#& its the name of a russian river but she picked it because it sounds cool and rhymes with her real name

[w98pops]

lovelovelove volga!!!!! QUESTION he loves his father but how does he feel about his mom? I assume wendy is his mom ofc, sorry if shes not

Volga doesn't know they have a mom. He never asked dad, and just assumed Nico gave birth to them himself, like Papa (Yes, everything about Khans in my lore is shamelessly stolen from @papakhan's blog. Everything he posts is automatically canon in my drawings). Volga doesn't know cis men can't get pregnant 😭😭😭

I think Volga would've hated her if he knew. Wendy is too much like her father in her later years. An unwinnable battle. I will maybe expand on it with some drawings in the future!

[strcwbcy]

The Soldier Who Had No Soul

‘And thus, she realised that he too was frozen in an age that had passed him by, forgotten by anyone who might once have held him dear.’

A fairytale set in the Soviet wasteland of 1933; a young witch stumbles across a yugoslav soldier frozen in time, escaped from the palace of the white tsar. When he collapses, the witch must go to the palace of the white tsar in order to save her friend's soul.

A fairytale I wrote in @katabasiss’ inbox at 4am. It is also available on wattpad and inkitt

It all started in 1933, when a Russian witch fell passionately in love with a Yugoslavian member of the people's army

She had lived for 200 years, but with the age progression of her kind she matched his maturity perfectly.

She found him while she was wandering through the woods looking for mandrake, and she found the shape of his body in the logs downstream. At first she thought he was dead. This didn't depress her, in fact at first she thought of the possibilities, of what potions she hadn't made in decades.

But as she reached out to touch him, his eyes burst open. She found she could not kill him, not least of all because he was possessing of a gun, and cool dark eyes that didn't dare underestimate her.

With the knowledge that she couldn't exactly kill him, she took the soldier to her cottage in the woods. She touched him gently, but even as she helped him he never once trusted her. When they reached the house she searched until she found some clothes belonging to her late father.

Although the soldier was freezing, he regarded her with those same cool eyes and said 'I will not wear them. They may be poisoned.'

Reluctantly she admitted that she had not had the foresight of a visitor and thus had not poisoned them. To prove it she touched it to his fingertips, promising that if it was poisoned she could amputate the finger.

And because he was dying from hypothermia, his lips cracked and bloody, he finally pulled it on.

After a bit of silence she finally managed to get him to reveal that he was an escapee, from a palace in the north of Siberia, where the sun had not shown for 20 years and where the crops had turned coal black. He had been captured in 1914 by a mysterious tsar of snow white eyes and fingertips stained blue with lack of love.

The witch listened, and although she didn't exactly feel sympathy or a desire to keep him alive, she found herself curious at a man like this; frozen in time like herself. Upon further asking, she quietly realised that he too was frozen in an age that had passed him by, forgotten by anyone who might once have held him dear. Grieved by those who saw not his face.

And thus, when the man stood to make his leave, the witch stepped in front of the door. She didn't know exactly what possessed her, but she asked for him to stay. He was too sickly to survive the winter, she said. When he gave her a look of suspicion, she said, 'If I had wanted to kill you I would have'

And so he stayed.

-

The months passed, and the man's body returned to him. He had evidently been strong and handsome before the tsar had captured him, and although he held some of it when she'd found him, he had clearly wasted away.

As his strength returned, so did his kindness. He began to trust her. But the witch found herself faced with a quiet unease whenever he talked to her in the quiet voice that sometimes possessed him, a voice that could only belong to the northern parts of the world where sunlight exists only in dreams. Whenever he looked at her with a silence that left the witch feeling odd.

It was on a quiet night that the young witch watched him. As he watched the fire, his voice was as dead and grey as gunpowder. It was when he looked at her that she realised what was wrong with him- he didn't have a soul.

The witch didn't know how to deal with this information. She had been on her own for years, had wandered among townships rarely, and had known the animals of the wood like she knew her own name. Still, the lack of soul felt toxic and ugly. She knew that he missed it, but didn't know if he knew it himself.

