She felt the silence drop over the train carriage, it is unusual to feel the absence of noise, but her toes curled and jaw clenched as all noise disappeared. She certainly felt something.
It wasnt unusual for this to happen in her town, the trains would switch off going past residential areas late at night, and briefly would only be powered by momentum. It was unusual however for her to feel and hear the silence, she had left her headphones at home, usually she wouldn’t even notice unless the lights went off.
There weren’t many people in her carriage, a man down the end asleep against the window, a woman two seats down watching something on her phone and a teenage girl down the other end staring out the window blankly with her head phones in.
It was stiflingly silent, it felt as though the air pressure dropped and that her ears would pop, it was too quiet for even her ears to ring.
In that moment she dare not breath, and fracture the silence that had her smothered, she was fairly sure her heart even paused.
It amazed her that she had not felt the silence before, she glanced around the others in the carriage, all unaware of the fact that their entire environment around them had shifted drastically.
There was no squeak of the train wheels, uncomfortable seats, or the soles of shoes on the linoleum floor.
The air felt heavier, as it was carrying the weight of all the noises around her, and she shivered in the presence of nothing.
The silence was deafening, and she wondered how anyone could hear anything else over its noise.
“You humans speak so much of love, I would like to see it” the Alien asks, their eyes settling on you in a vaguely unsettling way.
They must have been informed that eye contact was considered important amongst humans, along side ‘love’, clearly.
“Well, love isn’t isn’t something physical to see,” the human hesitated. Explaining the concept of love was something they hadn’t realised they had signed up for when agreeing to volunteer as a human and alien community integrator. Alien, they decided was an apt description of this new race of people, it was much harder then they expected trying to teach something that seemed so simple and familiar to them.
“Love is an emotion, something that is felt or expressed, like anger or sadness,” they felt themselves smile as the aliens ears fell back in a way that the human now unsterstood meant confusion.
“Love is to care for someone, and to want them to be happy and healthy,” the human paused trying to find a way to apply it to what they new about the alien.
The alien tilted their head in affirmation, “do they love you as well, is it shared? This is how your teammate said you reproduce, I do not understand how an emotion makes you reproduce,” the alien quizzed, this alien was young and seemed quite interested in the process of human reproduction, clearly it was viewed as a very different process for them.
The human laughed, they could guess who on their team had said that, and whilst they understood the sentiment, it wasn’t very helpful in this situation.
The human grinned, “yes, love the emotion often results in reproduction, but it is not the innate function. Or perhaps we humans don’t view it that way.”
“Love can be between anyone, and unfortunately it is not always returned. Love can be different between different people as well,” the human hummed, as the aliens ears drew back again.
“You care for the health and safety of your collective you travelled with, just as you care for the person uhm, well- alien I guess, who reproduced you, and your companion who you wanted to share living space with,” the human surmised, really hoping that this was in fact true for the alien. They honestly had no idea what the alien experiences, but hopefully this made sense.
The aliens ears drew down this time, and the somewhat unnerving eye contact was dropped “I assure you that how I feel about my collective, companion, and my reproducer are very different.”
They were embarrassed, the human mused, “ yes, the same for me, I do not treat my companion the same as my mother, nor my team the same as my companion,” the human couldn’t help but laugh a little at the insinuation.
“But they are all important to me in different ways, and I care for their safety, and happiness and health. That feeling when thinking of your important people, or -um, you know aliens, is love,” the human shrugged, watching as the aliens ears returned to normal and unnerving stare returned.
The aliens head tilted in affirmation, “I believe I understand that emotion, I do not understand how that makes offspring,” their eyes scraping over the humans body is curiosity. Human biology was curious to them, they were very alarmed the first time they saw a pregnant human.
The human laughed again, nodding “the person who explained reproduction to you did not explain that love is sometimes a reason to reproduce,” the humans hesitated, trying to remember how old this alien was relative to human age.
Sighing, the human felt themselves grow hot, “when loving your companion you want to make them… feel good, yes?”
The aliens ears dropped again, but their stare remained “very much so”.
The human grinned at what looked like an enthusiastic ear flick and wobble, “well, although there are many different ways to make your companion feel good, and of course human biology does factor into it, It does often result in offspring.”
The aliens ears curled forward as they laughed, or well, their version of a laugh, “I see why there are so many humans.”
The human huffed, “ yes well, many people create offspring just via making each other feel good, not always on purpose.”
The alien ears seemed to curl forward further “I do not have offspring yet, I would like four, as it is the recommended number. However, I fear that if we reproduced as humans do we would have dozens of offspring,” the alien mused, causing the human to burst out in surprised laughter.
“Do you have any offspring ?” The alien queried, their ears drawing back.
