Writing Prompt

The train travels with a steady rhythm that lulls Althea to sleep. It’s a sleep withdrawn from the unthreading reality forced upon her these past few days. In these dreams, everything felt okay like the future was obtainable and not a slippery wet ball in her sweaty unskilled hands. If Althea could tie herself to her dreams for an eternity like a cursed princess then maybe she wouldn’t feel so much like the ground is shaking under her and waiting for her to fall into its endless void. The shaking ground continues but soon it calls her name in a baritone voice that sounds exactly like Professor Branch, her Natural Talent’s professor at the University of Axelia.

His voice gets louder and more stern but she stays tethered to her world of dreams like a man searching for a will to live. The ground continues to shake and then from nowhere the sound of glass cracking breaks her eyes open.

Looking around, Althea is out of breath and sees some pieces of broken glass on the train floor. Her thick coiled hair sticks to her sweaty face and her hands with painted black nails decorated with white stars are shaking. On her side, in this small train cabin along with her is Professor Branch whose fingers glow a forest green as he holds up a magical energy shield that glistens like the morning dew on a patch of grass. Althea checks over her body, her clothes are still covered with blood stains that are not her own and the new orange sneakers she bought are dirty, scuffed up, and look like she’s had them for years rather than a month. There is no damage to her body, only a lingering crick in her neck. She moves her head, releasing the crack in her neck and stretches her arms up then she turns to face Professor Branch. Sweat drips down his gray brows as they knit in concentration and the room is filled with an earthy aroma. His focus is on his task as he remains alert, listening out for something.

Outside their room, they hear their fellow passengers engaging in distressing conversation. Every single person asking the same question. A question Althea utters out herself.

“What just happened?”

Althea waits for the Professor to answer, trying to avoid gazing at the bandage on the Professor’s cheek but it’s difficult as her gaze seems compelled to focus there. After a minute of waiting, Professor Branch doesn’t respond so Althea finally forces herself to look away from him and out at the train window. A train window that’s empty of the glass on its panel…Perplexed, she narrows her eyes and the lush landscape of trees passes by her eyes without a proper greeting. Foolishly, she stands up, deciding she needs a closer view out the window. Nearing Professor Branches magical energy shield’s borders, she feels strong hands gently grip her shoulders and then pull her back.

“What are you doing?” The Professor hisses with anger.

Althea looks back at him without an answer because what was she doing? They were on a moving train and whatever caused the commotion was probably not viewable by now.

“Professor Branch,” she starts, her voice full of fear. “What’s going on?”

The green energy shield held up by Professor Branch was broken when he grabbed her shoulders and the earthy scent that surrounded them was gone, replaced with the smell of Professor Branch’s expensive cologne.

Professor Branch takes his hands off of her shoulders and takes a step back.

“Now you wake,” he mutters under his breath.

Within a few steps, he’s on the other side of the room, looking as if he’s going to sit down but he doesn’t. Instead, he paces in the confined space of their roomette with very few steps. Days ago, when they first boarded this train the Professor enhanced the roomette with his magic to be more walkable for them both but just barely. The whole time he paces Althea’s eyes follow him, watching as his gray dreads swing a bit with every quick anxious movement he makes. Once he’s done pacing, he sits at the opposite end of their roomette with a stiff posture, looking like a statue of himself.

Althea wonders if she’ll poke him if he’ll crumble to pebbles upon her touch.

“What happened?” Althea asks again but this time a yawn tumbles after her words are out.

“He’s still here and with the commotion this is sure to have caused…” Professor Branch stops talking, the wrinkles on his face create a stressful portrait with an array of colors of frustration.

Outside of their roomette, they could hear panicked footsteps and passengers starting to walk towards the front of the train, probably to seek answers from the conductor. They could also hear the staff following after the passengers all speaking in soothing tones as they tried to calm everyone down.

“Um,” Althea starts, wishing she could go back to her dream where her wrongs didn’t carry the weight of the world. “A plan. We need a plan!”

“I could freeze him,” she finishes, telling him the first idea that pops into her head.

Professor Branch pinches the bridge of his nose. “No, the last thing we need is a train full of frozen passengers.”

