Licking candy floss, cold biting skin, laughing at gossip. Hull Fair draws us in: bright lights, loud music and roasting nuts. Fair folk shout and spin, sharp grins for all, risking limbs with callous aplomb. Lilly gasps and points; I watch as it turns, dismay closing my throat.

This is it. Climb on board: icy bar clicks shut, snicking skin, trapping limbs. Hands into fists as it jolts into motion. Hotdog onion sizzling in crisp air, distant and soon lost. Fist into mouth-can't stop imagination tipping us out into vast dark arms. Lilly laughs and flicks and taunts and… too much, too far… my world stops as our chair sways, its bar swinging out.

Old horror twists into a bright, sharp now. Lights pinprick and loom, distant but look just a jump away. Lilly pants, fast light gasps. Music thumps through my body, thrums through iron, sings of flight.

Hands up, wind snatching at hair, grinning so hard my jaw hurts. My turn to shout: This Is It.

Our world spins away.

Lost to us.

The Constraints