June 10, 2026

Main Attraction
​by Lori D’Angelo

​A mysterious carousel promises riders a glimpse into their past. No one gets off unchanged.

Click here to listen to this story on the Kaidankai Podcast.



The poster said, “Experience the thrill of your life,” and it didn’t lie. People came from near and far to tempt fate and feel the magic.
One reason that people loved the carousel was that it could take you back — to an important moment in your life. The catch was you couldn’t decide when or where. It could be a great moment or a terrible one. You were left to the mercy of the machine.
Though some people said it was more than a machine, those accusations were never proven. Or maybe we didn’t want them to be proven. If something nefarious was at work, it was possible that the ride could be shut down, gone the way of those stick to the wall thrill rides that were popular but taken out of many amusement parks because they were deemed to be unsafe. In one incident, a band snapped and a woman lost her leg. Imagine having to tell that story. You went to the park for a thrill and ended up losing a limb.
It’s not like we didn’t know the danger, but the risk was part of the thrill. Why do people still do go cave diving, base jumping, or motorbike racing? It’s not because it’s safe. When people don’t face external threats, they tend to create them, for the fun.
Think of those who seek the hottest peppers, the scariest movies, the darkest cemeteries late at night. They don’t do it because they want an activity that is low-risk. They do it because the fear, the danger, makes them feel more alive.
Did you know that people don’t just go on game shows for the money? Most contestants will lose. But they want the experience, the adrenaline rush. Even if they go away with nothing more than they came in with.
The problem with the carousel ride was while you could come out with some kind of happier resolution, you could also come out worse off than before.
Once, when a junior high school student attempted to ask the Creator what the carousel was, the Creator responded, “Curiosity killed the cat.”
But the kid, who would go on to become a world famous researcher later in life, shot back, “No, it didn’t. Rat poison killed the cat. And who laid the rat poison? The owner who valued the extermination of rodents more than he valued the life of the cat. Curiosity didn’t kill the cat. Humanity did.”
“My, my, aren’t you clever?” The Creator replied. He didn’t look like the benevolent philanthropist he appeared to be, with all those donations to the Rotary Club and the 4H. Instead, he looked like a cartoon villain, a real-life Mr. Burns. The kids on that trip would remember, and none of the ones in that class ever rode the carousel again, even when tempted and plodded and prodded by lovers, relatives, and friends.
“Sometimes, when an illusion is shattered, it can never be repaired,” said one of the students, Li Yun, in an interview with the Normal Town Local History Museum.
It was for the town’s 250 year anniversary. It featured the town’s main attractions, and one of them was, of course, the carousel.
Though some town members had their reservations, including the descendants of the founders, no one dared suggesting that they shut the ride down.
“It’s creepy,” declared Ellen Little, the town’s full-time librarian and part-time dog groomer.
“That may be, but,” said Tom Grandiose, who represented the South River District, “that ride brings in hundreds of thousands of dollars in tourist revenue.”
“Before the carousel, the town was on the verge of extinction,” argued Betty Lou Reed, who represented the East Arlington District.
Jilly Jean liked to take the concerns of local residents seriously, but even she sided with The Creator, against the complaints of Ellen Little.
“If it wasn’t for the Creator, we wouldn’t have been able to build the community center, the homeless shelter, or the free for all daycare,” Jilly Jean said.
“That’s true,” Ellen Little acknowledged. “But at what cost?”
The cost to Brenda Green was enormous. The day she relived was that of her father’s death. Only now, because she could see more clearly with adult eyes, she understood the lie that her mother had told her. He hadn’t died from a fall. Instead, what had killed him was a self-inflicted gunshot wound.
“Don’t tell Brenda,” the suicide note said. “It would destroy her.”
“How was your ride?” the after survey asked.
Too stunned to say anything else, Brenda Bo replied, “It was eye opening.”
Then Brenda went home and took her father’s gun and shot herself.
Mary Riddle, on the other hand, discovered that the man who had left her hadn’t done so out of want but rather out of need. He had no choice.
She sought him out and found that he was still alive but not really living. Money hadn’t brought him happiness. He was now an older Ethan Frome version of herself. This didn’t bring her the comfort that she sought. Instead, now when she thought of James, she didn’t feel the hatred that had motivated her to achieve everything she had attained. Instead, she felt sad.
Another woman, who traveled from Korea, rode the carousel and discovered what had become of her little brother, the one who screamed so much. He hadn’t died of Sudden Infant Death Syndrome as the authorities claimed.
Instead, her mother, the one who had never been stable to begin with, had purposely placed him in the crib in a position that made it difficult for him to breathe. She left him cry and cry until the room was filled with a deadly silence.
Unlike Brenda, she left the ride screaming. But that didn’t deter the crowds. The lines didn’t die down. Instead they just got longer.
In the note she wrote for the town’s 250 year exhibit, Ellen Little said, “The town isn’t economically depressed anymore. Now, the only depression is spiritual.”
But her note was overshadowed by large pictures and propaganda posters of the Carousel.
After all, the Creator was a museum donor.
“Oh, the fun you will have,” the posters proclaimed.
But if you looked at the posters closely, it was difficult to tell if the riders were laughing or crying.
It wouldn’t have mattered anyway. No matter what people said, the majority of people wouldn’t be satisfied until they experienced the ride themselves.
“It’ll be a scream,” the ride’s heart attack warning proclaimed.
Just outside the ride, there was a gift shop. One of the gift shop’s most popular items was T-shirts. But the second most popular item was an over-the-counter anti-anxiety medication manufactured by the local drug company. The Creator was among those who sat on the company’s board of directors.
The company’s internal slogan was said to be: “We don’t solve problems, we create them.”
Ellen Little had her own response, she led dog yoga and mindfulness retreats on her 40-acre farm.
The retreats were growing in popularity, despite the fact that she wasn’t allowed to hang up fliers for them at any business that had any affiliation with the creator, and that was everywhere, except the Wiccan coffee shop on 5th and Main.
A big chain tried to buy the shop, but the owner, Molly Mayflower, a psychic seer, wasn’t selling.
Literally, channeling Charlton Heston, Molly said, “From my cold dead hands.”
If the Creator had his way, her death would come sooner rather than later.

                                                                💀💀💀

Lori D'Angelo, a two-time Pushcart nominee, is the author of a short story collection, "The Monsters Are Here," which was published in 2024 by ELJ Editions. For more information about her, see her website at lori.dangelo.com. 
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