Althea begins to protest but remembers how at freshman orientation she almost froze the whole freshman year when trying to chill a hot coffee she bought that morning.

“I’ve improved…” she insists as she dramatically places a hand on her chest. “I am managing a B in your class.”

“You’re managing a D, Ms. Grant.”

At birth, the last name Grant is bestowed on the beings who descend from long lines of those who were chosen by the earth itself to protect her. They will only retrieve their parent’s chosen last name or a last name of their choosing if they receive a blessing from the elemental beings who are the chosen rulers of the elements. Althea has an affinity for ice magic but Glaciera only gives her blessings to those who are worthy. It took Althea’s mom only fifteen years after her powers were bestowed upon her to earn her last name back. If Althea had to theorize when she’d be released from the Grant last name well it wouldn’t be anytime soon.

“What? A D? Is this because of my report because I told you I didn’t realize I incorporated a wasp spell on the citation page!”

“Oh, this is definitely about the wasps,” he replies with narrowed eyes. “Of all the students to get stuck with.”

He says the last part under his breath.

“Professor Branch, in high school I was voted most likely to try to succeed.”

Professor Branch looks at her in confusion. “That doesn’t boost my confidence in you.”

“Well, it should because a person that tries is a person that can.” She replies then after a thought continues. “I should copyright that.”

Professor Branch looks at her as if she’s wearing a dunce hat and in his head she probably is. “Ms. Grant. I would like to remind you that we are the last remaining two magic users in this dimension. I know you know nothing of the artifact we must retrieve but if he figures out how to use it we are looking at a decimation of all species. It’s imperative that we—“

“Restore all magic and bring everyone back,” she says, cutting him off. “I’m aware, Professor Branch. But in order to do that it’s vital we see each other as equal partners.”

“You are barely into your second semester of learning magic, Ms. Grant. Forgive me for not seeing you as an equal.”

Althea purses her lips. “Professor Branch, I’m all you’ve got and if we must take this guy down to restore order I need you to believe in me.”

Professor Branch looks her over. “Alright, Althea, prove yourself. Restore the glass of our window.”

“Right now?” Althea says with a nervous gulp. She was never good at pop quizzes. “Uh, yeah, I can do that.”

She gets up from her seat and puts her hands out. “Glass shards, reunite.”

Her hands glow a pastel blue and the glass on the floor begins to rise but then they drop. The glow in her hands dissipates and she looks at them with dissatisfaction.

“Okay, so when a verbal spell doesn’t do the trick…then…” she thinks of the old nursery rhyme that granters teach their kids. “Give your finger just a prick!”

She reaches down to touch the broken glass shards but a black miasma surrounds them and she falls back onto the floor, hitting the seating of the room. “Why did it do that?”

Professor Branch’s dark brown skin pales a bit as a frightened look crosses his face.

“It’s a tracker spell. Only activated when it finds a magical target who interacts with it… Not only is he here but we’ve just told him exactly where we are.”

“Tickets please.” I droned, walking the aisle of the train, occasionally holding onto the back of a seat for balance. The train tonight is loud, making my job unpleasant. The rocking, the clickety-clacking, the talking and the thoughts of the people aboard the train crowd in on me, surrounding me, trapping me in a bubble of cacophonous noise which makes my head thump. Everyone, everything on board this train has a secret. The blonde woman sitting next to the business man in the grey suit is skipping dinner with her husband to see her lover. The businessman himself holds a secret, one so dark that if his work found out, he wouldn’t be a businessman anymore. The mother, thrusting a crumpled bundle of paper at me while she tries to soothe her screaming infant knows she hasn’t got the ticket, but hopes I won’t examine the paper she proffers, her chipped glitter polish winks at me. It knows the secret, I know the secret, and the train knows the secret. the train itself has a secret. It will derail soon, tired of working. Tired of carrying people and their germs. And I, will delight in that. relish it. Hold the secret close, for I am the secret keeper of the train. And we, my dear passengers are aboard the train of secrets.

