Multigenerational
There was no number on the next bus. Jack stepped back. He expected it to pass by, headed for the depot. But it stopped in front of him.
The doors wheezed open.
The sun shone in Jack's face. He couldn't see the driver.
"Hop on, son," a voice said.
"This is the wrong bus," Jack said. "I need the Number 26."
"This will do. Hop on, Jawbreaker."
Jawbreaker! Jack raced up the stairs. "Grandpa!"
The stage beneath her began to turn, and then suddenly it was not a stage, but a carousel populated by wolves and wild dogs and other dark beasts. They were fixed in place on the carousel, and yet somehow they were alive, roaring and howling as the carousel spun faster and faster through the darkness. The bench she'd been sitting on had become a vicious hound. It yapped and growled as she clung to its black fur in terror.
