Old Black Train

Part 1

"Robert Nesmith?" The conductor asked as Mike stepped into the train.

"Yes, sir," he said quietly, tightening his grip on his guitar case and bag. The conductor smiled at him and punched a few numbers into the machine, causing it to print out a ticket.

"Welcome aboard, Mr. Nesmith," he said warmly, handing it to Mike. "You're in car 5, just keep walking and you'll find it. Four doors down."

"Thank you," Mike sighed and began to try to walk. He was stopped by the conductor placing a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry but you can't bring anything along," he said, gesturing to the guitar case.

"Not even my guitar?" Mike frowned, not ready to give it up.

"I'm afraid so," he nodded. "We can hold onto it if you'd like us to."

"Whatever," Mike sighed, reluctantly handing his things over to him.

The conductor nodded again.

"Welcome aboard."

Mike didn't look up at any point as he began walking to his seat. He knew all the other faces were watching him. "Oh that poor boy," they were probably thinking as he pushed past them, the train beginning to move underneath his feet.

He finally made it to car five and was surprised at what he saw. Three guys, about his age, laughing and playing cards with one another. Nothing like the mournful silence in all the other cars. They all looked up at him and grinned.

"Hi!" One said happily. "Wanna play?"

Mike frowned and walked into the car, taking a seat across from them.

"I thought we weren't allowed to bring any belongings," he muttered, looking at their cards.

"We're not," the blonde one smiled.

"You're not allowed to bring any bags or anything," the first one said with a proud smirk. "They didn't check my pockets so they couldn't stop me from bringing these."

Mike sighed and allowed a small smile of his own to form.

"Why is that?" Mike asked after a while, staring out his window.

"Why's what?" The third asked in a British accent.

"Why can't we bring anything?"

"I think they're worried we'll become too attached to our possessions," the blonde said with a shrug. "I don't know, though."

"'Too attached to our possessions?'" Mike frowned, turning toward them.

"Oh, you missed it!" The first one said happily. "There was a lady in here with us a while ago, they dropped her off and she tried to run back in to grab her bags. They literally had to throw her out!"

"Wow," Mike said, eyes widening.

"Yeah," the Brit agreed. "Some of the people here just don't wanna accept it."

"But some people are allowed to get their stuff," the blonde jumped in. "Sometimes, when it's your stop, they'll let you in the luggage compartment to grab your things before you go. The rest of the time though..."

He looked down.

"You get the idea."

Mike sighed and nodded, pressing his head against the window and looking out. Part of him was expecting to see buildings and trees pass by, but outside was only darkness and a few flashes of light.

"I'm Peter by the way," the blonde said with a slight smile. "And that's Micky and that's Davy." He pointed at the other two who waved when their names were called. Mike didn't answer right away.