The ground jolted, shuddered, and Sylver supported himself against the oak-panelling. “Conductors these days,” he muttered, rightening himself to the tilt to the corridor. “They don't know the force stabiliser from the throttle.”

Climbing over a toppled crate of leaf tea, Sylver lit one of the hanging lamps. Electric-blue burst like a supernova drowning the wooden train corridor in brilliant, radiant light.

Perching on the edge of a makeshift seat, Sylver removed an aluminium flask from his bag, next placing a white china cup next to it. He did not need the drink. The hot tea was unnecessary, but the sentiment of it remained the same, and the fresh, aromatic scent of the beverage always sent a joyous buzz through his senses. Sylver poured a cup and lifted it to his nose.

The door to his left rattled. Odd, he had not felt any other turbulence. Rising to his feet, Sylver stood before the door. He brushed the metal nameplate in its centre, his finger running over the ‘S’. “Storage,” he mused. He rapped on the door. “Somebody trapped? A kidnapped mop, perhaps?”
“Get me out!” a voice screamed. The door rattled again. Sylver straightened his bow tie. “Stand back!” Checking the corridor and deeming it clear, Sylver raised his leg and kicked. His foot slammed, once, twice below the bronze doorknob.

Wood splintered. A jagged crack jutted across the wood. The door swung open, and a shaggy-haired boy stumbled from the dark. Sylver took in the appearance of the arrivals strange clothes. He wore a long-sleeved multi-coloured jumper, and his blue trousers seemed to be more ripped holes than actual jeans, exposing the pale nobbles of his knees. Thick, black boots claimed his feet, and they looked like they had not been polished in a while.

The boy whirled around, and Sylver grabbed his thin shoulders. “Steady, son!” Sylver said, and he could feel the boy trembling. He did not look much older than eighteen moons by human standards. “Where in the galaxy did you come from?”

The boy appeared to search the ground, his mouth flapping like a trout. “I... Wh— what?” “How did you find yourself in the cupboard? Did someone put you there?” “Cupboard?” The boy croaked, “No, no. I was... I was just... I can’t...” The boy shook his head, again and again, and again, until Sylver was confident he would end up dislocating his neck. “Hey, ho, good chap. Best you stop that. Here, take a seat. Come,”

Sylver took the boys hand and directed him towards a stack of wooden crates. He dusted the top with the sleeve of his jacket and helped the boy take his perch. Once the boy had settled, Sylver asked, “What’s your name, son?” “Er...” The boy massaged his forehead whilst his foot also tapped an inharmonious tune. “Er, Leith.” “Sylver. Right, then Leith—”

A groan whined through the train, and the corridor shook. Crates toppled, the light flickered, and a metallic twang informed Sylver that his flask had found a new home on the floor. “Where are we?” Leith squealed. “Why, the Greenbelt Space Express, of course. The Ceshan D to Gelrora line.” Sylver checked his watch and grinned. “Ah, now this is a treat. We should be coming up to the Wol Star Cluster about now.”

Patting Leith’s shoulder, Sylver strode two steps to the other side of the corridor. He drew the velvet curtain, and the golden, oval window framed the scenery perfectly—a sight made for a gallery.

Colours collided in a twirl of an artists’ pallet. Bright purples, vibrant greens and sunny, rusty oranges twisted together in clouds of different pigments, standing bold against the sky’s obsidian canvas. A luminous splattering of stars dusted the view favourably, completing the sight like a signature.

Never in all his years would Sylver ever get bored of seeing the wonder of the Wol Star Custer. He had travelled around the galaxy and far beyond, but never once had he seen anything so breathtaking—metaphorically, of course, for he had no organic lungs.

“You can only see it at the rear of the train,” Sylver whispered in awe, “It is due to the way it belts around. It is why I was back here when I found you—to see this.”

Wood creaked behind him, and Leith appeared at Sylver’s shoulder. Leith gasped, his breath fogging up the glass. “We’re in space?” Sylver chuckled. “Well, of course, son.” “In actual space? A train in space?” “Yes...?” Sylver said slowly; he was sure he had mentioned that already. Tapping the side of his head, Sylver felt for any bumps or lumps, any tears in his skin. He felt nothing.

