Jubilee Line

there's nobody here,

". . . . . . . ."

Wilbur hit the ground with a thud.

How long had he been falling? It could have been years, or perhaps only a few hours.

Falling through the void was what life was, and what it had always been.

Was there a life before this?

He didn't know.

Wilbur lay there, in the pure darkness, thinking. He tried to remember, he tried to recall something of a world. Maybe even a home, or a family.

. . .

He knew of only one thing.

My name is Wilbur Soot.

He opened his eyes. All around him was nothing but pure darkness, pressing on him from all angles. His eyes strained for some light to satisfy his aching retinas, but there was no light to be found.

He got up slowly, his whole body aching. His gloved hands raked the ash-coated ground, and he found that it was freezing. The air was cold, too, like ice-coated fingers grasping his skin. No doubt that there was nothing in this place, not even energy. The only thing occupying the vast area was the filthy ground and him.

He took a staggering step forward, a sudden pain in his right leg lancing up his body and stabbing the underside of his tongue. He winced and collapsed on the cold, cold ground, the sound of him colliding with it echoing off of the ash.

Grunting in pain, he lifted himself once more and flung his gloved hands out in an attempt at balance.

Falling for so long must have messed me up! He thought and laughed to himself. He didn't think there would ever be an end to the falling or a beginning for that matter. For all he knew, this world of nothingness could be the start of his existence.

But yet. . . a familiar sound was still echoing around his mind; the sound of grief and regret, coming in sob after sob. A familiar scent of ash and smoke was still stuck in his lungs, and a feeling of exhilaration was leaving traces in his mind. He reached for the memories attached to these feelings, and yet whenever he tried to grasp them, it was yanked out of his reach.

. . .

Wilbur traced a finger up his neck, thinking, and tapped on the scar that was now formed there. A smooth indent on his skin that ended in a sharp point on both sides. As soon as he touched it, a million memories crowded into his mind within the space of one moment.

A man standing before him holding a sword in both hands.

The smell of ash, smoke and dust-coated Wilbur's tongue and throat.

Wilbur scraping his knees on the rocky ground as he knelt before the man.

The feeling of a sword cutting into his skin.

The taste of blood in his mouth.

Seeing a blazing fire outside of the cave before the man blocked his view with black curtains.

The man caressing him in his arms.

The sound of the man sobbing in grief and choking on his cries.

The feeling of being yanked from his body and thrown into a void.

Wilbur gasped and stumbled forward, recovering from the blast of memories.

I had a life before this. He thought through an oncoming headache, What comes now?

He looked around once more, straining his light-denied pupils. His eyes, having time to adjust to the darkness, spotted a faint, hardly noticeable light in the distance. Surprise and anticipation coursed through his entire body, and he wrapped his cloak around himself as he started towards it.

The closer and closer he got, the void's cold temperatures dropped away, leaving him warmer and warmer the closer he got. The light grew larger until he got close enough to see where the light was coming from.

Wilbur stopped, and let go of the cape he had wrapped around himself for hours. In front of him was an average train.

It was a long, cream-coloured train with large metallic windows lining the sides, and a smooth top. It had shiny silver wheels, which matched the sliver that lined each train car.

Wilbur looked around hesitantly for a few moments. Behind him was nothing but darkness, no doubt for an infinite amount of space. Here, in the middle of nowhere, stood a train. It looked warm and welcoming, and less lonely than the void behind him.
Will breathed a sigh of relief and took a few steps towards the train doors,  reaching for the handles. He jolted back in surprise as they swung open as if they'd been waiting for him all this time. He glanced around one last time and stepped onto the stainless steel flooring.

As soon as he set foot inside the train, the doors behind him slammed shut. He walked casually down the aisle and took a seat on a greyish-blue bench seat, grasping the metal handle above him.

The train began to move.

". . . . . . . ."