Back story: Last year we went to Disney for my husband's 40th birthday. O was the only one who was brave enough to go on the Tower of Terror ride with her daddy. The story she wrote is of the internal struggle that went on while she waited in line. She is an amazing young author and I look forward to all the amazing things she will write in future.
Line of Terror
"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!" CHUG, CHUG CHUG!! in perfect harmony was all I heard as the Tower of Terror's elevator fell at lightening speed.
"Why are you doing this Olivia? I know you are scared. You should just back out,"my mind whispered.
"Shut up" I telepathically retorted.
"Please tell me," my mind begged.
"I am doing this for my dad so SHUT UP!" I shrieked at my mind.
"Seriously, he said it didn't matter. He just won't go," my mind said in such an uncaring tone. I wanted to punch it.
"If I back out dad wouldn't go on his favorite ride in Disney and it would be all my fault. Just let me think without you disturbing my thoughts," I told my mind and it let me be.
I shivered. A breeze had blown through the trees and tiny droplets of rain water splashed on my arms, head, and neck. Goosebumps rode down my arms like knights riding into battle. The line moved forward and I took a step to follow. I shivered again. This time because I realized I wasn't just scared, I was wet-my-pants frightened! I knew this wasn't a line to a ride...I was walking to my doom. The line moved forward and I followed it. I positioned my hand next to dad's and clenched it.
"You O.K.?" dad asked concerned.
"Yea, I'm fine," I muttered and zoned out on the world around me.
"Ahhhh!" I still heard the screams, but muffled now. I placed my left foot in front of me and dragged my right foot up to meet it.
"He, he, I just know you don't have the guts to ride the Tower of Terror," my mind whispered smugly. As I took a step forward, a tear trickled down my cheek. I knew deep down that my mind was right. I didn't have the guts. Still, I wanted to prove my mind wrong, and most of all, I didn't want to let my dad down. I clenched my fist, my left hand still clutching dad's right hand.
"You are SO wrong. I will do this for my dad no matter what!" my inner-self screamed at my mind.
"Lies, all lies," my mind jeered, but a little bit of cockiness left it's thought wave.
"BACK OFF!" I thought-yelled.
Then dad asked, "you ready to ride?"
"Say no and leave!" my mind said as it tried to push it's power into my brain.
"I thought I told you to back off," I scolded my mind. Then I lied to dad and said, "Yep dad, I'm pumped!" I did not expect what came out of his mouth next.
"That's good then because we are the next ones to go on," he said in cheery tones. My heart dropped into my shoes. I had been so concentrated on arguing with my mind, I hadn't noticed we were in the elevator room. Right now, backing out seemed like an O.K. idea.
"Tell your dad you can't do it. It's your last chance," my mind hurriedly told me.
"CHUUUUUuuuug!" the ride stopped and the occupants got off.
"NO!!!" I shouted to my mind. Before I changed my mind I stepped into the elevator, climbed up to the top row, and with my knees shaking uncontrollably I sat down on the hard black plastic seat and got buckled.
I felt trapped. I thought of all the ways I would die. Maybe a gear or rope would break and we would be on our way up so we would be catapulted through the roof of the ride. Or the elevator would start rocking back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. Then a gear or rope will snap. The elevator would pop out of the shaft and plummet down on top of some tourists.
The Tower of Terror lurched upwards and I was snapped out of my daze.
"I am going to die," I said in a matter-of-fact tone.
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