Treat

Arthur Roberts' rough, leathery hands were occupied with holding on
to each of his two young granddaughters. They skipped merrily beside
him with the kind of innocence that only children truly have.

"Thanks for taking us out, Granddad!" Mary cried, her excited voice
almost a squeal.

"Well, that's fine little lady. That's what Granddads are for, isn't it
now?" Arthur replied, his voice soft and calm. By the look of him, you
would imagine it could equally be loud and abrasive. He was a
broad-shouldered, no-nonsense man, his size contrasting with the tiny
figures that danced beside him. Him, tall and rough, stubble-chinned
and working-clothed. His granddaughters, tiny flitting fairies with
sweet and tidy hair and shining shoes.

"Where are we going, Granddad?" Stephanie asked, pitching her question
at the skyscraper man who towered above her, his shadow saving her from
the glare of the spring sun.

"Now, that would be telling, wouldn't it?," he teased, "It'll have to
remain a surprise. After all, surprises are more exciting, aren't
they?"

"Oh, Granddad!," came the discordant reply, and he gripped their hands
a little tighter and pulled them along even faster.

They marched on, through the suburban streets, down the weed-strewn
footpath that crunched underfoot and across the park, their shoes
moistened by the spring dew. Cobwebs drew their attention, glistening
with diamond beads. Birds scattered from trees as they scurried along
ploughing a furrow through the ankle-deep grass, causing squeals of
childish delight. Many times, the girls tugged away from Granddad's
firm grip as something caught their attention, and they skipped off,
circling and laughing before returning to his side to take his hands
once more.
The distractions of the park meant the surprise was briefly forgotten,
but only briefly. It lurked, concealed, at the back of their minds,
waiting until inquisitive minds with short attention spans soon forgot
birds in flight and spiders' webs and remembered their adventure.

"Is it far to where we're going, Granddad?," and before he could
answer, "What's that noise, Granddad?"

To Arthur, the glee on his granddaughters faces and the expectation in
their eyes was his indulgence, so for that reason alone he wasn't about
to tell them. In any case, he didn't have to. They rounded the small
copse of oaks in the corner of the park and the open ground on the
other side sprawled away forever.
Except, standing in the centre of the wasteland that they called Manor
Heath, in all its vulgar glory against the lush spring countryside,
stood a fun fair.

"A fun fair!! A FUN FAIR!!!" the girls exclaimed together, and Granddad
Arthur had to hold even tighter as they convulsed and cavorted as if
his fingers held electric sparks. Like two clockwork mice wound to
their limits, they danced and scuttled about.

"Is that the surprise then, Granddad? Is that where we're going?"
Stephanie inquired, crossing her fingers and hoping against hope that
she was right. The dancing ceased. Arthur noticed the lull in their
excitement as they waited, holding their breath together, and he played
on it, considering his answer for a good few seconds. Eventually, he
could maintain his poker face no longer.

"Of course it is!" he boomed, fuelling the carnival once more as they
jigged as best they could under his restraining grip. He caught himself
smiling gently.

"Well?" he said, "what are we going to do first?"

They wandered about the fun fair, looking on in amazement at the
wondrous selection at each consecutive stall. The girls were drawn like
fireflies to the enticing lights and sounds of each one, electrified
more and more as each seemed more fantastic than the last.

"Come on then, pretty ladies - come and win yourself a cuddly toy!" a
stall holder enticed.

Eyes lit up and opened wide. "Wow! Granddad, can we win one of those? I
want the big bear with the green eyes!"

"And I want the brown one over there! Please Granddad!" they pleaded,
before another cry hailed their attention:

"Twenty-one or over with three darts to win a goldfish! Come on ladies,
try your luck! Granddad will throw for you! Win yourself a living,
swimming, golden fish!" And they were off again, cuddly toys pushed to
the back of mental cupboards to gather dust quietly.

Arthur reached the stall as the girls had already chosen their prizes,
gold slivers that glinted and sparkled as they swam their five second
plastic bag laps. The stall's owner had already enchanted them and
Arthur knew there would be trouble if he went home with two more than
he'd set off with. He also knew the wrath he would face when he refused
two young ladies their wish.

"Tell you what, girls, let's leave these fish here for now." His hands
reached out reassuringly to pat two pretty heads. "We can always come
back later, after all the rides we're going to have, and win them then.
We don't want to carry them round with us, getting bothered and
frightened, now do we?" They looked up at him, sorrowful eyes melting
his heart. Even if he had committed some terrible deed, he thought, he
didn't deserve a stare such as that.