Then just as she was beginning to wonder if it even mattered at all, the young soldier, now fit and young and handsome, keeled over into unconsciousness

He didn't wake up, even after hours passed. The land of the frozen tsar had stolen his soul, but the land had filled that hole with ice and cold as a temporary seal. Now that he was free, the ice had thawed and left behind nothing.

With her friend on the verge of death, the witch found herself unable to stomach the concept of a world without him. Those long forgotten potions seemed now ugly and corrupted, and the witch knew that the only thing she could do was save him. In the dead of night, when the young soldier was tucked beneath the bedsheets, with hot coals burning hopefully by his body-their flame protected by a spell- the witch packed her bags and fled toward the dark.

-

It had been years since she had entered this world, and the world had long since changed. The hair and skirts were shorter, even in certain places in the countryside. The women were louder, although their hands still carried the weight of work

The witch avoided these women, for once holding a deep fear for that which she didn't know. Instead she kept her mind on what she had to find. She didn't stop walking until she reached a river between the towns. Ducked deep between two rocks, she came across a rusalka tucked beneath the river. 'What are you doing out here, so far from the forest?' the witch said, recognising her own.

'I could ask the same of you,' the rusalka said; gliding a comb of fish bone through her sea of black hair. 'The men come here wondering at the sight of elusive flesh. You have missed much, my sister of the darker lives'

'I seek to help a friend of mine. Have you heard the name of the white tsar?'

With that the rusalka's eyes did change, flickering for a moment into viciousness. 'What is in your bag, sister?' the witch's food was mostly eaten, replaced by only rusk and cheese. Aside from it lay a comb, a stocking and a piece of string. The rusalka took a moment before she smiled, a flash of all her sharp white teeth. 'I will help you, but those of our kind believe in payment. 'Take the comb into the town and tell them that it is mine. They will know me'

If this were another story, perhaps the witch would have paused in face of the truth she knew. Perhaps she would have found a kinder way, a way of morals. But she was a witch of the darker life, and metal can only bend so far. Indeed, the witch didn't even hesitate as she led a man from the village back to the place where he would perish. She watched from the woods as the rusalka satisfied her hunger, as she tore the man beneath the lake. She was clean as she worked, sharp gleams of red appearing and then disappearing beneath the riot of the stream

Finally the rusalka appeared, her eyes bright and friendly. 'I am ready to help you, sister.' The witch sat beside her kin.

'Tell me of the white tsar. Tell me how to find him.'

The kindness in the rusalka's eyes flickered as she thought of all the cold things in the world. 'The white tsar lives in a country of ice. The crops bloom grey and lifeless. They say the rivers are thick and green with the sorrow of his people. They say he will consume the souls of those he takes into his possession'

'Please,' the witch said, 'Tell me where to find him.'

The rusalka merely smiled sadly. 'I am sorry, but you know I cannot do that. Travel, my sister, and you will find him'

The witch felt anger in her breast, but knew that she could not argue. These were creatures like her. They lived outside the kindness of our own, in a kindness of their own types of limitations. So the witch carried on. She carried on until she came across a marsh a way out from another small town. She knew before she arrived that she would find one of her own.

-

She came across a vodyanoi, a man with scales upon his body, his face bloated and frog-like, his hands webbed. But a deep sadness rested in his eyes. 'Why do you cry, my brother of the waters? Why do you wander so close to those who are unlike us?'

The vodyanoi's voice came, deep and unpredictable and terrible, 'I have been alone a long time, my earthen kin. I seek for them and yet they fear me, my bloated face, my wretched hands. I have an empty ache in me, for a companion to keep me happy.' The witch regarded him sadly. 'Can you tell me about the white tsar?'

For a moment his sadness seemed to double, and the witch paused at the sharp burst of regret. 'Open your bag, i will see if you can pay me.'

The witch did so and the creature picked up the single stocking. 'I will help you, for your payment. Take the stocking to the town, and use it as a leash. Bring me anything, anything as company'

The witch did so, knowing that she could not give him just anything. To her luck, however, she came across an old woman with too many infants to love. She picked one up, and noted that it its lips were blue with cold and its cries quiet with starvation. The witch wrapped the stocking around the child and carried it back to the vodyanoy. The toadman's eyes did dance with glee as he took the infant to his arms. 'I cannot thank you enough,' he said with tears building in his eyes. The witch smiled.

