Carousel I hate carousels. A sweaty man in a tank top, cooped up in a box, waits with goblin hands to grab my coin. Mummy smiles, says "it'll be fun!". I choose a horse and climb on but the seat is hard and uncomfortable. The music starts, that same old tune. Here we go... up and down, up and down, up and down. The horse lurches forward as it goes down. My tummy lurches forward as it goes down. Cling to the pole. Mummy's watching. Smile. Everyone's watching. Smile. The horse looks sad, no, mad. He wants to escape. Peeling, unloved and dizzy. Don't worry horsey, I'm dizzy too. Children scream "faster". No, not faster! Mum waves. I wave. I'm scared. Charlie's scared. He's such a happy colour, yellow, like a daffodil. That's strange: why isn't my name painted on my leg too? There's an Alex a Robyn a Sam and a Drew, a Dani a Jesse, an Ashley too. Are they boys or girls? Who knows, no time. I need to get off. Quick, quick, quick. I jump down, "bye Charlie". But we're still spinning, still spinning. Mummy's shouting. I'm running. I fall. Splat. Shriek. Cry. The carousel stops. I hate carousels.