These aren't the stories your mother told you.

No, these are the other stories.

Of theme parks and dragons, written by Daniel Wilcox, narrated by Paulina Logan.

When I was five years old, my grandfather took me to my first theme park, a big neon sign arcing the entrance that read Jimmy's world of

fun, the sounds of screaming kids. I'll be honest, standing there holding my grandfather's hand,

it was one of the most terrifying feelings of my life. Ready to have some fun, kiddo, my grandfather

leaning down to my level, causing every bone in his back to crack,

the locket that my grandmother once gave him around his neck, a golden sigil of a dragon on an

oval of metal. I nodded. Even back then, I always knew when to lie. But the day wasn't half as

bad as I had expected. Of course, at five, I couldn't make my way

onto the loopers or the super spinners, but I had a blast riding the log flumes, the teacups, and the go-carts.

My grandfather sat beside me on every single ride, and it's only now that I look back several

years after his death that I realize how hard that must have been

for him.

He had been 85 back then, had suffered from arthritis and died from a stroke not a year later.

Every single bump, whirl, and knock must have shot through his body like glass in a tumble

dryer.

I'll testament to just how much he loved his granddaughter, I guess.

It's all because of my grandfather that I became such a theme park enthusiast.

I became such a grown up. Compared to the other kids in my school, I'm pretty fucking mature. They mock and laugh at me for my adrenaline junkie

ways, but I hardly give a shit. To honor grandfather's memory, my mother organizes trips for me to visit

theme parks as often as possible. She's now so far down the rabbit hole of her own illnesses that she can

...