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| The Squealer by Al Forbes |
The blast of dated muzak drowns out the excited echoes
from below as each spin turns faster and higher. You and I look at each other
knowingly. The time of destiny is coming. Our time with the squealing Earth
dwellers is at an end. They call us carnies, gypsies and travelers as they
look for a quick thrill.
Indeed we are travelers. As the spinning gets faster we
feel the vortex approaching. The air turns cold as the ride reaches its highest
point. It is then we feel the grasp of the portal take us through time, flying
into a distant dimension. At last we are going home.
© J Farmer 2013
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