The Warning

Some years ago I was accused of plagiarism on this piece. A bitter and nasty argument broke out about it on a writing site called Storymania. I think the unfolding thread is still there under my story which was originally called, Room For One More.

While I don't doubt that a similar story about a failed fairground ride is an American Urban Legend that predates mine by fifty years, I can only say that every word of this came out of my head. And while it may be similar in some respects, I believe my story has my twist on it. For that reason I let it stand... I have changed my original title

The Warning

Mike woke from troubled sleep with a phrase playing over and over in his mind:

Room for one more!

He had no idea what the significance of the phrase was and couldn’t remember what he’d been dreaming about.

He showered, mentally preparing for his ten thirty presentation but the four words ran through his head, breaking each thought into fragments and making it impossible to concentrate. The hot needles of smarting water rained down on his skull, stimulating hair follicles, blood cells and endorphins. He should feel good, but he was perturbed.

His dream came back to him with a jolt as he reached out for the shower gel. A big man with a round face leaning over the side of a boat. People below him all reaching out, desperate to get on the boat before? Before what? Before they drowned in the icy waters, he supposed. Despite the heat from the shower, Mike shuddered and his sponge skimmed over the goose pimples breaking out along his thigh.

The rest of the week flew past in a blur of meetings and presentations; he made his monthly bonus and the sun shone. He was the golden child of Spencer, Spencer and Hartley, he had the best girl in the world, and his life was charmed.

On Friday night he met the gang in the pub. Mel felt good in his arms and he was proud of his clever girlfriend. There may have been girls in the pub that night that were more classically beautiful but none could hold a candle to his Mel when it came to comfortable prettiness, quiet intelligence and bright personality. She was tiny and slim and she felt so small and vulnerable in the circle of his arms. Mike felt protective towards her, which would have mortified Mel had she known. She may only be little but she considered herself a force to be reckoned with and had a tidy temper to prove it. She knew life no other way than the way it was and she coped just fine, ‘Thank you very much.’

The next morning the six friends were going to the theme park just south of Shorehampton. The evening ended for Mike on a glow from too much lager and an oozy warm feeling from smooching round the dance floor with Mel.

By lunchtime the next day his voice was hoarse from describing all the colours and sights.

After six months of going steady with Mel, his powers of description had improved in leaps and bounds. ‘It's big,’ just didn't cut it. Mel would want to know how big. If he dared to say something was beautiful, lovely, pretty, hideous or disgusting, Mel would turn to him with a frown and he had to go into lengthy observations of why he thought so. Now, he automatically described everything as they went along.

In fact, it had reached the point of the ridiculous. One day he was in a meeting and his boss asked Mike what sort of day it was.

‘Well,’ Mike said, ‘the sun isn’t completely risen. It's resting just above the rooftops as though it's taking a rest before going any further. The clouds are light and look as soft as a comfortable pillow. There’s not a hint of thunder and the breeze is blowing the honeysuckle on its vine.’

Mike stopped when his boss looked at him as though he'd sprouted a second head that spoke only Japanese. His colour had risen like that hiding sun as he explained that his girlfriend was blind. Mel would have killed him for that. She hated people being warned in advance of meeting her. She said they were pre-conditioned to walk on eggshells. Mike smiled at the memory of that day before embarking on a description of the rapid ride.

The words meant little to Mel; she had her four senses—though Mike disputed that and argued five because of her uncanny perception. They gave her all the stimulation that she needed. She just loved to hear Mike's enthusiasm as he detailed their surroundings for her. She didn't know what sunshine looked like but she never tired of hearing Mike describe it for her.

‘No Mel, not another roller-coaster? Give me a break, I can't take much more. It's all right for you, you can't see the world looming up at you at a million miles an hour, or the green faces of the people getting off.’

‘Oh c'mon you big wuss, show me what you're made of.’

Mike lowered his voice and gripped her tightly round the waist. ‘When I get you home tonight, you'll have no doubt what I'm made of.’

‘Promises, promises,’ she giggled.

The others were making their way to the Pirate Ship.

