Not Enough

So many emotions; so little time left to recognize them. So many stories to explain away the circumstances leading up to this moment; only one ending. Fear, pain, anger, regret, all rushing through my head. And...sickening acceptance. There's a train on the track, and there's me in its way. The only way out is death. My name is Shadow, and I am a nobody.

I'm running, but not fast enough; trying, but not hard enough. There is nothing powerful enough to save me now. I picture the passenger's faces, shocked into stillness when they see my pathetic excuse for a body, spread like butter over a train track. Except, I remind myself with a sinking heart, for the simple fact that no one cares. It won't alter the future in any way whether or not this train hits me. I'm unimportant, just a shape on the ground to the minds of the people who never bother to take a second look. 

My life isn't flashing before my eyes - even if it was, I know I would just see a pointless existence, a useless stretch of time spent following the lead of whoever was beside me. Instead, all I see, all I think of is a time when I was young. It was winter, just as it is now, and in a moment of rare Christmas spirit on my family's part, I'd ended up being dragged to the top of a large hill, only to go flying back down it as soon as we got to the top. 

While my companion insisted on sitting on a piece of cheap, flimsy plastic and hurling herself down a hill on it, I would much rather just stay in the gray, sterile building I called home. But, of course, since when had my opinion counted for anything?

Finally, after many hair-raising flights down the hill and endless treks back up, I had only one more to get through before I could leave this place behind me where it belonged and go home. Picking myself up off the snow, I turned to start the trip up the hill for one final time. That was when I saw the boy, hurtling towards me down the hill on his  bright red sledge. I remember bracing myself as he got nearer, nearer, nearer, just as the train does now. Just as they did then, my muscles clench, every inch of me tensing as I wait for the inevitable. 

It's here, too soon. I can see every inch of the train's front with perfect clarity, bright red paint glistening in the brightness of the sun on last night's snow, and the front window gleaming with the polish some poor soul has had to smear on. I hate to ruin their hard work - soon, my blood will have reverted the shining surfaces to a gory mess of congealed red and faint, smeared pink. I close my eyes, forcing back the tears that threaten to make their presence known to all who might see me. I refuse to spend my last few seconds of life crying. The train bears down on me - two meters, one meter, it's here-

But the hit never comes. When I dare to open my eyes, the train is nothing but a fast-receding shape in the distance. It has left no trace, nothing to suggest it was ever here in the first place with the sole exception of my beating heart, pumping faster than ever, as though making up for near death by making the next beats count.

I'm late. 

I almost want to turn for home and plead my parents to call school to say I'm ill, but I know they would never agree to that. I can almost hear the lecture they'd give me, somehow managing to find endless ways of repeating the same thing  in as many ways as they could think of. I'm pounding along my usual route along the railway, pushing myself hard to get through the snow, but I'm still not likely to make it in time. I mentally scold myself, dreading Miss Greene's sharp tongue as she berates me for my lateness. 

After a few minutes of listening to the rhythmic beat of my footsteps on the snow and the beating of my own heart, I find my mind drifting. If this snow continues to stick, I might be able to persuade my parents to take me to the big hill to sledge after school - and maybe this time I won't get hit by a boy coming down on my last go! I remember his red sledge like a horse remembers feeding time.

The familiar sound of a train brings me back to the present, and I watch it approaching, looking up to smile at the passengers. I like the way you can get just a quick glimpse at the people inside and, based on their appearance alone, find out just a little snippet of information about them. Sometimes I make up lives for them, contemplating their views and experiences to pass the time. As the train approaches, I glance down at my shadow lying across the tracks. If it had a mind of its own, what would it be thinking of now?

A/N: Just to make sure it's clear enough, the normal font was the point of view of a shadow, and the italics was the point of view of the person attached to it. I'm not sure if the section from the shadow was too long-winded? Let me know what you think, because I'm not sure about some of this piece. I'm always open to improvements! Thanks for reading! :)

orcapod