Fallen storyman gasps, passes, and dies. The Green Machine struck, hit, killed. Fun rides are finished, concluded, have ceased. But the final ride is ridden, finished, completed. Last streetcar retired, removed, replaced.
Familiar lift is gone, vanished, defeated.
Illinois boy stands, stares, weeps. The once-friendly ravine yields, reveals, uncovers the murdered girl, now covered, carried, and buried. Mythical safety evaporates, dissolves, suffers. A hundred hopes were needed, yearned for, did hunger. But a thousand blows fall, strike, find.