A Collection of Stories

The Train

The window panes threatened to shatter as the train rumbled over the rocky tracks. The train carriage swayed left and right, unwilling yet curious of derailment. It was near impossible to sleep but the man beside me had overcome the large feat. I had gotten used to the damp muskiness that soaked the air. The train was well-worn with poorly maintained facilities and maroon seats with faded green detailing. The fabric was coarse and itchy against my thighs, making the ordeal much more unbearable. The light overhead flickered weakly as the train lurched vehemently around the bend. Racks of luggage were stuffed overhead. One of the keychains attached to a bag swung in tandem with every jerk of the carriage, ringing out whenever it was unfortunate enough to clash with the metal rail.

My only solace was the scenery flitting by through the window. Even so, I was dwelling in immense regret for my failure of clinching better seats. Beside me, the window presented a view of the sea, tinkling gently under the grace of the moonlight. That view was unfortunately obstructed by a family of three. On my end, I was granted a considerably mediocre view of the dark silhouette of a forest, its jagged edges biting into the night sky. I wrinkled my nose as my eyes fell on a large greasy smudge smeared on the glass. My skin prickled with awareness as I wondered when the carriage was last cleaned. I sighed and adjusted my hood, closing my eyes to shutter out the warm glow of the light above.

Simon shifted beside me in his sleep, deep in the clutches of a dream only he could see and hear. We've been friends for years, courtesy of the major we study. Being practically inseparable was an understatement. It was a relief to be able to confide in one another and the unyielding support was greatly appreciated.

Summer break had finally arrived and we had decided to escape the sweltering heat of the city with an impromptu trip into the mountains. A reprieve. Simon didn't reveal the location as a 'surprise' but he assured me there were good reviews and there was internet reception. That sealed the deal so we packed and boarded the steam train en route.

Something tickled my nose and I scrunched my nose in a pathetic attempt to avoid the tickling sensation of the multitude of dust and fabric fibres drifting around. The baby beside us began wailing in earnest, disrupting the rumbling of the train. That was the cherry on top. My legs could not breathe and my knees were pressed into the seats in front of me. It was cheap and nothing else could beat that factor so I was obliged to sit for the five-hour ride.

My nose tickled at the faint smell of rotten eggs. It was getting stronger by the minute. I glanced surreptitiously towards the baby as I watched the parents scramble in search of a new diaper. Another child near the back began to kick and scream, jolting Simon up. A quick check of his phone made him sigh. Two hours to go. He had woken up too early. People around us were beginning to stir, muttering in malcontent.

The door to the front of the carriage slid open. A woman around my age entered unceremoniously. Readjusting the woollen hat obscuring her face, she shifted a stack of flyers on her arm to a more comfortable position. It was clear her only goal other than to survive was to preach her religion. I pulled the hood of my hoodie lower over my face. I had no interest in these things. Whatever I did highlight my presence because I saw her heels click to a stop beside me. She left a flyer on my lap and clicked away.

I scanned through the flyer. It was promoting the opening of an animal farm. Cartoon pigs and cows were plastered on the front of the flyer. It was pretty ordinary other than a picture of a chicken being blasted out of a canon of green confetti. The chicken was holding onto a banner with the address and time of the event.

Folding the paper into quarters, I left the paper in the front pocket of the seat. My destination probably wouldn't be close to the farm. Someone with an ounce of interest could find the flyer to be of greater use.