“Strange, my memory circuit seems fine. Surely you knew you were in space? How did you get on board?” Leith kept his eyes on the window, his pale face flashing in colours of rich pinks and royal blues. “Memory circuit?” “Yes, memory circuit.” Sylver stepped away from the window and gestured to his whole being. His head twitched. Shoot—he knew he should have worn his best jacket. “I am a cyborg, son.”

Leith's eyebrows raised, vanishing into the loose curls of his blond hair. “A cyborg?” “Yes, son. Is my voice box not functioning correctly as well? I suppose I should not have cancelled my medic's appointment to come on this trip. I must remember to go when I return.” “No, no. Your voice... is fine.” Leith affirmed, but Sylver couldn't help pick up on the slight hitch in the boy’s voice—the dusting of a question.

Oh, fry my circuits, Sylver swore. “You are not one of those Cyatup devotees? I will not tolerate any prejudices against me. And neither will the conductor, I’m sure.” Leith raised his hands—the intergalactic sign of surrender. “Huh— No, I don't even... No. I’m not...one of them!”

Sylver hummed and crossed his arms over his chest. The boy may not have been a Cyatup supporter, but he was something. Be it a floozy, a drunken, or an indigent stowaway—Sylver couldn't quite put his finger on it.

“Where did you say you came from?” “Er...” The boy stumbled back, returning to his seat on the crates. “I’m not entirely sure. Everything is kinda muddled. I was... I was at the museum, and walked into the loo, when suddenly—” He slapped his legs. “I ended up here, locked in there!” He jabbed his thumb towards the storage cupboard. “A museum, you say? On Tharia?” Leith frowned. “No. Earth. London.”

Sylver barked a laugh. “Don’t be daft, boy. No one has inhabited Earth for over one hundred years—part of the Care Program. Everyone knows all humans relocated to Renkore. I’m not a simpleton, you know.”

Leith stood and tugged something from his back pocket. The rectangular device laid flat in his palm, the screen a black, an endless shiny portal. Leith tapped the device, and the screen glowed, dousing his face in white light and shadows. “Damn,” he swore, “no signal.” “Well, indeed not, son. We are in space, of course. And, might I add, those devices have not been used in over three hundred years. Where ever did you acquire it so well intact?” Leith tapped the screen again. “My mum,” he mumbled. “Fascinating stuff!”

The train jolted, and Sylver collapsed to the side. His head smacked the wall—a static buzzed. Above, the lamp fell, smashing, extinguishing the flame, drowning them in shadows. “What is that!” Leith cried, his body too, sprawled in a tangle of limbs on the floor.

Red light flooded the corridor, and a claxon blared. Dread flooded Sylver’s systems, his semi-mechanical head thumping. “We are under attack!” he shouted, “We must get to safety. Follow me!”

Sylver jumped to his feet and grabbed Leith’s wrist, tugging him forward, but the boy didn't move. “No! I want to go home!” “There won’t be a you to go home if we don't move, so if you will not come of your own volition—” Sylver raised his tea flask. He winced. “Apologies for this.” He wacked the boy on the back of his head.

“You will thank me later,” Sylver groaned, and he carried Leith’s limp—but alive—body down the corridor, out the door and hopefully to safety.

After a long day at work Rebecca was relieved to be finally on the train going home as she placed her bag on to the empty seat next to her, she took her phone out of the bag to text her wife that she’s on her way home and the day felt like it was never going to end, she received a reply almost straight away.

“Aww babe I’m sorry, how about a takeaway and a film tonight then a soak in the bath later x” Rebecca smiled as she sent back a quick sounds amazing. She put her phone back in her bag as the train began to move. She rested her head against the window and thought about the evening ahead of her, she thinks about getting home and cuddling up with her wife she can already smell how sweet her perfume smells but the sound of a child laughing brought her out of her thoughts she turned her head and saw a young girl that looks about 7 years old laughing loudly whilst who Rebecca assumes to be the girls mother read her a story, she smiles at the adorable sight and thinks about how she’d love to have a child with Sarah. They have spoken about it and they’re both wanting kids, as the train begins to slow down she notices it’s approaching her station, she picks up her bag and stands up preparing to get off the train and return home.

