The Black Ferris by Ray Bradbury
The carnival had come to town like an October wind, like a dark bat flying over the cold lake, bones rattling in the night, mourning, sighing, whispering up the tents in the dark rain. It stayed on for a month by the gray, restless lake of October, in the black weather and increasing storms and leaden skies.
During the third week, at twilight on a Thursday, the two small boys walked along the lakeshore in the cold wind.
"Aw, I don t believe you," said Peter.
"Come on, and I ll show you," said Hank.
They left wads of spit behind them all along the moist brown sand of the crashing shore. They ran to the lonely carnival grounds. It had been raining. The carnival lay by the sounding lake with nobody buying tickets from the flaky black booths, nobody hoping to get the salted hams from the whining roulette wheels, and none of the thin-fat freaks on the big platforms. The midway was silent, all the gray tents hissing on the wind like gigantic prehistoric wings. At eight o clock perhaps, ghastly lights would flash on, voices would shout, music would go out over the lake. Now there was only a blind hunchback sitting on a black booth, feeling of the cracked china cup from which he was drinking some perfumed brew.
"There," said Hank, pointing.
The black Ferris wheel rose like an immense light-bulbed constellation against the cloudy sky, silent.
"I still don t believe what you said about it," said Peter.
"You wait, I saw it happen. I don't know how, but it did. You know how carnivals are; all funny. Okay; this one's even funnier."
Peter let himself be led to the high green hiding place of a tree.
Suddenly, Hank stiffened. "Hist! There's Mr. Cooger, the carnival man, now!" Hidden, they watched.
Mr. Cooger, a man of some thirty-five years, dressed in sharp bright clothes, a lapel carnation, hair greased with oil, drifted under the tree, a brown derby hat on his head. He had arrived in town three weeks before, shaking his brown derby hat at people on the street from inside his shiny red Ford, tooting the horn.
Now Mr. Cooger nodded at the little blind hunchback, spoke a word. The hunchback blindly, fumbling, locked Mr. Cooger into a black seat and sent him whirling up into the ominous twilight sky. Machinery hummed.
"See!" whispered Hank. "The Ferris wheel's going the wrong way. Backward instead of forward!"
"So what?" said Peter.
"Watch!"
The black Ferris wheel whirled twenty-five times around. Then the blind hunchback put out his pale hands and halted the machinery. The Ferris wheel stopped, gently swaying, at a certain black seat.
A ten-year-old boy stepped out. He walked off across the whispering carnival ground, in the shadows.
Peter almost fell from his limb. He searched the Ferris wheel with his eyes. "Where's Mr. Cooger?"
Hank poked him. "You wouldn't believe! Now see!"
"Where's Mr. Cooger at!"
"Come on, quick, run!" Hank dropped and was sprinting before he hit the ground.
Under giant chestnut trees, next to the ravine, the lights were burning in Mrs. Foley s white mansion. Piano music tinkled. Within the warm windows people moved. Outside, it began to rain, despondently, irrevocably, forever and ever.
"I m so wet," grieved Peter, crouching in the bushes. "Like someone squirted me with a hose. How much longerdo we wait?"
"Ssh!" said Hank, cloaked in wet mystery.
They had followed the little boy from the Ferris wheel up through town, down dark streets to Mrs. Foley's ravine house. Now, inside the warm dining room of the house, the strange little boy sat at dinner, forking and spooning rich lamb chops and mashed potatoes.
"I know his name," whispered Hank quickly. "My mom told me about him the other day. She said, 'Hank, you hear about the li'l orphan boy moved in Mrs. Foley's? Well, his name is Joseph Pikes and he just came to Mrs. Foley's one day about two weeks ago and said how he was an orphan run away and could he have something to eat, and him and Mrs. Foley been getting on like hot apple pie ever since.' That's what my mom said," finished Hank, peering through the steamy Foley window. Water dripped from his nose. He held on to Peter, who was twitching with cold. "Pete, I didn't like his looks from the first, I didn't. He looked -- mean."
"I'm scared," said Peter, frankly wailing. "I'm cold and hungry and I don't know what this's all about."
"Gosh, you're dumb!" Hank shook his head, eyes shut in disgust. "Don't you see, three weeks ago the carnival came. And about the same time this little ole orphan shows up at Mrs. Foley's. And Mrs. Foley's son died a long time ago one night one winter, and she's never been the same, so here's this little ole orphan boy who butters her all around." "Oh," said Peter, shaking.
"Come on," said Hank. They marched to the front door and banged the lion knocker.
After a while the door opened and Mrs. Foley looked out.
"You're all wet, come in," she said. "My land." She herded them into the hall. "What do you want?" she said,bending over them, a tall lady with lace on her full bosom and a pale thin face with white hair over it. "You're Henry Walterson, aren't you?"
Hank nodded, glancing fearfully at the dining room, where the strange little boy looked up from his eating. "Can we see you alone, ma'am?" And when the old lady looked palely surprised, Hank crept over and shut the hall door and whispered at her. "We got to warn you about something, it s about that boy come to live with you, that orphan...
Robert Lawrence Stine started writing when he was nine years old, writing joke books for his friends at school — and hes been writing ever since. He has always loved to write funny stuff and make kids laugh. For ten years, he was editor of a humor magazine called
Bananas. Later he was head writer for a funny Nickelodeon TV show, Eurekas Castle. In 1992 R.L. wrote his first
Goosebumpsbook, Welcome to Dead House he wrote 87
Goosebumpstitles, which were funny and scary at the same time. The books sold over 250 million copies and led to the hit TV show on Fox Kids Television and lots of bestselling DVDs and videos. R.L. also wrote the story for the cool 4-D movie thats showing at Busch Gardens and Sea World called R.L. Stines Haunted Lighthouse.
R.L. Stine is proudest of the millions of kids who have learned to love reading through his books. His other series include Fear Street, The Nightmare Room, and Mostly Ghostly. R.L. likes to travel, visit schools, and talk about reading. He set up writing workshops in several schools in his hometown of Columbus, Ohio. He even traveled to Russia with First Lady Laura Bush to talk to Russian kids in schools about books and reading.
R.L. Stine has won numerous awards and honors, including several Nickelodeon Kids' Choice Awards and Disney AdventuresKids' Choice Awards, and he has been selected by kids as one of their favorite authors in the National Education Association Read Across America.
R.L. Stine lives in NYC with his wife Jane. Their son Matt Stine and nephew Cody Stine (along with friend Liz Weinberg) wrote and performed the official Rah Rah Rotten School" song. This year R.L. will be traveling around the country, meeting and talking to kids about the Rotten Schoolbooks in schools and bookstores. To find out where you can see him, check out www.rlstine.com- and look for places near your hometown.
Rotten Schoolis R.L. Stine's latest creation a hilarious new chapter book series for middle-grade readers.