‘Come on you two love birds,’ shouted Sandra, ‘the queue's not too long for this ride.’ They could have had an express pass to the front of all the queues because of Mel’s blindness and she loved them for not asking her to take advantage of it.

Dave and Sandra, Sally and Jen all walked the gangplank onto the big ship and sat at the very back where the ride was most intense. There was only one space left beside Sally and Mike told Mel to take it.

‘C'mon Mel, get your sea-legs. I'll tell you when to wave to Mike from the top.’

Mel's eyes shone with excitement; she was unaware how transparently her feelings showed and therefore she made no attempt to hide them. She hesitated. ‘Nah, you're all right, Sal. I'll sit this one out with Mike. See you when you get off.’

‘For God's sake, Mel, Mike will survive two minutes without you, you know. His world isn't going to collapse if you go on a ride without him.’

‘Go on you,’ murmured Mike against her slightly moist neck, ‘I'll be waiting to escort her ladyship off when it's finished.’

‘Room for a little one,’ said the ride attendant.

He looked down at Mel and she shook her head. Mike never stopped being impressed by her perception; she could always feel when people were looking at her. Sometimes she’d blush and say, ‘Mike, you’ve been staring at me for five minutes. Stop it.’

The man moved his gaze over the queue and announced in a louder voice, ‘room for one more!’

‘Here Mate!’ Mike drew his attention back. ‘My girlfriend's changed her mind.’

Mike gave Mel a gentle push in the small of her back, as Sally came forward to take her hand and guide her into the seat.

Suddenly Mike froze. The man's words had broken his dream. A feeling of mind-numbing foreboding spread from the tips of his toes to disperse throughout his body before spilling out of his mouth in a gurgled, ‘Mel, no!’

It was too late; the man had secured the safety gates and the ride was already beginning its progress into the swinging arc it would become. Gently, it moved in an easy swaying motion backwards and forwards. Each movement brought the ship out at a greater angle.

Mike felt sick. He was hyperventilating. He had to get out from the top of the queue of people; all of those hot bodies pressing up against him. He had to get out.

‘Hey mate, you okay?’ Mike didn't answer he was already pushing his way against the crowd to get to the ride operator.

Once he’d barged his way through the claustrophobic barriers and into the cooling breeze he tried to regain some semblance of rationale. What was happening to him?

‘Hey, big fella,’ a Neanderthal shouted behind him, ‘people usually puke when they get off a ride, not before they've got on.’ Mike heard the baboon laughing with his mates.

Okay, come on now. Get a grip Mikey. He told himself. It was only a stupid dream and it didn’t even have anything to do with fair rides; it was about a shipwreck for Christ's sake. Nothing’s going to happen; you’re just being stupid and overprotective. He laughed at his overactive imagination and tried to forget the man of his dream and his striking resemblance to the ride attendant. There were lots of middle aged men with black hair.

He took some deep breaths and felt his diaphragm expanding with the healing oxygen. He heard his heartbeat slowing as it pounded less and less in his ears and he felt better. It was just a stupid panic attack.

He’d promised to wave to Mel and looked up at the ship sailing through the air above him. It had almost reached its zenith and he saw her and the others held against the back of her seat by the G-force. She was laughing and looked as happy as he’d ever seen her. Mike liked the way she laughed big; there was nothing mealy-mouthed about her and her smile was as generous as her nature. He shouted and waved like a lunatic but his voice was taken away on the wind and was lost amongst the clouds.

The ship was in its descent. He lip-read Mel mouthing his name and laughed as he saw her waving against gravity.

He saw the sickening crunch as much as heard it. And he heard the horror etched on the faces of the riders. Those sounds and visions would come back to him daily for the rest of his life.

Mel's eyes were open wide and her mouth stretched in a scream that he felt both low down in his gut and higher up in the left side of his chest.

The ship lurched, one of its huge girder arms was loose from its mooring. Mike watched in stupefied horror as the boat discharged its passengers. He saw them disembark, messily, onto the concrete sixty feet below. There were so many broken bodies, but Mike only saw one.

He thought back five minutes to Sally's words:

‘Mike's world isn't going to collapse if you go on a ride without him.’

And he watched as his world did just that.