Microfiction Day 81 – Fairground Rides

The day of the fire was the worst day of her life.

Not because anyone was hurt. The fairground had been abandoned for years, left to rust and rot at the hands of the elements. Sometimes she would walk past on a windy day and briefly think that the rain had turned red before she realised it was flakes of the rides landing on her skin.

But the fire had burned all of her memories of the fair. Her first dare. Her first cigarette. Her first kiss.

All turned to ash and twisted hot metal, a childhood in the embers.