'Tell me of the white tsar.' It was enough to dampen his mood.

'He spreads throughout us all now, that man with hollow chest. I bid, dear witch, follow to the south. Walk until the forest rises in wicked shapes, until the crops are black with grief. That is all I can tell you'

More satisfied than with the rusalka, the witch carried on toward the south, until her feed did near go red with blood. Her heart nearly gave out, until she was stopped by the sound of sobs.

-

Far out from civilisation, she walked until she came across a leshy, his hulking frame wrought with grief, his once- beautiful hair gone lank and streaked with soot. 'Tell me why you wander, brother? Why do you cry, my brother and my friend?'

'The world has stolen my song, sister of the darker life.' And with that he extended a hand. She noted that his fingers were calloused and hard and nearly grey. 'I used to summon tears with this.'

'Do not cry,' the witch said, 'I will help you, if you can help me. If you can help me find the white tsar.'

The leshy closed his miserable eyes. 'Open your bag.' She did so, knowing there was only one thing in there. He picked up the piece of string. 'Please,' he said, his voice a whisper, 'take this to the township over the next rise. Please give me my song again.'

The witch did so. She went to the township and found the first artisan she could. She had him carve a violin, and weave the string into the frame. She took the instrument back to her large friend. He nearly cried harder, but instead he held out a hand.

'Please, I need to find the white tsar.'

'You have given me more than I have ever taken. I cannot grant you every wish, but I will help you as much as I can.' And with that he lifted the witch in a steady hand, and wandered 'cross the land. His footfall long and the world whipping angrily beneath them, he took them as far as he could go. Until they wandered unmistakably to the kingdom of the white tsar

-

The white tsar's kingdom had many names. Its trees were indeed of ice, and its crops rose high in streaks of grey, but it was not what the witch had imagined. In the years to come, the kingdom would grow many names within itself. It had outgrown some names already. St Petersburg, Petrograd, Leningrad. One day it would be St Petersburg, again.

The white tsar's kingdom existed within it all. We cannot outrun the wilderness, nor can we outrun those to whom it belongs. In much the same way of foxes or of birds, the creatures of our fairytales lingered still, linger still, between the space between our eyes. They tuck beneath our noses, sprint beneath our footfall. The kingdom inside the kingdom; the tsar inside the echo. He was as real as you or I, a king of what we long not to acknowledge.

The leshy walked as far as he did dare, but finally it was too much. The witch would have to finish her journey alone. 'They say there is a beast beneath the palace, guarding all his souls. I am sorry, I can go no further.'

'Thank you. I can never display my gratitude.' And so the witch carried on through the streets of St Petersburg or Petrograd or Leningrad. She walked until the icy trees dared freeze her ears, until the grey crops of buildings made her taste ash. But she did find it. Tucked between two buildings, a palace as fine as anything you or i have seen. Its frame was carved in splendid colours; spires of red and doors of green; windowsills of vibrant lilac.

The door opened, and the witch found herself staring at a dead eyed servant. 'Show me to the tsar.'

He did so. Bigger on the inside, he led her through winding passages to the courtroom of the tsar. The words were true. Sitting on a deep blue throne, the tsar was thin and dry and cold. Even so, she could see his power. 'I thought you were the white tsar,' the witch said. 'Everything here betrays that.'

The tsar lifted his head as though waking from a dream. He was lazy and his body dragged at every movement. 'I thought the colours would make me happy. I thought those reds and blues would fill me,' he said with a voice as low as death.

The witch watched him. 'Sir, I need a place to stay tonight. Will you help me?'

'What do you have as payment?' the witch froze. She was quiet with dread, but she opened her bag to reveal only the rusk and cheese.

'Give them to me,' the tsar said. His voice sounded old and tired. 'It will have to do'

-

So the witch got herself a bed for the night. But the witch didn't sleep a wink. Indeed, she got up at midnight, and found her way through the palace. Creeping beneath shadow, she didn't stop searching until she found a stairwell. Praying that it would be the right one, she crept deep into the cavern beneath the world. She found herself in a room as tall as a cathedral. It was elaborately carved, its walls covered in shelves. Most striking, however, was the emptiness, of books or wine or bodies. The only thing was a small rope in the bottom shelf. This was the only place the soul could be. Quietly, the witch started looking through the shelves.