I can see them. The others are coming towards us. I take my brothers hand and shake it to let him know. But his eyes are already fixed on them. ‘What we gonna do?’ I ask. ‘We’ll just have to wing it.’ He gives me his best reassuring smile, but I’m not stupid. Sooner or later they will catch and kill us for what we did. Before I can say any more, my brother pulls me out of my seat and down the train carriage. We walk fast so we don’t attract attention - or any more than we already have, seeing as we are carrying massive bags of money that chink as we walk. The others follow. As we near the end of the train carriage, we break into a run. My brother flings open the door and we scurry out onto the back of the train, barricading ourselves outside using my rifle. ‘This way, up the ladder!’ I cry, and we scurry up it onto the top of the train.

The wind whips my hair and stings my eyes but we still run, unafraid of being knocked off our feet. We’re already dead men. I wish my brother had never persuaded me to do this. We come to the bridge where we’re supposed to make our exit. Then, the others break the window beneath us. Toned arms lunge at us, with nails that scratch and lash. It’s Ares. ‘Damn it, Apollo,’ I say. ‘You said it would be easy!’ ‘Soz, Artie,’ my brother says, ‘but you didn’t know what you were buying into.’ ‘I needed cash!’ ‘Yeah, well, this is the best way to get it.’ We are coming up to the checkpoint. I can see Poseidon in his little boat waiting for us. Thank Olympus. Without thinking, I jump. Over Ares and Athena, arcing into a perfect arrow, descending on my target. And then I’m safe on my uncle’s boat. ‘Hey, Uncle,’ Apollo says, climbing up after me. ‘Good catch guys,’ Poseidon says. ‘I should put you on more jobs.’ ‘Uncle,’ I say, ‘is this what it’s really like to be powerless?’ ‘Yep, Artie, and we’re all better for it. Just jump straight in and enjoy the ride. We have more thieving to do.’ And, with that, we sail away down the river, away from Athena and Ares and anyone who has tried to stand in our way. The sun is setting as the train fades away into the distance. That’s a good thing: I would hate to meet with Athena and Ares again and face their wrath. I just really want to finish our mission and get our powers back again. I hate that the stupid guy. He shouldn’t be able to do this. But there’s one thing I know that is not going to be hidden from me - when you’re powers have been taken from you, you will go to great lengths to get them back. And I am definitely that desperate. Oh well. Any means.......

The train surges forward from the station and then trundles along, silently. I look out the window and see the stars and planets and galaxies scattered through the infinite inky blackness.

An Attendant walks through the sliding glass doors into my carriage. They pass through, scanning our faces and cross-referencing the images with the data from the cameras at the station. Once they’ve strolled past my bed, I lean my head back against the cool window.

On this 5pm Universal Standard Time journey from New Neptune to Constellation 467, there are only five full-time passengers: Nona from the Pisces region; Alksamana’ar from Canis Major; Resia the Nomad; Quintillon who lives in Constellation 467; and me- the only Earthling. The rest of the passengers will be getting off at the stops along the way, so they’re in another carriage. Might as well be another universe.

The train picks up more speed, but space doesn’t care. It stands stagnant as we roll through. We see some other trains and even a ship or two, but after three hours the windows automatically become opaque and we can see no more. Space has no day or night, so the conductor has to manufacture it.

8pm UST might seem early to retire, but they must accommodate for the majority, and there are only 19 hours in a day on Nona’s planet and even less on some of the others’. Might as well be 2am. We all got to meet when we got on. Nobody wants to be confined with strangers for the 2 day journey. Nobody but me.

Supper was good. Chicken Chow Mein with cookie dough ice cream for dessert. My cubicle has been customised for me- fluffy blankets and a memory foam pillow on a mattress up against the window. The window covers the whole side in a single piece, but they’re working on the technology so everyone can have their window as they please. I wish I could see the stars.

