Black Treacle Magazine (March/April 2013, Issue 2)
or
sadistic. Carl wasn’t sadistic, he may have been crazy, but he
wasn’t that crazy. No, Carl wasn’t behind this letter, but someone
was, someone out there was playing some kind of strange game with
him.
    He felt a
slight tingling sensation fall over his arm as if the light were
changing in his cell. At first it was something he barely noticed.
He continued to brood, continued to stare at the letter, continued
to wonder who was behind it until off in the distance he heard the
sound of music, music he recognized, music anyone would recognize
as the kind that accompanied a Ferris wheel or a roller coaster, or
just about any ride in an amusement park.
    He heard the
distinct and clear winding sound of amusement park music.
    Taylor was a
rational man, he knew that wasn’t possible, yet even stranger, he
could smell fresh air as if he were outside, and then the most
impossible thing followed; he felt a breeze hit his face. He
couldn’t remember the last time he felt an honest to God breeze.
His body didn’t know how to react; to run for his life or to cheer
his imminent freedom.
    Then suddenly
the light completed its change and Taylor found himself surrounded
by darkness. It was night. He was outside somewhere, somehow in the
night air. The music became louder and the bright lights of a
Ferris wheel sped past him close as if one of the cars were about
to sideswipe him.
    He lunged and
rolled across what he knew was grass- real grass. The light from
the wheel raced across the ground. Taylor watched it flash over his
legs. His eyes shot up and he saw a roller coaster, a merry go
round, booths with stuffed animals, dolls, clocks. He saw tents,
all varieties of rides he remembered from his childhood spinning
and lurching-The Round Up, Tea Cups…Lights speeding against the
night, and the sounds of bells, of whistles, and the insane toy
music.
    He was smack
dab inside some kind of amusement park. He didn’t know if he should
stay on the ground and hide, or get up and take a look around; none
if it was possible, none of it.
    The sound of a
bell from a High striker rang through his ears. He looked up and
saw the back of a man in an overcoat taking another swing with the
mallet, and next to him in a shiny blue suit wearing a glittering
top hat Taylor saw a carnie barker man grinning. His teeth white as
sharks, the barker called out through a megaphone pointing to the
ground where Taylor was hiding, as the man in the overcoat pounding
the mallet hit the bell, “That’s right, Taylor you are a winner!
The brass ring! The grand prize! You, Taylor Mackey are no longer
the unluckiest son of a bitch in the world, you have a chance now!
One chance! Can you change that day? I know you can, Taylor!”
    As the
barker’s words ended the music began to spin out of control. Taylor
covered his ears and cried. Dear god, where the hell was he?
    “Make the
music stop! Please!” He raised his fists, rolling on the ground as
if the force of his movements would slow everything down, but of
course it didn’t. The music became louder, and more strained.
    He pulled
himself from the grass. He had to make a run for it; to where he
had no idea. He had no idea where he was, or if he was anywhere.
Maybe that was it? Maybe they took him to the gas chamber and this
was hell? There was no time to think. Everything was going too
fast- the lights, the cars, the bells, his heart.
    He was a
winner of what? You can’t live days over. You can’t change the
past. You can’t put a genie back in a bottle no matter how hard you
try, Taylor repeated in his head as he began to run.
    Then the
barker called again, tipping his shiny hat towards the sky, “We’ll
slow things down a little, Taylor, don’t go anywhere. Come here you
have a prize to claim, a past to change, a boy’s life to save!”
    Taylor got a
closer look at the barker. All that glitters is not gold, his skin
was jaundiced and his white shark teeth were green around the
edges, but his eyes glowed,

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