There was a low growl in the hall behind her

The witch whipped around in time to see a shape spool from the shadows of the hallway. Its limbs moved precisely, quietly, but its body filled half the room. The leshy came only to its elbow. Its claws were long and sharp, lizard-like. This shape moved onto the torso of a gargantuan bull, its body thickly muscled. But it was the face that caught her. It was awful and awesome, terrible and sublime. Its mouth possessed a thousand teeth over a blood red tongue. Over its mouth lay over a thousand eyes.

The witch stared, and the beast let out a deafening yell. The cavern released rock from the ceiling, debris falling around her. But the witch could only stare at those thousand eyes. She knew what she was looking at. She knew that the soldier's soul was in the creature's eyes.

Then the creature started to run. The room was about the length of five streets, but every step took the creature closer and closer. The witch was pinned, and she looked around her desperately. Finally she focused on the rope and yanked it from the ground. She climbed up the shelves, praying that they'd hold her weight; that she could get high enough before its awful mouth could find her.

She stopped at the top shelf and waited for the animal. The moment it was beneath her, it started to lift its great body backward onto its haunches; its length easily enough to touch the ceiling.

The only thing the witch could do was fall. And so fall she did. She jumped from the shelf and forced her eyes open as she plummeted toward the creature's face. A thousand, tens of thousands of eyes watched her as she crashed into the creature's face and held onto the hairs of its face, barely longer than a teaspoon. She stared into the thousand eyes, and felt the creature start to roar. She forced herself to climb over the creature's face, looking desperately for the soul that had to belong to her soldier. The creature bucked and shrieked, but finally the witch stopped just over the creature's nose. She could feel its massive breath against her feet. But it was enough- she was looking into the soldier's soul.

Although it killed her to leave it, she forced herself to climb back up the angry monster's face and grip the monster's neck with her thighs. Then she picked up the rope, tying it into a lasso and throwing the opening wide. She didn't stop until it passed the creature's titan head, sliding down its throat. When it finally did, she crept up and tightened the lasso until the creature finally collapsed into unconsciousness

Exhausted and trembling, the witch crept down the monster's face until she found her soldier's missing soul. Then she lifted its eyelid, tired and dead, and tore the eye from its socket. And then the next eye. She tore the creature as blind as she could before sliding them into her sack.

As it were, she could waste no time. By the time she was up the stairs, the palace staff were after her.

The sobs of the tsar echoed through the hall, until she nearly collided with him at the doorway. "Please," the tsar sobbed a deathly note, "Please. They were going to make me happy."

The witch wound around him and ran. Behind her she heard the tsar's sobs turn into sounds of rage. She couldn't turn and look; she knew that soon the beast would wake. She was nearly at the edge of the town when the beast tore free. She felt it beneath her feet, heard its shriek in the icy air. She heard the splitting of stone and wood as the tsar set him free.

She ran until she left the town, upon which she saw the leshy fast approaching. She gripped onto his pant leg. "Please help me!" the witch gasped "I will do whatever I can."

She felt something being thrust into her hand, and she looked to see a string.

"Throw it behind you when you have nothing left." She began to run again, when she heard the beast roaring behind her. She ran until she thought she could hear its breath tearing through the broken wind. Finally she threw the thread back and heard the beast cry out. She knew then that it wouldn't hold, that it would tear itself free.

So she ran until she came upon the marshland. She felt the beast break free miles away from her, but what were miles to a vicious need. She found herself tumbling into the vodyanoy's arms. "Please!" she looked behind her, "The white tsar's beast seeks me." She could hear the sound of the vodyanoy's baby in the background. Resistance trembled in his eyes. "Please," she gasped one more time and yanked his wrist forward. She slipped a fistful of eyes into his palm. "Keep these and you will never be lonely again."

