A Ticket to the Fair

The crowd bustles past me. I stand here taking in the noise and blur of people rushing by. In front of me stands this giant sign pointing to the fair behind a grand fence. The iron work on the fence was beautiful and when the sun hit it, it shimmered like gold. I try to remember how I got there, but can’t put my finger on it. I start moving with the crowd that begins to filter into a line. Ahead I see another sign, “Please have your ticket ready for the attendant.” 

My hands immediately drops to my pants pockets. 

Oh no. Where is it?

I can’t even remember how I got here. I try to rack my brain. I need that ticket. I need to get into the fair. Where is my ticket? 

I notice every one around me has their ticket in their hand. I start asking people around me where they got theirs, but they just stare at me vacantly. I close my eyes and hear metal scraping and screeching. My eyes snapped opened. 

What was that?

I step out of place in line and everyone promptly moves up one pace. I then notice how quiet it’s gotten. There are no yelps of delight from children riding rides on the other side of the fence. The sun has hidden itself behind dull, grey clouds. I head towards the front, pushing into people aside. 

I just need one ticket. But why? I can’t remember why this is so important. I get to the ticket counter and the attendant peers at me over his spectacles. The name Peter was etched on his name tag in gold script. 


“No, I don’t have a ticket. I don’t remember having one. I can’t remember how I got here.”

He considers this and simply says, “It’s not your time.”

Things go dark and I wake up to a man in a white coat staring at me with wide eyes, “She’s awake! Emily, do you know where you are?”

“…the fair?”

“No, you’re in the hospital, sweetheart. You were in an accident. A drunk driver hit you head on. You’ve been in a coma for days. We were worried we were going to lose you.”

I guess that’s why I couldn’t find my ticket to the fair. 


Dear Hater,

A while ago, I had a semi-successful blog that I posted in weekly about my life and dating and general “let’s figure this shit out” things. This was one of the few outlets I had and it was exhilarating to be able to express myself in a creative way and connect with so many different walks of life literally all over the world. 

After some issues at work (thanks to you) with my blog, I opted to take it down. After all, it was definitely encouraged as well as suggested that if I didn’t my career would not progress. What really gets me is that you went out of your way to be offended by it and take it to my superiors because… why? I have no idea. I didn’t talk about anything erotic and I for sure didn’t talk about my job. Hell, I never even mentioned it. Yet it still came around to be a roadblock in my career. Glad you got your dose of satisfaction. 

Well, this blog doesn’t have my name and I certainly won’t disclose my location. If you think this letter is about you, well, you know what they say about if the shoe fits…