“Oh no,” the human laughed, “I think there are more than enough of us, besides me and my companions biology do not allow for it.”
The aliens ears curled forward again, “well, you must make each other feel good with no restraint.”
The human grinned, “oh yes, don’t you worry about that.”
“I thought you said this wasn’t scary” I murmur quietly, the ominous music of the movie covering the sounds of shuffling as I grip the arm rest of the theatre tighter.
You look over to me in disbelief, “you wanted a scary movie!”
My head snaps to the side, “what? No, you wanted to see a scary movie!” I whisper furiously.
The adoringly amused look I get in return is surprising, “I only wanted to watch one becaue you did.”
I watch suddenly aware of your knees tucked up under your chin, and the tight grip on the arm rest just aside mine.
We both start to snicker as it occurs to me to me that this was all one big misunderstanding.
We slowly begin to sober as we realise now we have to sit through another 45 minutes of this frankly horrifying movie.
“Shit,” I hear you mutter.
I look hesitantly towards the screen, ‘shit’ indeed.
“That was the worst assassination attempt I’ve seen” I muttered, the dodgy CGI and explosions flashing in the shadows of the dark room.
I look over the piles of cushions and blankets, a dopey smile taking over my face as we start to giggle at the ridiculousness of the movie.
Only you could make me watch an action movie this bad. And only you could make it so enjoyable to watch the worst assassination attempt in the world.
Note for context: this is inspired by Nordbanhof station, also known as Ghost station, a train station in Berlin which was cut off by the Berlin Wall, yet remained a functioning passenger track throughout the war. It was an escape route where many people died trying to leave, and is still used as a functioning station today .
The chill of the station is bone deep Abandonment built into its walls, The walls of terror and divide Staining the ghosts that populate this station.
This station, though technically functioning, Holds the ache of the divide never forgotten. Only could this place of bone numbing empty Be a place of hope for the desperate.
Now a numbing reminder of human atrocities, But once a light at the end of the train tunnel.
I think I just met the happiest person in the world. It’s off putting really, having that much energy and joy at such an ungodly time of the morning, above all else, at work.
I don’t think anyone should be so happy when taking the pedantic orders of middle aged office goers, that regard you with the same value that of a remote control.
My boss loves you sure, for now. He tells me I should be like you, I need to be more inviting, ask about peoples day, smile more.
I used to, smile more that is, but unliveable wages, unsympathetic bosses, and outrageous hours aren’t especially conducive to smiles.
You’re smiling though, and if anything I’m sad that I know your smile will fade. You’ll be abused one too many times by a customer about something that isn’t your fault, and you’ll be expected to do things outside of your job description.
I want to yell at the top of my lungs to get out of here, get out while you can, get out while you’re still excited by the prospect of work.
Dreams, souls and happiness are crushed here.
I would know.
I used to be the happiest person in the world.
Uncle Simon had always been peculiar, and always will be. It was fun on Christmas day and birthday parties, never knowing what you’ll be gifted or what fun story he’ll have - Stories that make you question whether he’s really just making it all up.
But in the end you have to believe him, how could he even make up a story that strange?
But that’s just it, Uncle Simon is fun on when you see him once or twice a year, something to laugh about when you go back to classes.
Not when you have to live in his world, his very peculiar and eccentric world. Not when he washes his dishes with soap that smells like rotten fruit, or has strange people come over late at night with papers of illegible drawings and writing. Not when you have to live with him whilst writing your dissertation.
My mum says that that I’ll learn more about life living with him. I’m sure that’s true. But my dissertation had a due date, learning about life does not.
Dad says that’s he’s fun, that I could do with some fun. I say that distance makes the heart grow fonder.
I’m being harsh. I love uncle Simon, and I am voluntarily living with him after all.
That being said, his many last minute excursions are not conducive too academic writing, or schedules. He hates schedules.
Right now uncle Simon is doing pull-ups in the doorway with his cat snoozing around his neck, and too give him credit, the cat is rather fat.
Tomorrow I’ve been told we’re visiting a friend of his who runs a cryptid tour guide spot off the side of the highway.
I doubt that there’s really cryptids there. Maybe a hippie commune, or some stray teenagers secret smoking spots, but no cryptids.
Last time we went I found some incredibly interesting rock formations that my professor was astounded I found.
I think that’s why we’re going back. Uncle Simon knows we’re not always on the same page, but I appreciate the effort, because I know he thinks that the place is a sham (he knows what traces real cryptids leave behind).
Nonetheless he’s pretending to want to go again, and so am I. But that’s ok, because I love Uncle Simon and I know he’s doing his best.
So here I am rushing my draft schedule forward, because I wouldn’t miss looking at strange rock formations and fake cryptid tourist attractions for the world.