Eyes gleaming with gratitude, the vodyanoy handed her the same stocking she had given him. And she was given the same advice; that she should throw it. She ran until she could hear the creature gaining once more, until she could see its reflection in flashes of the water in front of her. Finally she threw the stocking and heard it wrap tightly around the beast's legs, until it collapsed in a pitiful yell.

The creature was done, but over the wind came the quiet but visceral scream of the white tsar. 'They were meant to fill me! THEY WERE MEANT TO BE MINE!' Her stomach dropped as his anger pushed him forward on the northern wind. He raced forward with every step she took.

Finally she ended up at the rusalka's river, colliding with her sister. 'Please help me!' the witch did sob. 'Please, I'm begging you to help me! The white tsar is on his way!' The rusalka nearly tore away from her but the witch grabbed for her wrist and poured eyes, poured souls into her hand. 'Keep these and you will never be hungry!'

The rusalka only had time to shove the comb into her hand. There would be no throwing this time. The witch ran until the white tsar was above her. Then she heard his body dropping like a stone and his weight sending cataclysms through the world beneath them; throwing her to the ground and sending shockwaves through her body. She looked up, and the tsar was no longer the frail man that had accepted her rusk and cheese in exchange for a bed. He was as tall as a house, his hair white as snow and his fingers stretched into talons.

The witch pulled back as he started to attack her, his nails trying and tearing at her skin. She struck out with her limbs, but it was only when she struck out with the comb that he collapsed above her. She had struck his throat. Terror in her throat, the witch pushed him from her body and watched the white tsar's body. Its limbs stark and blue. She had run so long already, but she forced herself to stand. She watched him, the steady silence empty and dead around her.

-

After a millennium the witch finally started to walk home. Finally, she arrived at the house, yanking open the door to her soldier. His lips were blue as ice, even though his body still looked fit. She sat beside him and pulled out of the souls. Then she made a cry, for his eye was not there

Bone-dead, the witch realised that she had to have given it to the rusalka or the vodyanoy. Frozen, she gripped the soldiers face in her hands and started to sob hard. With the tsar dead, the souls would be making their way back. Who knew if the rusalka would have eaten him already.

She leaned her head back and screamed out loud, tearing to her feet and scouring all the potion books, all the chests and all the drawers. It was no use looking for a life potion, as he was not dead. He needed a soul, and there was not a spell for that.

Slowly, the witch collapsed to her knees and started to sob. Steady cries that were near human in nature, broken and wet and messy as the best of us.

Then there was the sound of branches crushing outside. The witch froze, wondering if the beast had not been bound as tightly as she thought, if he was back for his revenge. The witch did the only thing she could and grabbed a poker from the fire, shoving the door open. She paused at the sight of a towering man. It was the leshy, his beard long.

'I heard you,' was all he said. The witch collapsed to her knees again, sobbing.

The leshy slowly moved to his own knees. He merely watched her, waiting until she fell silent. 'Please look at me.' She looked up and stopped dead. In the centre of his hand lay a single, unmistakable eye. 'It fell from you while you ran. It was too close to your heart.' The witch stared as he slipped it into her hands. It looked big, now, compared to on that beast's face. She hadn't had time to look at it properly.

Then she reached down and pulled a thread from her skirt, handing it to the leshy. He took it, and although he didn't thank her his eyes held depths deeper than she'd ever seen. "I don't want you to keep screaming," the leshy said, interrupting her gratitude. 'Now wake him up.' The witch looked up at him. Then the leshy pressed a gentle kiss to the tip of his fingernail and tapped it to her forehead. 'Goodbye, my little lonely friend,' he said. Then he stood up. 'May we meet again.' And then he was gone.

The witch didn't have time to dwell on such a large creature vanishing so effortlessly. She ran into the cottage and opened the soldier's mouth, shoving the eye under his tongue. Then the witch just watched. The moments ticked by, longer than she had ever felt them. But then, finally, she heard stirring beneath the covers. She opened her eyes and found herself staring into the eyes of her young yugoslav. There was no unease, no quiet in the way he looked at her. And the witch threw herself into her human's arms. And in that moment, she was human too.

