Fantasy and feelings...

The Stranger on the Train

Circa 1862... The train to London had just come to a stop and passengers flocked in and out of the coaches. Among those who were boarding, a young man silently made his way across the platform. With a book and pencil in his hand, a gust of wind came swift and sudden. He clutched his coat but forgot about his hat, evident by it dancing about in the breeze.

"Oop, oh my! Nearly lost this, haven't you? Well, here you are sir."

He said nothing as the kind stranger handed it back to him.

"Oh... your hands are full, and the wind's blowing strong. Never mind, I shall stay with you and hold your hat until we arrive at your coach, if you'll pardon me. Now, which one is it?

The stranger's eyes twinkled and a playful smile lit his face when the young man produced his ticket.

"My word! We shall be sharing a coach. A jolly coincidence, how nice!"

The whistle blew. The train was about to leave. They both climbed in and settled into their coach just in time, for the train began moving as soon as they sat down.

"We made it! And not a moment too soon, I may add."

The stranger held out the hat.

"I believe this ought to be returned to your possessions. My name is Benedict. Benedict Hudson. A pleasure to make your acquaintance."

The young man took the hat and gave a little bow before scribbling something in his book.

"Thank you. I very much appreciated your help, Mr Hudson. My name is William. William Milton. The pleasure is all mine."

"Haha, oh my, I do know this is the Quiet Compartment but there is really no need to be so discreet. We aren't in the Diogenes Club, Mr Milton!"

He was very much intrigued and slightly amused by his silent companion. Milton smiled apologetically before penning his reply.

"I'm sorry if my silence unsettled you. But I am afraid I am unable to speak."

"Think nothing of it, Mr Milton. I was merely...surprised and... intrigued. I do apologise for my brash and rude comment. Please forgive me."

Hudson's panicked apologies earned a giggle from Milton.

"Think nothing of it, it was a harmless query."

The trip was rather pleasant. Hudson made up for Milton's silence with his warm chatter. Milton would smile, nod, giggle and scribble his replies whenever needed.

"Do you fancy art, Mr Milton? Or do you fancy writing?"

"I rather fancy the art of the portrait sketch. I have quite a few here, in my book. You can have a look, if you wish to."

His hand extended the book to Hudson. Hudson felt the weight of it as Milton's fingers left the book. The sketches were immaculate. The faces so detailed, down to the smallest of wrinkles and flecks of light in the eyes. There were so many people, old and young, male and female, healthy and sickly, fit and hurt. The sketches looked real enough that he half-expected the faces to suddenly talk.

"Mr. Milton, these are spectacular! How do you capture their faces with such detail and variety? I am amazed!"

"It took a long time for me to perfect my skills. All these people were real. I acquainted with them during work."

"What do you do for a living?"

His lips quirked into a mysterious smile before he slowly penned his reply.

"Transportation. I guide people to where they need to go."

"Ah, that sounds nice. I make my living at a hospital. I'm a doctor."