Dreams: A Compilation of Short Stories

Story X: The Station

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It should definitely have been here by now! I glance again down the empty tracks, and as far as I can see, there is no train. I can't see very far anyhow, for its night, and the tracks are submerged in an inky blackness, no moon, no stars. Just a couple tungsten coloured street lamps along the edge of the station.

I wait a few more minutes, then feel a drop of wetness splash on my nose. The clouds were finally releasing their long held in flood of water. It began to pour. I realized now that I forgot to bring my umbrella, how stupid of me, so I move back under the small covered canopy along the wall. I continue staring into the darkness, now with a sheet of falling water in front of me.

I then look to my left, then right. Of course, I'm alone. I'm always alone.

Suddenly, a light begins to flicker, casting strange shadows on the falling rain, then it looses it's luminosity all together. Now I'm left alone, and with only one dim lamp keeping the station from falling into an unforgiving darkness. I'm starting to get frightened, but as long as that lamp stays on, I'll be fine. The rain gets louder, splashing on the stations floor.

The other light finally flickers, and goes out, plunging the world into the cold darkness. I press my back against the wall and stick my hands in my pocket, I shouldn't fear the dark, it's just a coincidence that both of the lights should go out simultaneously. Just a silly thing, not to dwell on for too long. Then the voices began.

They were female, and they were singing a beautiful graceful song, like a choir of angels. It sent shivers down my spine. The sound of rain was gone now, there was only me and the voices.

They sang for a good while. When they finally halted, I felt dizzy and disoriented. Their music was intoxicating. I did not know why. A minute of silence. I started to walk around, at least I thought I was walking. I could barely feel my feet moving, and I could not sense the rain either. It's like my senses were numbed. The voices began again, men and women, but now they were just talking; talking about things they have lost, and will never be returned to them. They talked about life, death, love, hate. Places they've seen, real, and from their wildest dreams as well.

They were speaking to no one; for their was no one there to listen. No one to heal their pain. No one to consider who they really are. Who they were.