"Aw, Granddad. Why not?" lamented a sorrow-filled Mary.

"Look, over there!" he said, blatantly ignoring the question to divert
their gaze to one of the rides. "I can see the carousel. Can you see
it?" Unhappy faces remained, though he knew they hadn't been able to
resist a peek at what he was pointing at. Unfazed, he continued.
"Right, well I can see two fine horses, fit for my little princesses.
Lets see who can get there first!" he cried, giving them a push from
behind. Immediately, Mary set off, and unable to resist the challenge,
Stephanie skipped and ran after her, squealing with excitement
again.

"I'm going to win! I'm catching you!" Stephanie cried, and goldfish
slipped away as galloping horses appeared from nowhere, gold and silver
and blue and red, running their perpetual circular race.

Then, after prising them from the horses, bumper cars were driven
recklessly as Arthur looked on nervously, shouting "slow down!", "mind
out!" and an assortment of other commands that the girls gleefully
ignored.

Breathless and exhilarated they continued, launching themselves down
the helter-skelter with the wind whirling tornadoes in their hair, then
ascending and plummeting the skydiver like maniac stunt pilots out of
control, before pirouetting like spinning tops on the Waltzer. And
always close by where he could keep an eye on them, Arthur stood, both
fearful and yet content that they were having fun.

Finally, when two unsteady girls stepped off the waltzer, groaning and
giggling as they regained their balance, Arthur called a halt before he
faced two ailing girls with churning stomachs. "Right, time for some
candy-floss I think!" he said, wondering at the wisdom of his choice,
but too late - the girls were already cheering their agreement. He
motioned towards the food stall with its array of delightful sweets and
foods guaranteed to rot teeth and charm children.

"Hooray!" they cried, and yellow and red candy-floss was chosen, plus a
toffee apple for Granddad after some youthful persuasion.

Taking their fairground treats, they wandered about, taking in the
pandemonium of sights and sounds as they ate. The girls added mentally
to an already-inexhaustible list of what to do next as stall after
stall caught their eye. Candy-floss tufts were unravelled and swallowed
as they moved along, the sugary cloud dwindling until, as they reached
the last few rides, all that remained was sticky wet sugar on a bare
wooden stick.

Arthur finished his apple and conjured the obligatory handkerchief that
all adults carry to clean the sugary remains from their faces. "Right,
that's all there is to see girls, so shall we wander back and find
something along the way?" he suggested.

"We haven't looked at that yet, Granddad." Mary said, her arm suddenly
jabbing the air.

"Well, there's nothing that gets past you, is there girl?" said Arthur,
following the invisible line from Mary's thrust out finger towards the
back of a tall, black-framed construction behind all of the other
stalls. Its back was towards them as if it wanted to be unnoticed. "I
don't there's anything there, Mary. I think it's just a vehicle they
use to store the rides in when they pack up. Come on, let's go and find
those cuddly bears you were looking at."

Unconvinced, Mary stood and stared at it. She had the feeling, deep
inside her, that she was leaving behind something special, the best
part of the whole fair. Then, as she looked curiously on, she
saw.....no, thought she saw.....a small boy run towards the mysterious
thing and disappear from view. And she was sure she heard something!
"Listen Granddad! Listen Stephanie!" she half-whispered, turning her
head to focus on the sound. They stood listening together, Arthur
concentrating but sensing nothing of the magical sound that hypnotised
the girls.

"I can't hear anything Mary. But then as I'm just an old bloke, my
hearing isn't very....."

"There.....I can hear it now!" Stephanie cried out, still preoccupied
on the sound and oblivious to what her Granddad was saying.

Arthur's mouth closed abruptly and he listened again. This time, a
faint but distinguishable sound carried to his ear, reaching him
briefly, then fading again as the fanfare of excited children and
fairground tunes peaked and troughed. The sound he heard was a mixture
of metal clanking and an almost unidentifiable but uncomfortable
low-pitched moaning.

"Granddad - it's a ride!" Mary cried, and the two girls hauled on his
immovable figure like miners hauling a sack of coal. He grudgingly let
his legs move at their pace, until they rounded the last stall and
could see it from one side.
Rounding it still further, they could see that, indeed, it was a ride.
Spelt out in blood red, dripping crimson against the gleaming inky
blackness of the panelling, was painted the name - "Satan's Mouth".
Indeed, the entrance to the ride, through which a train of cars now
passed, was a gaping red orifice of sharpened teeth and screaming
terror. It was the Ghost Train.

