Skybreak [not to be continued]

V

It was Monday morning and I awoke to the light streaming through my bedroom window - the result of forgetting to shut my curtains last night. I dragged myself out of bed and downstairs for food and breakfast; I was starving. I knew I was getting a train in a few hours, and I hoped that I would leave before my parents woke up. How could they be so heartless? 

The familiar tune of The Fray's 'Heartless' flew through my head and I muttered the words as I walked arounf the kitchen:

"In the night, I hear 'em talk, the coldest story ever told. Somewhere far along this road he lost his soul to a woman so heartless. How could you be so heartless? How could you be so heartless?

I'd booked a hotel for a week, just a small place in the outside of town, and was going to meet up with some distant family member who was studying in London (who had mentioned possibly letting me out a room in their flat) sometime during the week. The train left the town near us for Waterloo station at 6:34 and it was just before 5 now. Everything was organised. I was ready to go.

~

The taxi pulled up to the train station and I dragged myself, my bags and my guitar out of it.

Walking into the station made me realise how real this all was. I was going to London! I received my ticket and sat waiting down on one of the cold, hard plastic chairs for the platform number to be called, scrolling through my phone finding some good music to listen to. Whatever song I had on was always followed by something I was or had studied for music, and I was constantly reminded of my A levels which I would be taking in a few months. It was scary. I was leaving my town, the life that I'd known forever, to move temporarily to the biggest city here in England. London.

I relaxed back into the plastic, it warming up slightly as I sat there, slowly sipping from the polystyrene cup of badly-made hot chocolate that I had purchased in the station shop only a few minutes earlier. I had an addiction to hot chocolate, so needless to say I always would be buying it before travelling or going anywhere.

I went to check the time on my phone, and got slightly distracted by an important game of Doodle Jump, before switching it off again and looking around for a sign which should inform me where to go. As I scanned the room, a computerised voice streamed loudly through the speakers above me, making me jump.

"The 6:34 train to Waterloo Station, London will be pulling into at platform 6 at the predicted arrival time of 6:32. That is platform 6 for the 6:34 train to Waterloo Station. Thank you."

I leapt out of my seat, being careful not to splash my hot chocolate over myself, and grabbed my bags: slinging some over my shoulder before clutching onto my guitar case and heading up the endless flights of stairs toward the upper story where the platforms and tracks were. It was hard work and took a lot of effort to carry a guitar, rucksack and a hot chocolate (which was keeping my hands a little too warm) up the stairs, but I did manage and arrived on the platform at 6:25, with plenty of time to spare.

I was alone on the platform - only being accompanied by the bags I carried with me. I sat down and continued to listen to music, awaiting the train's arrival.

I always listened to music: my headphones rarely left my ears except from when I slept. In a way, I felt like my life was a continuous film (which I starred in), and the music was the soundtrack, a soundtrack to my life. When I put it into that concept it sounded quite cool, but honestly I just really liked listening to music because it made me happy. What's the point in living life if you're not happy?

I lost all my concentration in my thoughts and my eyes wondered freely around the landscape, subconsciously scanning it. I was not a morning person and before long, my eyelids felt heavier and I knew I have to sleep on the journey to London if I wanted to stay awake today.

The speaker announced that the train would be arriving any moment now and so I stood up, briefly making eye contact with a homeless man who was slightly stooped over on the platform opposite me, his posture once perfect but now hunched and crippled. Glancing to my left, I could see a foot bridge to the opposite platform only a few metres away from me; I left my bags on the platform and carrying a £20 note in my hand, I ran across the bridge to hand it to the man crouched on the other side.

As I placed it in his worn and dirt-caked hands, he looked up at me and cracked a smile of gratitude.

"Thank you." He spoke softly, pure honestly oozing from his tone. "You are a very kind person. I see you are heading to London? May I ask what you’ll be doing?"

My eyes quickly flickered to my watch to check the time, and I spoke swiftly to the man, my tone of voice explaining I was in a hurry. “Something … bad happened here, and I’m just getting away from it for a few weeks. I’m hoping to get up there and do some busking; you see, I play my guitar – it’s in its case just over there – and I want to get out there, have some fun.”

“Well,” he replied, smiling at me, “Have fun. I hope we meet again, and thank you very much for the money.”

I smiled at him and muttered a quiet 'you're welcome', before sprinting back to my bags, as I could see the train appearing in the distance. I got back to where I was originally stood in time for the train, as it pulled up slowly but noisily in front of me.

I stepped on to it, and seated myself -staring out of the window at the town I was leaving behind. The homeless man that I had donated money to, stood in my view and raised his hand in a military salute, again to say thank you. I only smiled back at him as the train's engine restarted and we pulled out of my life and headed off into the new.