Page 65 of The Scrooge Effect

The Eiffel Tower shone in the background, and the French language filled my ears as people walked past in their fancy clothes and snooty attitudes. I spun around, hoping to walk right back through, but the door was gone.

“Regarde l’Américain,” a woman scoffed.

“Yes! American! What am I doing here?”

“Ils ne savent jamais parler français.”

“Aucun sens de la mode non plus.” They both laughed at me, walking away without another word.

“That’s fine! Don’t help the lost American! You know what? We beat you in the Quasi-War, and we’ll beat you again!”

People shot me dirty looks as I passed, but nobody stopped to help. Not that I would either if I saw someone ranting and raving in the streets.

With nowhere to go, I ran for the nearest door. If I got here by running through a door, maybe all I had to do was run through another. I pulled open the shop door and gasped when I was suddenly flying through the air. A man hanging from a trapeze came rushing toward me, and I held out my hands at the last second, screaming as his hands clutched mine.

Chest heaving, I looked into the crowd and laughed that I had actually survived that.

For two seconds.

His hands released mine, and I went flying again, only this time, there was no one to catch me. I screamed as my body suddenly lost momentum and I went crashing toward the ground. My arms and legs wound like a whirlwind, trying to grasp anything so I didn’t plummet to my death.

I had just a split second to look over my shoulder and see the net waiting for me. But when I hit it, I was no longer in the circus. I landed with a thud on the deck of a boat.

Groaning, I rolled over and looked around for any signs of human life. But there was no one here. I was alone in the middle of a lake.

“Ridiculous,” I muttered under my breath. At least I wasn’t flying through the air anymore.

Heading for the wheel, I was just about to figure out how the damn boat worked when I saw a fishing pole dangling over the side, just waiting for someone to go fishing.

It had been years since I’d taken a moment to myself on the lake. In fact, it had probably been since I was in the military. I looked around, making sure there was no one using the pole, then picked it up and got comfortable on a chair that suddenly appeared.

The sun shone brightly on my face, warming every inch of me. This was the good stuff. The peace of being on the water was something I wanted to experience with my family.

I chuckled at how ironic it was that I was stuck in the most terrifying dream of my life, yet I was on a boat, fishing. A strong tug pulled on the line, and I leapt forward, grinning from ear to ear as I imagined all the different kinds of fish that might be on the other end.

Whatever it was, the fucker was strong. I jolted forward, slamming into the rail as I struggled to keep hold of the fishing pole. But I was no match for the beast on the other end. With one strong tug, I nearly had it, and then I was yanked from the boat, straight into the murky depths of the lake.

My eyes widened in horror as I saw a shark swimming nearby. That wasn’t right. I was in a lake. There were no sharks⁠—

The beast turned on me, his beady eyes headed straight for me. I gasped, sucking in a gulp of water just as his jaws opened and his teeth clamped down on my arm. I screamed, tugging ruthlessly on the line, hoping it would somehow pull me away.

Blood pooled in the water around me, fogging up the water.

“Help!” I shouted as the water swallowed me whole.

The shark turned and headed back in my direction, and with the line caught on his body, he pulled me right to him.

My body rushed through the water at a dizzying speed⁠—

And then fresh air filled my lungs as my body was flung forward. I held on tight to the reel, only to realize I no longer had a fishing pole in my hands.

It was a rope.

And I was on the back of a bull.

“Holy sh⁠—”

The bull bucked me forward, nearly sending me right into his horns. I held on for dear life as the bull jumped around, and the crowd went wild.