Micro-fiction by Pamela Eason
Decetra was one inch short of the fifty required to ride the Denali. She grabbed the platform shoes stamped with Evilla Fille’s face from the concessionaire and hopped back in line, two inches taller. She stuffed the receipt she would need for her $39.95 plus tax refund deep into her back pocket and climbed into the last seat. A thin smirk pushed her cheeks tight against her eyes. The lap bar settled close to her waist. Click. Decetra jiggled the bar.
Clack, clack, clack. Her heartbeat quickened. The coaster paused. Decetra’s heart pumped faster. Her stomach tightened.
She whooshed into vertical descent. Pressure sucked, hips, legs, feet from restraint. Decetra’s white-knuckled grip wrenched free. Free-falling, head down, she looked up at Evilla’s sneer and screamed.
Photo by Linnaea Mallette, “Roller Coaster Glows At Night.” Public Domain license CC01.0.