[cebeavers]

Family Kingdom 2004

September 20, 2004

It had gotten dark, which was great cause I haven’t ridden Swamp Fox in almost 10 years, and can’t remember the last nite time rides I had. This was going to be fun. A Chance Slingshot, a Log Flume that looked like fun, a Coaster, and another Sally Dark ride, this one interactive? Heck yeah! For those of you unfamiliar with the Family Kingdom, or for those that haven’t been there in a long long time, let me give you a bit of history. What was once known as both the Grand Strand amusement park as well as the Swamp Fox Pavilion has undergone a lot of changes over the years. I don’t even remember the park before it re-opened after Hurricane Hugo, but Hugo did major damage to the Swamp Fox in 1989, and the coaster was rebuilt.

This is a classic John Allen Figure 8 seaside coaster with 2 PTC trains, though one must be hidden for the off-season, as it wasn’t in the station. Even though they have 2 trains, the park only ever runs one. I can still remember my first ride on Swamp Fox. It is a really great wooden coaster. The park has been opened consistently since the early 90s, and has added and switched out some of the other rides. It has mostly all fair rides, as well as Sally’s first interactive Dark Ride, a nice carousel, and a decent selection of flats. The park used to sit beside what was once known as “The Fun Spot Fun Park”, a very carnie feeling go-cart park that had a couple kiddy flats and a Ferris wheel, but Family Kingdom bought them out and expanded across the little river. This is now mostly the kids section, with the Chance Slingshot, Pistolero (the Sally Dark Ride), Go-Carts, and the Log Flume. It looks like a smaller Six Flags, to an extent as it is all on what was once a parking lot…Okay, maybe it has no resemblance what so ever to a Six Flags.

So I walked in the parks parking lot entrance and bought my POP, and headed straight to Swamp Fox. If you’ve never been on this coaster, it has the oddest station. I guess they never get really long lines, as there isn’t anywhere for a long line to go. It has a load and unload station, and on this nite, only had one operator running the ride, weird! As I was getting in line for the back, there were to 20something girls getting off of the ride and telling me that the back was “Just Brutal! The front is nothing compared to the back”. I smiled and said I knew, and then boarded the ride.

Swamp Fox-Mmmmm…Buzz Bars! I pulled the seat belt as far as I could, and off we were. There is a large turn around to the lift, which has a wonderful light package, IMHO. The lift is short, and the view is sweet, esp. with the ocean air blowing towards you. Then you turn around to head for the first drop. I had thoughts of HC5 from the day before as I was flung over the hill in the back seat. The only spot of roughness, and it isn’t bad at all, is at the bottom of the first drop. I wish there was more air over the second hill, but it doesn’t detract from the ride one bit. After that, though, its crazy! I was out of my seat on every hill. And I don’t mean an inch, but literally standing up. I was so glad that I had that seat belt to hold me in; otherwise I wouldn’t have had the chance to write this trip report. I felt ejected on every hill afterwards. The turnaround was quick, and the small bunnies after it kicked my butt even more. This is still my favorite wooden coaster!

After that insane ride, I decided it was time to test the other side of the park, as I’ve ridden everything on the Swamp Fox side that I wanted, and didn’t feel up to a lot of flats tonight. So I crossed a bridge and headed straight to Pistolero. At first I didn’t think it was open, but there were 2 ride ops on the platform. This used to be an old Mexican restaurant, and was Sally’s first Shoot’em up dark ride. I was the only person riding. My only complaint was that only 1 of the guns work if there is only one person riding. I like to play Jon Woo style, but I didn’t get to on this one.

Pistolero Roundup-Fun little ride. I don’t remember what my score was, and there were a few spots where something jumped out and scared me, but this is typical Sally goodness. I would and should have ridden more, I don’t know why I didn’t, but the one trip was rather fun. Every park should have one of these. The scenes were nicely done, but the last room with the “explosion” could have had more to it. All in all, though, a great ride!

So that was fun, what to do next? Why there is the newest thrill ride in the park the Sling Shot Drop Zone, a Chance slingshot. It looked intimidating, and no one was riding, but there were ride ops standing on the platform, so I went to get on.

