Small Town Samhain

“Baby, win me a prize at the county fair.” The smell of funnel cake mingles with the metallic scent of rickety rides. The smoke billowing in the air accents my chills but I still want to be stuck with you at the top of the ferris wheel; It’s trick or treat season, candy is permitted. Sugar highs and sticky lips facing mundane fears; Adrenaline masked by the risk of falling, talking masked by intense screaming, did I give in again? Water gun balloon races, basketballs, and too tall to carry stuffed animals. They all have a feeling of time sensitive anxiety. Bulls and hogs with blue ribbons spooking. Is it a masked ticket vendor or someone stalking the next line breaker? Beaten horror house, fiery tilt a whirl spinning; Wild small town Samhain.