The Rust-Lung Carousel

The padlock on the main gate was a joke. Finn clipped it with a pair of bolt cutters from his dad’s shed, and the chain fell away with a tired, rusty clatter. The sound was swallowed by the rhythmic shushing of the waves under the pier. Inside, the Oceanville Fun Fair was a graveyard of summer memories, its rides hulking like sleeping metal beasts under the weak security lights.

"I can't believe they're actually doing it," Izzy whispered, her hand resting on the flank of a faded fibreglass horse that guarded the entrance. "Tearing it all down for condos. It feels wrong."

"It's called progress, Iz," Liam said, kicking at a loose board on the deck. "This place has been losing money for years. My uncle said the whole pier's a death trap." He gestured at the Ferris wheel, its empty carriages swaying gently in the sea breeze. "Probably for the best."

"Shut up, Liam," Jia said, not looking up from the viewfinder of her old camcorder. She was panning slowly across the silent park, the camera's red recording light a tiny, defiant beacon in the gloom. "Let us have our moment of tragic, cinematic angst."

Finn said nothing. He just breathed in the familiar air—a compound of salt, fried onions, and ozone—and felt a hollowness in his chest. Three summers he'd spent here, operating the waltzer, lying about his age to get the job. It was the place he'd first held Jia's hand, the place he'd had his first real fight with Liam. Now, at eight a.m., the bulldozers would move in. This was it. The absolute end.

"So," Liam said, rubbing his hands together. "What's the plan? Do we just stand here getting maudlin, or are we going to do something stupid?"

"I want to ride the carousel," Izzy announced, her eyes fixed on the ride at the centre of the park. Its canopy was peeling, and the painted horses looked chipped and crazed in the sodium lights, their smiles manic.

"The power's off, genius," Liam scoffed.

Finn looked at the control booth, then at the main breaker box near the candy floss stand. He remembered old Sal, the park's mechanic, showing him how to bypass the main fuses. A terrible, wonderful idea began to form. "Maybe it's not," he said.

The Last Rotation

The breaker box groaned in protest, but with a shower of orange sparks and a loud *thump*, the park shuddered to life. Strings of coloured bulbs flickered on, casting long, garish shadows. The hot dog stand's rotating sausage sign began to turn with a mournful squeal. A distorted, tinny version of 'Pop Goes the Weasel' crackled from the speakers of the hook-a-duck stall.

"You're a goddamn miracle worker, Finn!" Jia laughed, pointing her camera at his grinning, grease-stained face.

They ran to the carousel, the sudden light and sound making them giddy. It looked both magical and deeply sad, a forgotten toy brought back to life. Izzy had already picked her horse, a black one with a chipped golden mane she'd named Midnight.

Finn squeezed into the tiny operator's booth. The controls were simple: a big red button for 'on' and a heavy lever for speed. He took a deep breath, looked out at his friends poised on their faded steeds, and pressed the button.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then, with a sound like a giant's groan, the platform began to turn. The calliope music kicked in, but it was wrong. Warped and slow, like a dying music box, the notes bending and slurring. The horses began their gentle, mechanical rise and fall.

"It's working!" Izzy yelled, her voice full of pure joy.

Jia was filming it all, a wide smile on her face. Even Liam looked impressed, giving Finn a thumbs-up. Finn pushed the speed lever forward a little. The carousel picked up pace, the warped music growing louder, more insistent.

He pushed it further. The salt wind whipped their hair as they spun faster. The lights of the park began to blur into streaks of colour. Finn felt a strange vibration through the floor of the booth, not the familiar rattle of old machinery, but something deeper, smoother.

"Finn, maybe slow it down!" Liam called out, his voice tight.

Finn reached for the lever, but it wouldn't budge. It was stuck. He pulled harder, his knuckles white. The lever was frozen solid. "I can't!" he shouted over the screeching music.

The ride was moving faster now than he'd ever seen it go. The park outside was a vortex of light and shadow. The rise and fall of the horses was no longer gentle; they were bucking, their movements fluid and unnervingly real. Finn looked at Izzy's horse, Midnight, and swore he saw its painted eye blink.

"What's happening?!" Jia screamed, clinging to her pole, the camera forgotten at her side.

The calliope music died with a final, strangled chord, but the carousel didn't slow. It kept accelerating, the only sound now the roar of the wind and a deep, resonant hum that seemed to be coming from the platform itself. The wooden floorboards beneath Finn's feet began to feel soft, unreal.

He risked a glance out of the booth's window. The park was gone. The pier was gone. There was no sea, no town, just an endless, swirling tunnel of grey mist. He looked at his friends. Their faces were pale with terror, their mouths open in silent screams. Izzy was staring at her horse, her eyes wide with horrified wonder. The black paint on Midnight seemed to be melting away, revealing something that looked like muscle and bone underneath.

The old pier wasn't just a collection of wood and steel. It had soaked up thirty years of summer laughter, tears, and energy. And now, on its last night, it was using that energy to give them one final ride. A ride to somewhere else entirely.