I try to find a movie or a show on my entertainment system, but I’m not in the mood to try something new so I settle for a rerun of Queer Eye. I make it through two episodes before I drift off to sleep. I wake with a jolt when the train swerves to avoid an asteroid. I squeeze my eyes shut and hope it doesn’t hit us. There are voices outside: Alksamana’ar’s stumbling dialect and the robotic replies of the Attendant.

My cubicle registered that I was asleep and turned to Night Mode. It doesn’t seem to notice that I’m awake now, so I check my Transmitter (the descendant of the smartphone) to see the time. 9:38pm. I’ve definitely been asleep for more than 20 minutes.

I slide my door open. I was gonna go look for the Attendant or another passenger, but the calendar on the wall stops me. Stops my heart.

How have I been asleep for 24 hours?

Ella’s POV: The train starts up, slowly, then faster. I sit down in my little booth and open up my new book, starting to read. Before I can even read the first paragraph, I see a pair of shoes in front of me. I look up and meet the orange eyes of a young boy. He cannot be more than 16 years old. His hair is pure orange and he is wearing a sky-blue sweater. To match the sweater, he wears a pair of black jeans, his hands shoved in their pockets as he gives me a small smile. “This seat taken?” He asks, moving his head to point at the seat next to me. I shake my head, not able to trust my mouth to say the right words. He nods, a shine in his eyes as he sits down next to me. I nod at him once more before I start to read again. Not even five minutes later, he is hovering over my shoulder, reading along with me. I do not mind it, except for how close he is to me. I can feel his breath on my neck as his chest rises and falls. The train suddenly gets overwhelmingly warm and a bit too comfortable. My eyelids start to droop and before I know it, I’ve falling asleep. UNKNOWN POV: The train started slowly, then faster. I board the train as I look for my next victim. And then I see her. She is reading a book; it seems that she had just started. I cannot see the title; the book seems to not have one. She is wearing a black sweater over a t-shirt that I did not immediately recognize. She had a scarf wrapped around her neck, which I assumed had to be hiding a mischievous smile. I approach her, a feeling of sudden nervousness overcoming me. I stand in front of her for almost a full minute before she looks up to meet my eyes. Her eyes are a beautiful caramel brown, tinted with just a hint of light green which I could get lost in for days. I regain my composure, force a small, hopefully friendly smile and ask, “This seat taken?” She hesitates a slight second before shaking her head. She stares at me with her wide eyes as I take a seat next to her. Soon, she redirects her attention back to her book. I berate myself for choosing her, knowing that I will hate myself for what I am about to do. I scoot over towards her silently in the booth we are sitting in and lean my head over her shoulder, curious as to what she is reading. As she reads, I read along with her. Not too soon after we are reading together, I feel her stiffen in realization. I even out my breathing, knowing she will be listening to each breath I take. Like I had planned, she soon falls asleep, leaning on me.

