Snake Oil Lullabies and other ways to faint the belle: A Short Story Collection

The Marbury Monster

Brandon stood, facing the eye of the Ferris wheel. It watched him back. Reds, blues, and greens blinking in the steady Morse code of neon lights that radiated from its turning center. With a diameter of 80 feet, the Marbury Monster was far from the tallest wheel in the world, but it was one of the biggest traveling rides to tour the United States. And now it was back in Brandon's sleepy hometown of Meridian, after a twenty-one year absence. A fistful of tickets bulged in the pockets of his khakis. He traced their cardboard outline with apprehensive fingers, a lump in his throat as the cool autumn air prickled his flesh.

"Are ya getting' on?" The shockingly slender operator with gray hair and sunken cheeks asked, before spitting streams of murky juice into a small Styrofoam cup. Brackish spatters stained his knuckles, and the smell of chaw hung thick in the immediate atmosphere.

"Yes, sir. I was just wondering how long you had been with this carnival outfit."

"Long enough to know how to operate a damn Ferris wheel, that's what you're asking," he replied with barely veiled venom.

"No, sir. That's not what I meant," Brandon rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly and stammered. "History. It's history. I like – I – I mean I'm interested in stuff like that. History of the rides and such. You would have been here when..." He peered up at the headline banner, noting the ride's new name as 'Big Thunder'. Brandon finished his statement, "When the company picked up Big Thunder."

The carnie eyed Brandon with a knowing glare that made the younger man feel as uneasy as the stare of that glowing metal behemoth. "You mean the Monster?" He searched Brandon's face for a tell or any sign of recognition. "Yeah. That's what you're here for. Picked it up four years ago, back in '61 from Mike Higgins' outfit. Said they only had it for three years before they had to pack it in. Traded hands six more times before that. I suppose you know where it came from originally, don'cha?"

"Marbury Brother's Circus," Brandon answered.

The old man softened as he nodded. "Yep. Listen, kid. You're probably old enough to remember Marbury Brothers' and the Monster, but we don't talk about it. Especially not here. The locals would prolly run us outta town, they knew we brought back that devil."

Brandon's baby face belied his almost forty years of age, but he was darn sure old enough to remember. He reached into his pocket and brought out the tickets, an even hundred of them. They spilled from the sides of his clammy fists. "Can I – would it be alright if I just rode until I was ready to get off?"

The operator grinned and took the stubs. "Son, for that many tickets you can ride all weekend."

Brandon began walking toward the Ferris wheel. "Do you know which car...?"

The carnie's smile faltered. "You're not one of those freaks with some kind of obsession, are ya? We thought it might play like a novelty act for a while, but the boss man says nobody rides that car anymore."

"No, sir. I – I knew her. Just wanted to pay my respects, that's all. I'll keep my head down, I swear."

The old man pulled a lever, rotating the gondolas another quarter turn. As Brandon turned to climb aboard, he heard the operator calling after him.

"Son! Son!" The man reached into his trousers and pulled out a greasy flask that looked as ancient as he was. He held it out to Brandon. "Thought you might want this. Steady the nerves some."

Brandon accepted the container and thanked the old man, then turned to face the Monster one last time. The flashing lights greeted him with sinister affection as he entered the stalled car, the door clanging shut behind him as he took a seat. Within seconds, the gondola swung back and forth on creaky hinges, leaving the platform behind for the starry night sky. The babble of the crowds and tinkling calliope music faded to a murmur as Brandon slumped in his seat.