking back, the mirrors weren’t broken. They were showing us the truth. 

We all ran when the tent collapsed, all but Jake. When we turned back, he wasn’t with us. We found him back at the mirror maze, staring in front of the mirror as he did before. This time, however, something was different. He had his hand up, pressing it against the glass. He was standing completely still, but his reflection reached out at him. 

Milo grabbed his arm. We all yelled. There was a flicker in the lights. 

We watched as the glass rippled. Jake was gone. 

Connie - June 30

We searched for days. The park seemed bigger now - there was more depth, more uncertainty, more anger. It didn’t want us to leave. But I think it didn't want Jake to leave. 

The ferris wheel still watches. Like an eerie reminder of what happened and a constant warning of what could happen. 

As I walk endlessly through the park, I swear I can see a shadow. Maybe it’s Jake. Maybe it’s his Dad. Perhaps it’s both. 

I don’t know. I don’t think we’ll ever know. Now we just sit here, waiting, and watching. Like that stupid ferris wheel.