The name was kinda corny, but the ride was pretty sweet. I hadn’t seen it run all nite, so I asked the ride op if it shot up or was just a drop tower, and he told me both. He was pretty friendly, and I got to face the park as I was going up…alone. I’ve never ridden a tower alone before. I’m still very afraid of drop towers. I don’t mind the shooting up at all. I loved Power Tower at Cedar Point for this. The ride is only 110’ (and I figure that also means the platform it sits on), so I knew it wouldn’t be like any thing I’ve ever done before, tower wise.

Sling Shot Drop Zone-First you rise up about 6 feet, and then the car lowers a bit. The tower looks very S&S-esq, with a smaller next-get Intamin-esq car. The tower had a great lighting package, and was painted yellow and red. After lowering a bit and the ride op going thru his whole spiel, I was launched. The ride was rather weak compared to most other launched rides I’ve been on, but I didn’t mind that one bit. The shot up was a lot of fun. Still, you don’t shoot to the very top of the tower. Going to the top of a drop tower is the part I hate most because I have time to think about dropping. But once I got to the top, it wasn’t long before I fell. This was odd, as you fall until about 6 feet from the bottom. On most other drop rides, you break way before that. Still, the breaking wasn’t at all hard, and the ride was rather smooth, and very quiet. It was even more quite with me riding, as I didn’t make a sound the entire way up or down.

Okay, so that was fun, what’s next? How bout my long awaited trip on the Log Flume. I remember them building this ride, but I’ve never ridden till now. Again, no one was riding, as the park was nearly empty. 

Log Flume-Another great ride by myself! This is one of the choppier log flumes I’ve ridden. It’s a concrete course, and as I left the station towards the first hill, I knew I was going to get wet. I went up the first smaller hill with anticipation. I knew there was a bunny hill at the bottom, a first for me on a flume. The first drop on the flume goes under ground level a bit where there is no water, and then hops up into a small pool. Splash! I was soaked. Good stuff!

Then, it was more choppy water heading to the big hill. The flume is situated in between the Go-carts to give both some cool interaction. Again, down the big hill and Splash! I’m wetter. The drops on both hills on Family Kingdom’s Flume seemed much steeper than Pavilions. I like both, as both have their up sides, and no down sides to speak of. So I was wet, now what should I do? Of course, walk around, and then head to Swamp Fox. This time I would get my front seat ride.

Have I said how much I love this coaster? One train wait for the front of another almost empty train, but something weird happened. Because someone couldn’t figure their seatbelt out, the train ended up being almost full. Sweet! Okay, turn to lift, up the lift. Wonderful lighting package, and there she blows! I had tears streaming from the wind in my face, and I loved every second! Though not nearly as forceful in the front, you get a different ride. This is how wood was meant to be ridden! Thru the course and onto the skid breaks into the unload station. I want more! I then got another ride, this time from the middle. There was a small delay again, but that is par for the course if you only have one ride op working. Still, she was doing her very best, and dispatching, loading, and unloading a dual station coaster by herself.

The middle provides different air, as well as different points of air than the front and back. I so can’t wait to live close to this monster and be able to ride when I want during the season. If you haven’t ridden yet, you don’t know. Another great ride in the middle. Okay, so I had my ride from everywhere on the coaster. I probably could have picked a seat and marathoned, but didn’t. I did, however, head over to the drop tower for another go.

Can I have this in my back yard along with my mice? This time I was on the back facing towards Ocean Blvd. and the Ocean with 2 young Russian Chicks. There were also 3 people around front. The shot up again wasn’t forceful, but good enough for me. This time, it didn’t seem to take as long to fall back down, but that could have been due to the fact that I could tell we were still moving till we got to the top as I had visuals to pinpoint my location. Another great drop, and I could marathon this as well. Next time, baby, next time!
 So my nite was almost over. I could have stayed till close, but I was tired. Plus I was still in the mood for dessert, and all this amusement park food was working on me. What to do? Why, take another back seat spin on Swamp Fox, and then head to that Dunkin Donuts I saw behind the park last nite that was closed.

The back is the best. Again, I was out of my seat most of the time. I really like this coaster, and it will go down as one of my all time favorites. I will spend time marathoning this thing next trip. I can only imagine what the thing runs like mid-summer, running all day with greased track that is heated from running all day. I will be back sooner for some more of this coaster. Never waiting that long again!