“Just one more time,” ten-year-old Ray beckoned to his parents.
“Ray, you’ve already been on the ride five times today already,” his father answered.
“And besides,” his mother added, “we have to get home early. We’re going to see your Aunt Esther in the morning.”
Ray didn’t care much for visits to Aunt Esther. He loved her as much as any ten-year-old boy could love his aunt, but it was no carnival.
“But I haven’t been on it after dark before,” Ray tried reasoning as he dug his heels into the dirt. His father, without looking back at Ray, dragged the boy along leaving two small trenches to literally carve out their path.
As soon as Ray’s mother saw the dust cloud being kicked up by Ray’s stubborn rebellion she grabbed him by the collar. Ray stood up off of his heels and walked, reluctantly, between his mother and father. His jeans were covered in dust, his cheeks sticky with cotton candy and his breath stinking of soda pop and corn dogs.
The adventurous boy looked behind him as he was being led by the wrists from the landmark of Halloween, the only reason to come to the carnival, the famous Hall of Haunts. He preferred the smell of the axel grease on the ride’s rails, the aroma of gunpowder from the fireworks wafting in the air to the mothball and plastic smells of Aunt Esther’s house.
Sure, the house was creepy, but it was far from haunted. It scared children in a different way that goblins and ghosts do, for it reminded them that growing old was inevitable. The creaking of the shutters and peeling paint of the banisters somehow convinced Ray that growing up meant giving up having fun at the carnival. And he was far from ready to make such a great sacrifice.
In his pajamas, Ray sat on his bed the moonlight dancing on his face. His elbows were sore from leaning them against the window sill straining his eyes towards the lights in the distance that were the carnival. He stared hard hoping that if he stared long enough he would wish himself back there. Alas, his last ride would not come tonight as he saw the lights of the carnival shut off. The afterglow burned in the distance like the embers of a dying flame.
“It would’ve been so great at night,” Ray sighed and put his head on his pillow. He closed his eyes and he could see the faces of the specters and ogres in the Hall of Haunts. He had memorized all the faces, all the glowing eyes, the loose green skin and the tight yellow skins. The large goblins and trolls in their places on the ride, the small imps and demons gnawing away at the mechanics of the rides, all appeared in the last ride Ray was taking in his head.
Ray awoke all of a sudden. His eyes were wide open and drawn to the window. Just then, a flash of light brought the carnival back to life. It was as if the lights turned on just for Ray. The lights on the Ferris wheel waved him over from his house. Ray’s jaw dropped as his eyes widened.
“It’s calling for me, I know it!” Ray said to himself as he ran downstairs. He tiptoed and the house creaked behind his ten-year-old footsteps. He looked up at the clock in his dad’s office and saw that the hands of the clock had met at the top of the face. Midnight.
“What kind of carnival is open at midnight?” Ray asked himself. He shrugged it off too eager to have one last ride on the Hall of Haunts. He put on his sneakers and the caps of the shoelaces kicked about eagerly behind him. Ray must’ve grabbed his father’s jacket on the way out. The sleeves were gigantic sliding out farther than his longest fingers could reach, but he didn’t care. How could he care? He was going to have a chance for one last ride.
He came to the entrance of the carnival and was greeted by a tall man in a dark suit that came over him like a cloak made out of the night sky itself. He smiled mischievously at Ray.
“You’re in luck, young man,” the tall man hissed, “Rides are free at midnight for all young boys and girls.” He took off his top hat and gestured towards the carnival. Perhaps hundreds of other children scurried the grounds. Ray’s eyes went to the Hall of Haunts and saw that there was no line. There was no magic more mystifying to a boy like Ray than that of his favorite carnival ride and no line to wait in.
He ran so fast to the Hall of Haunts, it was as if the soles of his feet never touched the ground. He jumped into the cart and eagerly pulled down the safety bar. Ray’s eyes wandered around to the operating booth to find that no one was pulling the levers and pushing the buttons necessary for the ride to work. But before he could search for whoever was in charge of the Hall of Haunts, the cart jolted violently, the doors with a demon face painted on it swung open and the ride began.
With the darkness of night shrouding all the worn canvas, the lights flashed brighter, and the darkness of the Hall of Haunts was somehow darker. This made all the creatures and oddballs that haunted the ride seem more alive. But something, Ray recognized, was entirely different, the trolls had a twinkle in their feline eyes, the snarls of goblins resembled smiles, and the wails of ghosts were more like the welcome laughter of children. It was scarier than usual, but still more welcoming than Aunt Esther’s house.
Midway through the ride, the cart stopped. This wasn’t part of the ride, Ray remarked under his breath. The safety bar flung open and the cart turned towards a dark wall. The ghouls and ghosts seemed to beckon him to get off the ride. Without any fear, the young boy got to his feet; the sleeves of his father’s jacket hung down to his knees. There was a dark entrance to a cave that Ray didn’t remember ever seeing before.
“Is that where they took the carts when they close the ride down?” the boy asked himself. But it couldn’t be. He saw them one time taking the cars out another back door. He definitely never saw this on the ride before. Curiosity drew him into the darkness, and he saw a world of possibility that no one had ever taught him about just beyond the frightening parts, the dark into the darkness, and he saw a world of possibility that no one had ever taught him about just beyond the frightening parts, the darkness of the cave.
“This is much better than Aunt Esther’s!” he exclaimed. And he wandered deep into the darkness, not afraid of the unknown. In fact, he welcomed a world of surprises that lay before him. In this darkness, scary parts were fun parts, and he knew that growing old didn’t have to mean growing dull.
The next morning, Ray was found asleep in his bed. The boy would have no memory of how he got back in bed, or if he ever got out of it in the first place. His father went to wake him and was welcomed with a mystery.
“Honey,” he called his wife to Ray’s room, “Take a look at this.”
“I don’t understand,” she answered.
“Neither do I,” the father agreed. They were never able to fully understand why Ray had gone to bed wearing his shoes and his father’s jacket. But then again, they never understood what was so special about the Hall of Haunts.
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