Even as Arthur's mind deciphered the letters of the name, he could feel
the same uncomfortable sensation up and down his spine that he always
felt when faced with what his parents used to call "works of evil". He
could feel the stinging force behind the words of his devout parents
starkly warning him about such terrible things as the mysteries of the
tarot, Ouija boards and suchlike. Though he hadn't heard those words
for forty years, their moral lectures had sealed fear into his
soul.
Clear in his mind, like it was yesterday, he remembered the year he was
coaxed into joining Halloween celebrations by school friends. Even
clearer still, he recalled the scolding he received on arriving home
and being forced to spend a whole week locked in his room, his parents
instilling in him a thousand and one reasons why he should never do
that again!, each word beaten into his backside with a leather
belt.
Yes, Halloween was a time for the Devil Himself to creep into the minds
of children. It was a time to lock your doors, cross yourself quickly
and pray that the souls of the world's children would make it to the
morn. And to impersonate a creature of Satan, to dress up as a fiend or
monster on Halloween, was just inviting the darkness into yourself! It
was a terrible thing! So he had to be taught a lesson, kept in his room
where they could cleanse his mind and teach him the 'right way' and
'how to be free of sin'.
Even now, though he was more tolerant than his parents ever could have
been, his heart shuddered as he stared at the ride. The fear was
distilled inside him. It would always be there.
He tried reasoning with himself; it was only a ride, after all. What
harm was there in that? Just like Halloween, the children enjoyed it.
They would run, screaming in terror one second then giggle the next,
quite enjoying the fear whilst knowing it was all imagined. Yet, he
knew he'd never convince himself. As a strongly religious man he
believed that Satan could reach people, just the same way that God
could. And what better place to reach a child, to sow a seed in the
mind, than when the child is fed corrupt and hideous images of death
and horror.....

"No," Arthur said sharply, returning from his thoughts with a snap.
Then calmer, conscious of his tone, he added, "Come on, that ride is
for the older children. Let's go and find something else. You wouldn't
like that ride."

"Oh, Granddad - lots of my friends have been on that ride. I'm not
scared anyway." Mary said, convincingly.

"Oh, please, Granddad!" Stephanie added.

"I'm afraid not, girls. Come on now, let's go and win one of those
cuddly bears for you, eh?" he said, softly, taking their hands and
hoping that with their backs turned they would forget about the ghost
train. For the next few seconds, Arthur could feel the sadness of his
granddaughters, and the loosened grip of hands that didn't want to be
held. The uncomfortable silence bore down upon him.
Kids, who knows how to please them?, he thought. So difficult to
predict, one minute happy, the next in tears.

"Tell you what, let's have another ride on the dodgems on the way,
shall we?" he tried.

"No.....I know, Granddad!", Stephanie uttered, a spark of inspiration
lifting her from her gloom, "Let's go and win those sparkly goldfish we
left behind!"

"Yes! That's what we can do!" Mary agreed, punching the air.

Brilliant, thought Arthur. They never let you get away with anything,
do they'
There was no way he would be let back in the house with goldfish,
Grandma would be on his back for being so soft and his daughter would
moan about getting them home in the car. That meant being the bad, mean
Grandfather again.
"I'm afraid not. I know it seems like I'm not letting you do anything,
but goldfish just aren't an option. You know how much trouble you'll be
in with Mum if you do," he said, then added feebly, "But you can do
anything else you like."

"We don't want to do anything else. That's the only two things we
wanted to do, Granddad." Mary replied, beginning to whine. Arthur felt
her hand pull away from his.

"Well, if you don't want to hold my hand, that's fine, young lady. We
can go home if you like, but I'm happy to do something else. It's up to
you and how you want to behave." Now he was becoming fed up with the
whole thing. At sixty, he felt like he could do without this.
"So what's it to be?" he said, turning to Mary.

Except, when he looked down, Mary wasn't there. Gripping Stephanie's
hand even tighter, he looked around. Panic hit him first, then anger.
Straining to focus, he saw her, running back the way they had come,
towards the ghost train. "Mary, come back here!" he shouted. The tone
of his voice was aggressive and its power stopped her, made her turn
and look back.
She knew she was in trouble, so she ran on anyway, sobbing towards the
ride. Her legs and body flailed like a scarecrow as the tears welled
up, impeding her motion.

