“There’s no line!” Margo pulled Adina’s hand with one of hers and pointed with the other. “Let’s hurry!”
Adina followed Margo’s finger, shielding her eyes from the sun. It’s been a long day already and they’d only gotten in a little over an hour ago. The drive. The stops. The lines for the tickets. The lines for the entrance. The lines for the bathroom. The lines to the lines …
Her eyes met the target.
What was that!?
A contraption rose ahead, metal-barred and plastic-sheathed, crisscrossed with steps and zigzagged horrors.
“Come on!” Margo danced on the balls of her feet, ecstatic.
Adina felt the hotdog that she didn’t even eat yet threaten a revisit.
No way she was going up that thing. Nope. Ain’t gonna happen.
“Must be a reason no one’s there,” she tried.
“Yeah! Because it is ‘by reservation.’ Aren’t you glad I called ahead and made one?”
For Crispina’s Crimson’s Creative Challenge
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