A festival story. The characters are imagined; the clothes are real.
Sunniva
From the top of the Ferris wheel, the state fairgrounds looked like honey poured over a circuit board. The livestock barns glowed amber down their long roofs. The grandstand was a bowl of light. Between them ran the midway, a row of old poplars and the water tower with its painted ear of corn, and twenty thousand people drifting like sparks toward the main stage, where a progressive house set rolled out of the speakers in long, patient waves.
Sunniva Dahl had lit all of it. She had never seen it from higher than the third rung of a ladder.
At 11:02 the wheel stopped.
Car fourteen rocked forward, rocked back and hung at the very top, ninety feet over the hay bales by the gate. The lap bar was cold under her fists. The sixty-degree air smelled of kettle corn, diesel and cut alfalfa from past the fence.
"Folks, this is Vanessa at the controls." The ride's speaker crackled up from the platform, warm and unhurried. "The wheel has stopped. Your brakes are set and holding. Stay seated, keep your lap bars down and your hands inside the car. Our mechanic is on his way, and we'll talk you through every step."
The stranger beside her let out a long breath. "Well. That's a nice voice to be stuck with."
Sunniva's eyes had been shut since the car began to swing.
Ten minutes earlier Lorne, her board operator, had walked her to the line himself. "Four months you've lit this place off a laptop. Go see it before the big cue. I've got the desk." At the gate, Vanessa had glanced from Sunniva's cloak, indigo threaded with gold temple lines, to the stranger's velvet polo, the same indigo, the same gold, and grinned. "Matching set. Car fourteen."
Now the radio on her hip hissed. "Sunny, you up there? Cue forty runs at eleven-forty, on the drop. Best seat in the state."
She pressed the talk button, and her thumb wouldn't let go of it.
✦
Ishaan
He knew that posture. A sophomore at the top of the bleachers on a field trip. A kid on the end of the high dive. Eyes shut, knuckles white, chin buried in the black fleece of her hood.
"I'm Ishaan," he said. "I teach chemistry. I'm very calm in emergencies, mostly because I start them on purpose."
One eye opened. "Sunniva."
"Sunniva. Breathe out longer than you breathe in. That's the whole trick."
She tried. The car creaked. She grabbed his forearm, and he let her.
Below, a white pickup bumped across the grass to the base of the wheel. A man in coveralls climbed out with a toolbox and a headlamp, and Vanessa met him at the platform. Their voices floated up in pieces. Drive motor. Backup unit. Give me ten.
"That's Dale," Vanessa announced. "We have a drive fault, and the brakes are doing their job. Dale is switching us to the backup drive. If it won't take, we have a hand procedure and we turn her by hand. Either way it's slow, and either way it's reliable. We'll bring the wheel around a little at a time and unload in an order that keeps it balanced, so cars may come down out of order. All anyone has to do is sit."
"How long?" Sunniva whispered.
"Long enough for you to tell me why someone who never climbs got on a Ferris wheel."
Her laugh wobbled. "I'm the lighting designer. Every barn, the grandstand, the trees, the tower. I send other people up the ladders." She swallowed. "At eleven-forty the whole fairground goes red, like embers, and then green rolls through it, like a field coming up. Four months of work, eight seconds long. And I can't open my eyes."
Ishaan looked out at the glowing barns and felt the old, familiar shrug in his chest.
"Can I trade you something for that?" he said.
✦
Sunniva
"Every September I set metal salts on fire for thirty sophomores," he said. "Strontium burns red. Barium burns green. The kids shout the colors, and I nod like a wise man."
She opened both eyes and looked at him instead of down.
"I can't tell which one they're cheering for. Red and green are the same color to me. A sort of mustard."
"So when my fairground goes red," she said slowly, "and then green—"
"Mustard," he agreed. "Then mustard. Probably very beautiful mustard."
She laughed, a real laugh, and the car swayed, and she didn't grab anything.
"What colors do you get?"
"Blues. Yellows. Gold." He touched the edge of her sleeve, where gold lines and small glowing orbs climbed through the indigo. "Your cloak, every inch of it. It's the only thing on this whole wheel I can see all of."
At 11:27 the wheel hummed, eased forward one car and stopped. Below, a gate clanked and two teenagers whooped as they stepped onto the platform.
Sunniva looked at the barns. The poplars. The tower. On the main stage the producer was stripping the track down to a single pulsing chord, the long build every progressive house crowd waits for.
She keyed the radio. Her thumb worked fine.
"Lorne. Change for cue forty."
"Sunny, it's thirteen minutes out."
"Swap the palette. Everything to deep blue. Gold on the rooflines and the tower. Palette nine."
A pause. "You've been building that red since May."
She looked at the man beside her, his hands folded on the lap bar like a teacher waiting for a room to settle.
"Run nine," she said.
✦
Ishaan
At 11:40 the music fell away to a heartbeat and one high note, and twenty thousand arms went up.
Then the drop landed, and the fairground turned blue.
It started at the main stage and rolled outward, barn by barn: long roofs flooding with deep blue, rooflines tracing themselves in gold, the poplars along the midway lighting one after another like struck matches, the grandstand filling like a bowl of night water. The water tower blazed gold at its crown. The blue ran all the way to the cornfields at the fence and stopped there, a tide line.
The crowd's roar reached them half a second late, climbing the spokes.