"I'm goin' on it, Granddad, because I'm not scared, and I want to go on
it!" she cried between sobs, but he couldn't hear her.

His mind worked frantically, trying to form a plan but succeeding only
in confusing itself. She couldn't ride on her own, what would the
family say, when he got her home frightened and had to explain what had
happened? He started running, trying desperately to catch her before
she got to the ride but hampered by the lack-lustre pace of a miserable
Stephanie. Reaching down, he picked her up and ran with her, as fast as
he could manage, as she lolled over him like a rag-doll. But it was too
late! He closed in on Mary but she reached the waiting train before he
could grab her, and it had already started to move.

She couldn't go in on her own, not in the dark with those terrible
images. Not a seven year old girl, terrified and trapped on a dark
fairground ride with no-one to protect her. She couldn't go in on her
own!

Arthur fumbled in his pocket for change, throwing whatever coins he
could find into the toll-booth before leaping onto the train, still
holding Stephanie. Quickly placing her in the seat in front next to her
sister, he pulled the safety bar across and took the seat behind them.
As he did so, the front car of the train bumped the wooden double door
with the gaping, bloody orifice of teeth and gaping throat that
beckoned them in. Arthur looked back, anxiously - the train was empty
apart from them. They had the ride all to themselves.

Mary sat, her stare fixed in front of her, hoping that if she didn't
turn around and see her Granddad, he might not actually be there.
Sensing her fear, Stephanie held her hand, offering sisterly
reassurance. Neither was sure whether Granddad or the ride was the most
frightening. Ghost trains were new to them; the anticipation was
terrifying, the situation made it even more so. Even the innocent
mechanisms of the ride, the clanking and whirring of chains and tracks
and the lurch-and-bump motion of the carriages, brought the tense
atmosphere almost to bursting point.

"Just remember I'm here if you're scared. Mary, we'll deal with you
when we get off," Arthur said. Neither girl looked back, but in
expectation of the first ghoul, the sound of his voice made them jump
noticeably.

"Don't look at anything that scares you; just shut your eyes," he added
in a whispery voice, and the girls strained even more in their
seats.

The train chugged and lurched forwards as they reached the first
corner. Above them, a sign read "Gateway to Hell - DAMNATION AWAITS".
Arthur crossed himself and whispered something.
What kind of people create this so-called entertainment,' he thought,
shaking his head.
Around them, smoke began to billow as the train picked up speed,
raising the anticipation of the first scare. An eerie red and orange
glow, the supposed far-distant embers of Hell awaiting, warmed the
scene ahead, accompanied by the faint crackling of invisible coals from
an unseen speaker system. The train continued its acceleration,
reaching a steady speed that, in the confines of the ride, seemed
breakneck fast.
A sudden corner caught them by surprise, crashing them against the
carriage sides, Mary sliding into Stephanie so that they occupied the
same seat. Then, from somewhere to the left, a beastly shape swooped
from the darkness! Something hideous leapt towards them, a terrifying
bellow erupting from its gaping, slavering jaws. It fell towards them,
looming huge and then more so until, when believed it would surely
swallow them whole, some hidden mechanism halted it in the nick of
time.
The girls screamed in terror, clutching each other and feeling both
thumping hearts as they squeezed together. Arthur, who had never
experienced anything like this either, felt fear of a different
kind.
A low-pitched booming laugh echoed from all around them, taunting and
scornful of their terror. Arthur noticed his hands were firmly on the
safety bar, knuckles white against pink, sweating fingers; whether he
was looking for reassurance or trying to get out, he wasn't quite sure.
What he was sure of, though, was his contempt for this ride. It was
working its way inside his mind, he could feel it.
Onward they rolled, relentlessly through scene after scene, each more
horrific, each more corrupt. An inferno raged about them as they swept
past screaming souls in cauldrons of lava, boiled alive for their sins
by dark and cackling creatures. Demonic figures patrolled the skies
overhead, tridents whistling by as they stabbed the air, hungry for
fresh blood.

The girls whimpered occasionally, feeling both fear and excitement in
turns, but secretly part-wishing they had never joined the ride.

