A Momentous Day
The curious tale of a precariously placed gift shop
All Jillian could do was choke, as billowing smoke came at her from all sides. It had that stale, lingering smell of the kind that comes from machines, and it tickled her nose most obnoxiously. Everything came to a standstill and she got out, readjusting the fanny pack on her waist. Once her coughing stopped, she pushed back her tousled hair and exited the ride. Stepping back into reality, she noticed she was in a gift shop, of course. How else would they pry her last, few precious dollars from her? Jillian defiantly clutched onto her fanny pack once more and proceeded through the door.
“Hello, excuse me,” a voice from behind her inquired.
“I am not interested in any postcards, thank you.”
“No, no, of course not. I just wanted to see if you want this.”
Turning around she saw a young, squirrely boy behind the counter holding something up. Upon making her way back over toward him the shop suddenly felt so much larger, as if it had expanded from the lack of her quick exit. It had the usual turn stands, snack bar, and trinket tables, outfitted with all its gaudy, cartoonishly-rendered knick-knacks that would become master dust collectors, but there were other things too, just outside of her periphery that she could sense. Skulls…