Ishaan forgot he was ninety feet in the air. He forgot to breathe, then remembered, then forgot again.
"Is it—" he started.
"It's blue." Sunniva was leaning against the bar, eyes wide open, looking straight down at all of it. "Blue and gold. Same as you see it. Exactly the same."
He couldn't answer. She found his hand on the bar and laced her fingers through his, and they rode the last twelve minutes down that way, car by careful car, the wheel humming around them, her fairground breathing blue and gold below.
At 11:52 Vanessa swung the gate open. "Car fourteen. Thank you for sitting so still."
Ishaan's knees had forgotten the ground. Sunniva's hadn't. She stepped off, turned and held out her hand.
✦
Sunniva
Behind the grandstand the bass came through the bleachers as a deep, even pulse, and the blue light fell between the seats in stripes across his face.
"Lorne is going to tease me about palette nine until we both retire," she said.
"Was the red really that good?"
"It was perfect." She stood close enough to feel the warmth coming off him. "This was better."
He traced a gold line down her sleeve with one fingertip. "Same colors," he said. "Every inch."
Her pulse was louder than the subs. "In my world, nothing happens without a standby."
"Then call it," he said softly. "I'll wait as long as you like."
She caught the collar of his polo, crushed velvet warm and soft under her fingers, and drew him an inch closer. "Standby, kiss one." Her lips brushed his. "Go."
He kissed her the way he had held still on the wheel: patient, steady, and then not patient at all. His hands slid under her cloak to her waist, and the night air and the heat of him arrived together, and past the bleachers the progressive set began another long climb.
The crew trailer stood forty steps away, her name on the door in blue gaffer tape. She found the key without looking.
At one o'clock, right on Lorne's timer, the barns faded to black one by one.
For once, the lighting designer missed her own cue.
The cloak and the polo from car fourteen
Our Celestial Temple design has crossed Iceland's lava fields to a midnight-sun sunrise in Where the Sun Forgets to Set and followed a festival home in A Letter From You, Six Months From Now. This time it rode to the top of a Ferris wheel. The art is a temple drawn in starlight: gold linework over deep indigo and violet, blue lightning branching through it, glowing orbs and a triangle holding a star. Sunniva wears the Celestial Temple women's cloak ($250), and Ishaan wears the Celestial Temple crushed velvet polo shirt ($65), with the eye in the triangle right at the chest.
- Cloak: micro-mink poly outer · ultra-soft fluffy microfiber fleece lining in black or white faux fur · 200 g/m² · double front zipper · heavy drawstrings · four pockets (two interior stash pockets, one zippered, plus two deep side pockets) · unisex fit, XS–5XL. For layers underneath, size up.
- Polo: crushed velvet · collar, button placket and short sleeves · S–5XL.
More for cool fairground nights: women's cloaks · men's cloaks · crushed velvet
What do you wear to a music festival at the fairgrounds?
Dress for long walks on mixed ground: paved midways, grass, gravel lots and dusty barn aisles. Wear broken-in closed-toe shoes, a breathable top for warm afternoons, and a hooded layer for after dark, because open fairgrounds cool off fast. Pick something bold enough for friends to spot across a crowded midway.
- Progressive house dress code: sleek, comfortable pieces that move through long builds; velvet, deep jewel tones and visionary prints all fit.
- Rides and grandstands: cloaks and hoodies with zippered pockets keep your phone secure on a Ferris wheel or in the bleachers.
- Barns and exhibit halls: these can run warm inside, so pick a layer that opens easily.
- Late nights: September air on the open prairie can drop 20 degrees after sunset. Keep a warm layer within reach.
For September in the Midwest, Lost Lands fills Legend Valley in Thornville, Ohio, with bass in mid-to-late month, with nights in the 50s°F and sometimes the 40s, and Infrasound Equinox brings deep dubstep to Harmony Park in Clarks Grove, Minnesota, with nights in the 50s°F; for a festival Ferris wheel at full scale, EDC Las Vegas spins one at the Las Vegas Motor Speedway in mid-May.
Frequently asked questions
What happens when a Ferris wheel gets stuck?
The brakes hold the wheel in place while operators keep riders seated with restraints closed. A mechanic finds the cause. Crews then turn the wheel slowly on a backup drive or by hand, unloading one car at a time in an order that keeps the wheel balanced. Riders stay in the car until it reaches the platform.
How do you stay calm on a Ferris wheel if you're afraid of heights?
Sit still, keep both hands on the bar, and rest your eyes on the horizon instead of straight down. Breathe out for longer than you breathe in. Talk with the person beside you, or describe what you see one piece at a time. Ride with a friend, and remember that the wheel is built to stop and hold.
How cold does the Midwest get at night in September?
Most of the Midwest sees September lows in the 50s °F, a little warmer around St. Louis and cooler in Minnesota and northern Wisconsin. Early in the month, nights can stay near 60°F; by late September, clear nights in open country can slip into the 40s. Pack a warm hooded layer for anything that runs past midnight.
Written by Magus & Lylyth Fawn, the Los Angeles artists behind Magus Fawn. Magus makes VR and digital visionary art and produces Psy EDM. Lylyth makes fractal digital art and runs design and customer care. We've been selling wearable art since 2020 on Etsy (4.7★ from 144 reviews as of October 2026) and here at magusfawn.com. Come say hi on Instagram @magusfawn.
0 comments