It was his first time. He was more joyful than any five year-old could possibly be. The sweet smell of funnel cake rose to his nose, and he could hear the excitement of locals riding the roller coasters. He was thrilled to be in such a place. His knees were coated in dirt from the dusty ground, his fingers were stuck together from sticky cotton candy, yet he didn’t seem to give a care as he explored the fairgrounds.
He looked up into the sky. It was going to be getting dark soon, as the sun was slowly touching the horizon. He shivered. Where was his father? He was right next to him at the bottle ring toss. He shrugged and kept prancing around. He kept a red balloon tied tightly to his wrist, and it moved swiftly in the wind. Without warning, he bumped into a line of people.

“Sorry,” he simply stated before looking at the cause of the line. A large wheel with twelve colorful seats on it moved clockwise. A ferris wheel. His father had told him earlier not to get on the ferris wheel because he knew the young boy had a fear of heights.

He knew he should obey his father’s wishes, but the vivid, multi-colored wheel looked so inviting. His father wouldn’t mind one trip, would he?

Finally, after a five-minute wait, the ferris wheel stopped, signaling the end of the previous group’s turn. He gulped as the line kept filing and filing behind him.

At last, it was his turn to take a seat on the ferris wheel. He quivered slightly, making his way to the operator of the Ferris wheel, - a scruffy guy who could lose some weight and use a shave. He had dark sweat stains at the sleeves and the neck of the shirt.

“Here,” said the operator, putting out his hand. His breath smelled of cigarettes and onions. The young boy hesitated, but took the hairy, clammy hand. The operator helped him onto the seat and buckled the young boy in. He settled into his seat. “Don’t fall out,” were the only instructions the operator muttered. much, he wanted to scream.

He only nodded in response. He was rather worried. He had a strong fear of heights. What if he was stuck at the top?

He opened his mouth to protest, but the operator moved his car into the sky a bit more to buckle in the next person. No turning back now.
He kept moving up and up. He could see almost the whole fair.

After a while, he closed his eyes. He was getting too high up. Out of nowhere, the seat he was in tipped and the stop seemed longer than usual. He wondered if he was already back down, but as he opened his eyes, he realized he was dead wrong.

He was at the top.

He tried closing his eyes again, but fear kept getting to him. He held onto the handlebar in front of him until his knuckles turned white and started to breathe abnormally fast.

What if I can’t get down?

or worse...

What if I fall down?

He tried to shake off the negativity and be optimistic, but he couldn’t. Nothing good was coming out of this. He played with the string of his red balloon, opposite of the hand it was tied to. His red balloon was the only thing that was helping him feel safe. It was the only thing that was with him before he was lost. It was a piece of security. As his palms started to sweat and become slippery on the handlebar, he regretted the trip. He regretted it so much, he wanted to scream.

So he did.

Then, after taking some deep breathes, it dawned on him how cool the situation he was in was.

He was at the top of a Ferris wheel. The sun was almost done setting and the neon lights of the fair lit up the sky. It was beautiful. He didn’t want to close his eyes again, he wanted to use every one of his five senses he could while he was up here. He saw a beautiful sky full of dim stars about to shine after the sun rested above him, he was touching a colorful car that sat only him, he could smell every sweet thing from the fair, and he heard things. Actually, he heard lots of things. He heard a girl singing and some people clapping, some people screaming and some people laughing, a dog barking and a man yelling out a name. A name that was faint, but he heard it perfectly.

“Franklin!” the man called.

“Dad, I’m up here!” And with that, he slipped his wrist out of his red balloon, watching it until it was no longer visible.