Soul Splitters

Celestial

Autumn stood on the platform, bewildered. Her tattered boots and laddered jeggings only added to her worn look as she adjusted her once white, bloodstained jumper. Her side parted, long brown hair fell across her pale, soft face. A lonely tear hung on her cheek leaving a trail from her big deep brown eyes.

The boy who looked older than she was, held out his hand. "Come on then, I can't leave you out here." She let it float there for a second caressing the open air before she took it, judging it was trustworthy.

The boy sported a tight white shirt, branded heavily with words that would once have meant something to her. Signified expensive tastes or his ability to keep up with the trends, they didn't mean anything to her now. He followed the shirt with a pair of worn, baggy jeans in a faded blue that suited his white canvas shoes. Autumn looked up at her new acquaintance; his well defined jaw shaped his face, his large looking nose and small eyes that looked deeply at his surroundings, soaked up the world around and his messy brown but attemptedly tamed hair hung around his ears. His cheek was scarred down the left side from his eyebrow to his lip like the skin had cracked, his piercing blue eyes met her gaze his arms were tightened by his side and his muscles clenched as if ready to lash out. He led her across the platform and down some stone steps before heading out into the dark surroundings. They followed a path made of chits of stone, surrounded by an expanse of grass. Neither spoke for the length of the journey, eventually the path was overtaken by more grass and Autumn saw a house nearby. They came to a small wooden door, brass hinged and ancient. He swung it open and sunk inside, Autumn hovered by the door for a moment taking in the cottage style house which had three floors. The house was a caricature of the houses she could vaguely remember from home, here the windows were too large and the door was wider at the top than at the bottom. She gingerly stepped inside.

*

The empty platform echoed the sound of little shoes slapping against the hard stone floor. A young blond girl in a red tunic pattered onto the cold hard cement and worriedly searched for signs of a train. The chucka chucka of pistons surged up in the distance and the girl relaxed and stood serenely waiting for the train to arrive. All this was observed by the figure in the shadows, watching this girl, this cheater. Why should she get on the train? The cloaked silhouette eyed her closely and began to creep forward. Chucka Chucka. Slowly he edged, his cloak rippling in the oncoming wind. Chucka Chucka. The girl stepped behind the faded yellow line. Chucka Chucka the train burst into visibility on the platform screeching its breaks. The hooded figure counted silently and then rested its hands on the girls back. She flinched with shock. The hands pushed forwards. She passed the yellow line and passed into the path of the oncoming train. The deathly silence that weighed down on the air lasted for about a good 15 seconds noted the cloaked fiend. The train grounded to a halt a metre passed the figure and the figure walked over to the doors but as usual they wouldn't spring open in a welcoming way. Like they would've done for the girl.

*

Autumn sipped gingerly at the warm drink, her head felt tight and was pulsating with the beginnings of a headache. It was generally warm in here with the big orange glow of the fire lamps and the garish pumpkin coloured walls. The dark haired boy in his tight white tee was now talking to a shortish girl with a mousy blonde bob and a pink hooded fleece that might once have been bright fuchsia but since had faded with age. They were whispering and occasionally stole a glance at her. The boy looked at her worriedly but the girl, whom Autumn liked more, looked at her more warmly, understandingly even. Autumn sat where she had been placed, at the end of a homely wooden table. She felt alien to herself, it was disorientating like times when she had woken up on holiday and expected to see her familiar bedroom. She tried to remember how she had got here but nothing came to her. It was an exam she hadn't studied for. Her name was Autumn, she was 17 years old. She knew that, but nothing more. Did she have a family? A home? Was this home? No, she had never been here before - as far as she knew. She soaked in the room; it was heavily decorated with paintings some of the platform she recognised and of the bridge she had crossed. Others Autumn didn't know such as the big painting of an oasis and another smaller painting of a gold framed mirror. She glanced over at the boy and girl who were still deep into their emphatically whispered conversation. They were over by what appeared to be some kind of kitchen space which had an old, black, Victorian looking stove with two little windows through which she saw logs for a fire, the boy finished talking to the girl and stood fixed in the kitchen. Autumn turned her gaze to the girl in the pink hoodie.