"Girls, it's only a silly ride. We'll be out soon enough," Granddad
said, softly. He leaned forward to touch their shoulders, just to let
them know he was still there. But he wasn't so sure himself. If I let
my imagination go, I could believe I was sailing the river Styx itself
straight into hell, he thought to himself, then cursed himself for even
thinking such a thing. No, it was a very frightening, very effective
but absurd ride, and they would be out soon.

But the train careered on, cornering fast then slow, swooping and
dipping like a crazed bird. The assault of fiends and spirits
continued, appearing from unseen cupboards and cavities, always
surprising them, always from somewhere unexpected. The onslaught was so
fierce that they hardly had time to remember that they were taking a
ride on a ghost train, that it was all a fantasy and a Halloween
farce.

"Close your eyes, girls! Don't look at the terrible things!" Granddad
called, but somehow, the terror drew them into its grip and they
continued to stare.

Surely we're near the end of the ride?, Arthur thought, seriously
considering how he might leave the ride to find their own way out. He
was beginning to lose his temper, not with the girls, though he cursed
their mistake, but with this damned so-called fun-fair ride!

"Granddad, why aren't we off yet? Why are we still going around?",
Stephanie whined, her fear of losing face by admitting her terror now
long-forgotten.

Another demon leapt at them from the roof. "Okay, that's enough!"
Arthur shouted to himself in a rage. But the fiendish mannequin swooped
lower still. Anticipation of it clearing their heads at the very last
second became terror as it continued its swoop. Arthur ducked,
simultaneously placing a hand on each of the girls heads and forcing
them down. When the light levels rose and they could see again, they
sat up, Arthur in total disbelief.

"Bloody Hell!", he swore, finally losing his temper. "What is this ride
supposed to be! It's bloody dangerous, that's what it is!" Then he
shouted, "Get us off this ride NOW!" at the top of his voice, sure that
whoever was running the ride would hear them. The next time he saw
daylight through the walls, or they saw those double doors again, he
was getting off, and that was that.

He hardly even noticed that the train had steadied, losing speed as a
fierce orange glow picked up to one side. The commotion, the demonic
screaming and cackling, died down in turn. Only the pulsating roar of a
furnace greeted their ears as the burnished coloured light warmed
around and above them.
Mary and Stephanie had noticed, though. No more swooping, terrible
creatures persecuted them, their fear gently subsiding as the light
glistened and heated their faces.
Arthur's gaze darted to the other side, oblivious and unconcerned with
lights and colours and beasts and terror. He looked for doors,
emergency exits and glints of sunlight through ride panels. The girls,
however, looked curiously at the guillotine on the opposite side,
manned by a demonic figure that was mechanically hauling the blade to
the very top of its oak housing. Around the figure were two twisted,
warty beasts holding a man by the arms, pushing his head through the
guillotine hole.

"Look at that, Stephanie," Mary pointed. "What are they doing to that
man?"

"They're chopping his head off, and I'm not watching," Stephanie said,
half-closing her eyes and screwing her face up. "I just want to go and
win a teddy bear and go home." She squeezed Mary's hand even tighter.
"Don't look Mary!" she added.

As her words trailed off, the train stopped with a jolt, crushing them
painfully against the safety bars.

"Right, we're getting off now!" Arthur growled, aware that if they
didn't react quickly, the ride might set off again. But before he could
move, the lights blinked then fizzled out, setting them amongst
darkness. Or, not quite darkness, for the focus was on the guillotine
which, once their eyes had adjusted to the gloom, wore a halo of dusky
red radiance.

Tracks and motors clanked their last.

Silence.

The girls watched for the briefest of moments that seemed, yet, to last
for an age. The blade began to fall, silently, scything the air as it
went, slicing faster and ever closer to the back of the neck of that
man, that poor man, who crouched awaiting its deadly touch.
Then when they thought it would never, ever fall that far, a scream,
chilling and sharp then gurgling and thick, of blood and bile and
death, resounded about them for seconds as the silent blade came to
rest, knowing nothing of its duty.
The lights brightened, ever so slowly, like a lazy summer dawn.

"I felt it! I felt like I was right there!" Mary cried, unsure of
something that was disturbing her mind, something she couldn't
pinpoint, except for it was causing the oddest, darkest feeling to rise
in her.

"Did you feel the blood? Did you hear the scream? It was horrible!"
Stephanie shivered.

Then she pointed, her eyes wide at her observation. "Look, the man in
the guillotine! He's wearing the same clothes as Granddad!"

"Look, Granddad!" they cried, turning around.