I’m running late today, utterly late. I’m rushing around trying to collect my thoughts and belongings from Phil’s house. “Don’t forget your phone” he smiles and kisses me goodbye. I run for the train station and get there just in time. I walk in the doors and find a seat towards the back. My phone dings, a text from Phil. ‘Have a wonderful day at work my love’ god he knows just what to say to make my morning bright again. I look around the train and see an odd sight. There’s a man facing the wall murmuring to himself. Almost as if debating something. My gut is screaming bad vibes, but where am I supposed to go? I’m on a moving train, there’s nowhere to go. ‘Okay Kay think’ what the hell am I going to do? I make my way up to the next car and keep going until I find a conductor. “Sir, something is about to go terrible wrong in car three”. The man looks at me puzzled. ‘Good job idiot, now he’s going to think you have something planned’. I roll my eyes and explain the man to him. He gets on the radio to get help but it’s too late. Screams emerge from the third car. “HES GOT A GUN!” a passenger screams from one of the other cars. In a matter of seconds the entire train is in panic. “What do I do?” I asked the conductor. “Stay here”. “But sir there are children on that car” I said. “Ma’am you are safest right here please stay put”. What do I do? I don’t want innocent children to die, but yet I don’t want to die. It’s clear to me what I must do. ‘Phil I love you so much no matter what happens remember that always and forever, you are my forever’ text sent. God am I really going to do this? I start going back towards car three. One car down. My phone dings. ‘Kay what do you mean? What is wrong? Are you okay? Please answer your phone!’ Two cars down. ‘I love you Phil’. Last car. I look into the window and see the man at the other end of the car. The door is wide open, no time to conduct a plan. I see a little boy near me, I make eye contact with his mother and she nods at me. She pushes him towards me and I grab him and get him to car two. “Go find a woman with a child and stay with her”. “Yes” says the child. Okay Kay you got one kid to safety. One more to go. My phone is going off like crazy. I’m sweating, ready to have a panic attack. ‘Stop that right now, you are no good to save these people if you freak out now’. Okay breathe. Breathe again. I’m okay. I look into car three again and see the other child waiting for the parent to acknowledge me. Finally they see me. I wave for the child to come to me. ‘Slowly’ I mouth to the girl. She nods and slowly comes towards me checking over her shoulder to make sure the man isn’t looking. “WHERE ARE YOU GOING?!” The man yells at her. She sits down quickly “I-I I had to go to the bathroom” she says quietly. “You’re not going ANYWHERE, if you move a muscle I will shoot you”. I pull out my phone and text Phil quickly. ‘Call 911, a man has taken over my train car with a gun, I got one child out safely but getting the other WILL be a problem, please HURRY’. Sent. Okay now how will I get this little girl out of the car??? I peek around the corner to see how far away from the door she is. Three. Three seats away. I carefully watch the man and wait for my chance. The little girl is looking at me, her eyes full of fear. ‘I will get you out’ I mouth. She nods yes. As soon as the man turned to the wall I get myself in the doorway and wave for the little girl to go, she gets out and to the next car, but I have been spotted by the man. I knew he was watching but I needed to get her out. “Oh we have ourselves a little hero do we?” God I can smell the alcohol on his breath. “Well I’ll show you what I do to hero’s in MY story”. He laughs the most disturbing laugh I’ve ever heard in my life. I close my eyes as he raises the gun to my head. One. I count. I’m so sorry Phil we had so much living to do. Two. I’ll always be with you in spirit. Three. BANG. Is this what death feels like? I didn’t feel a thing. No. This isn’t right. I open my eyes and the gunman is laying on the floor in front of me a shot to the chest. He’s not moving. I look up and see a man holding a gun. He shot the gunman while he was going to kill me. He saved me. “Th-thank you” i stammer out. “You’re going to be okay ma’am, I’m a cop I just needed to wait for the right moment”. I sit down and wait for the train to stop. I get off and yell for a taxi. “Where to?” “To Phil” I said. “We have some more living to do”.

I woke to find I had once again dreamed I was on a moving train. I could not but help to see the beauty from its windows.

It was a picturesque summer day. The train was full of people but I could only hear them from under my cabin door. They were laughing and making such joyful noises. Their happiness brought a joy to my own heart.

Alone in the cabin there was a large number of hardback books. They were all opened to the middle as if I had read all of them halfway through. Was this an indication I was halfway through my life’s journey?

There was a gas lamp hanging from the ceiling. My dream did not take place in my own time.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. I asked who it was and a man’s voice said a fellow traveler. When I opened the door I saw that the stranger was tall, dark and handsome.

“Please pardon me but do have any sugar?” I found this a very funny question so I started to laugh which make him laugh.

He said his name was Henry and he wished to know if he would be permitted to have my next dance. I looked around and saw we were suddenly in a grand ballroom. I was beautify dressed in purple and jewels in the style of the Renaissance.

Henry walked me to the dance floor. As he let go of my hand I saw a bright light that was blinding me. We was back on the train in different clothes than before. Henry was sitting across from me reading one of the books. He looked up at me and smiled. Got up and kissed me. He called me darling and smiled. Then my alarm went off. I threw it across the room and tried to get back to my dream unsuccessfully.

You hear the train horn from a few yards away. You feel yourself starting to get motion sickness. You’ve been on this train for 6 months or so now, although it’s hard to keep track. Your on your way to a far away land. Good luck, you might not make it the rest of the journey.