I published a collection of my short stories a while back: Desire.
Disclaimer: this collection contains erotic stories intended for mature readers. The following extract is not so erotic.
‘I hate theme parks,’ I tell her.
‘I hate the crowds, I hate the noise and more than anything I hate the rollercoasters.’
‘You’ll love this one,’ she says with a grin. Alice never takes no for an answer. I follow her through the car park, this wild girl of mine, not happy but less petulant than I would be with any other person on earth.
She is so fearless; she doesn’t understand the fear in others.
She takes courage for granted and goads me on. Alice leaps into space, free falling, trusting she’ll land unharmed.
I hesitate on the brink.
Sometimes I think I’ll lose her while I hesitate.
‘Come on’ she says, pushing me forward.
‘Look around you, this is different.’
I don’t want to admit that she is right, as we pass surreal sights of dreamlike wonder – a fair ground that lacks the abrasive edges of too-loud music and quest for fun.
I slip my hand into the back pocket of her jeans, to let her know she is forgiven for the dirty trick of bringing me here.
This is softness - gelato blues and greens and pinks; jewellery box music tinkling in the breeze.
Everything moves with an underwater grace; with the indolence of a young girl eating ice cream on a sunny afternoon, sleepy yet purposeful.
The Ruby Slipper bar in a field of poppies; floats of drag queens and tinsel - a mardi gras parade every hour on the hour; rainbow carousels, magic mirrors that shimmer with absurd beauty.
A huge woman takes a hammer to test her strength, snake-tattooed biceps rippling into action as she rings the winning bell.
She selects her prize, a china doll as petite and precious as her companion.
Two black bobbed girls, almost twins, link arms and giggle as they share a stick of fairy floss bigger than their heads.
‘Is this real?’ I ask Alice.
‘It’s as real as you want it to be.’
She tosses her head and her flame-red hair glows in the sun.