A Tiny Miniature World Where the Proportions Are Slightly Off
Burandt, Marina Rose
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I continually saw visions of a massive, black-roofed carnival structure being destroyed in the middle of the ocean. It stood on thin, wooden posts encrusted in mussels, and was intertwined with slides and rollercoasters across its multiple stories. As I edged around the outside of it, I could see footage of the wreckage, a pleasant female voice describing the shoddy workmanship, the code violations, and the death toll. The uppermost level seemed abandoned for years, and it swayed perilously under my four gripping limbs. The entrance to the tallest slide gaped before me and I considered riding it to the bottom, but I could only hear the echoes of the lady newscaster grimly describing the carnage and my mom’s disappointment in me for becoming involved. I instead leapt from the peak, watching the churning waves below begin to swallow the structure whole.