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.