Short Story.... Brian

Found this....  I wrote it for a class assignment; it is fiction, but I have been in similar situations...  anyone with children has probably lived through this once or twice!

My heart jumped inside my chest, pounding.  He was gone.  I barely turned around.  The sounds of the crowd and the machines blended together and fell away, all I could hear was my heart BOOM, BOOM, BOOM.  My head was spinning.  Think.  Where would he go; the giant slide; maybe the carousel?  Slowly the noises around me came back into focus; the whirling of the giant motor next to me and the laughs and screams of the children on the Tilt-A-Whirl were almost deafening now.  

Don’t panic.  I took a deep breath; it tasted of dust and smelled like French fries.  I started to run for the slide, he had really enjoyed the slide.  The line for the round up was in the way, I pushed through, running, I then tripped over a black hose.  I could taste the blood from my lip.  I didn’t even care about the dirt now covering the front of my shirt.  I got up and continued running.  Jumping the hoses and barely missing the side of the trash can, I turned a corner to the giant slide.  

The slide was full of small children waiting in line, each with an old burlap sack about their shoulders.  The stairs to the top were steep; I looked up and saw that he was not there, nor in the line of squirming kids, no red jackets.  My heart raced once again, where could he be?    I looked around, no signs of him, no little boys in red.  

I start to run once again, this time to the carousel.  I can see the horses, slowly moving up and down while happy music plays in the background; still no boy.   I turn to the little cars honking and buzzing as small boys play with the buttons and sound the sirens as they slowly turn a circle.  For an instant I think I have found him, but it is another boy, in a red baseball jacket.  I can taste the salty tears that have run down my cheek.  I didn’t even know I was crying.   

Finally, I scream, “Brian, Brian!” as I continue to wander through the kiddie rides.  I can feel the looks from parents and children as I walk through desperate and covered in dirt.  Then, through all the laughter, screaming, and machines I hear a small voice. 

“I in here sissy.”

“In where?” I yell back, to nowhere in particular.

“The bouncy” the small voice replies without worry.

I calmly walk to the little red bounce house in the shape of a chicken.  Brian’s little Diago sneakers are lying on the ground next to the bench.  I collapse against the side.  The plastic feels cool and soothing.  My head hurts.  My lip begins to pound.  I now realize that I have blood running down my chin.  He’s OK.  Everything is OK.  I am going to kill him.