Train of Thought (Part 1)
Consider it, I don’t know, a warning. The note was left taped on the shower door with those seven words typed up in small letters on an otherwise blank white piece of paper. It was neatly centered in the middle of the page and just stared at him from its resting place as he prepared to take a shower. He ripped it off the tape and flipped it over several times, but couldn’t find out who was trying to warn him of something.
Alex Duval shook his head and put the note on the kitchen table before shutting the door and going to work. The morning was foggy and wet, as usual mornings in New York were in the middle of spring. The metro station was only a few minutes walk from his apartment, but the words of the note started to worry him and he hitched a taxi down the station. Considering the small amount of cash he ever carried with him, it was easier to pay for the small fare to the station, he thought, than the long ride to the office. Besides, he added to help convince himself as the taxi pulled up, no one would kill in the middle of a train full of people.
“Something got you down?” the driver asked, looking at the young man from the rear-view mirror.
“Just take me to the nearest metro station,” he said, avoiding eye contact with the driver. He looked out the window at the people passing by and at the constant stops of traffic flow he would check that the two back doors were locked.
“Well fine, keep that to yourself,” the driver said after a long moment of silence, “Besides, here’s the station.”
Alex thanked the man and apologized for his silence, giving him an extra tip. When all exchanges were in order, he boarded the train. Alex always stepped into the fourth car from the driver ever since he had first used this route to his, then, new job. He considered moving into another car, but he had made a few friends and they all had traditions of going into that particular car. This is getting really silly, he told himself as he walked down the platform, no one is going to harm you. It’s just a stupid note. After spotting his friend’s face as soon as he stepped in, Alex breathed a sigh of relief.
“You look like you’ve seen the dead; what happened?” his friend said, moving his duffel bag over a seat.
“Whatever, Tony. I don’t really want to talk about it.”
“I’m on your side, whatever happens,” Tony said and turned towards the window.
The train lurched forward with a metallic slide and sped creakily down the track. Buildings flew by like streaks of gray on a big white canvas that was the sky. The sky eventually disappeared as the train flew further and further in the heart of the city. Even at this early in the morning, New York was throbbing with intensity especially as it started waking up and drinking coffee. The honking of cars was evident in the train car as it slowed down and reached its first destination.
“You sure you’re ok? You haven’t even pulled out your notebook yet,” Tony said glancing at Alex, worry etching his delicate features. Tony was a tall lanky gentleman that looked nineteen no matter how many years went by. His hair was a short dark chocolate brown that would reflect sunlight even though there was none in New York. He was a photographer for the New York Times, so he was always with his camera, sometimes taking pictures of whatever Alex chose to write about during the commute.
Alex shrugged and smiled. “I’ve written all I’ve seen about going into New York. After six months of this routine there’s nothing left to describe.”
“Don’t give me that,” Tony smiled back and went back to looking out the dirty window. “You’ve written about people not just the scenery.”
“Well, after six months, they haven’t changed much either.”
It was the following Saturday when he thought about the letter again and it was the last Saturday he remembered. He was waiting for his boss at the lower Manhattan train station when a tall lanky woman came up to him. Her blue eyes scanned him from his brown eyes down to his black dress shoes and up again lingering where his hands were shoved into his pockets. He turned away from her and started farther down the station.
Don’t go, she said, her voice echoing through his head. You’re that novelist. I’ve heard about you; you’ve saved those kids from that earthquake last year. You’ve got a silver heart.
He turned around. “Most people would not agree.”
Well, you only have a silver heart, not one of gold. Still, she walked over to him and ran her hand from his shoulder down his back, you seem like the type of person who’d be interested in helping out a good cause.
He stepped away from her. “Sorry, I don’t hire prostitutes.”
She laughed a dinner-bell sort of laugh that melted his previous inhibitions. Her mouth curled into a smile as she pulled up beside him, her hands now at her sides and she made no other move toward him.
You think the train is done for the day, she said looking him in the eyes with a cold intensity, but it’s only just begun. You see, this train likes stories and secrets—it has such a vast collection. When it pulls up to the station, it will wait for you like always until the next train pushes it away. Tonight, you take the first one and, like always, I’ll be in the second. I can promise you, she finished as the rumble of a train grew in intensity, no one will hurt you.
The train pulled up to the platform and smiled. Well hello sugar, it seemed to say and slid in neatly so he could take the first car. Alex stepped back warily and looked for the woman. She had disappeared with the first train’s arrival, which ironically had signaled the butterflies in his stomach to flap their wings frantically. Ain’t ‘cha gonna get in? the train said, pouting playfully. Alex looked up the stairs for his boss, but didn’t see anyone or hear anything besides the rhythmic breathing of the train.
Consider it, I don’t know, a warning, he recalled. The rumble of a second train with more masculine intensity started crescendoing as he stood. Damn, the first train said under her breath and started pulling away.
Alex was never one to go towards an adventure, and he knew this. But the overwhelming feeling of last chance opportunity was too much. Curiosity and guilt were the only things driving him as he ran towards the closing doors of the first train. In an excited squeal, the train picked up the pace and raced down the track, blurring the graffiti darkness to streaks.
“Well hello there,” a little boy with small pointed ears ran up to where Alex had tumbled into the train. His little stubs of glittery wings flapped frantically as the boy helped Alex up. “Are you here to tell stories?”
Alex sat down on the nearest seat. “I suppose so.”
“All right then,” the boy sat down on the floor and flapped his wings expectantly.
Alex rubbed the back of his neck. “How about this one: once upon a time—”
“Oh, yeah! I forgot to mention. Every time you tell an original story, whoever is trapped on the train car, gets to leave. You can only tell one story in each car and as soon as the train stops, you’re finished forever. Sometimes there are lots of people on each car, but you only have to tell one story to free everybody. If you don’t satisfy the train, she keeps you here.”
“Ah,” Alex said. “Well then…hmmm.”
The boy bounced his knees up and down. “Please don’t take too long.”
Alex sighed and looked at the little boy. “Once upon a time, there was a little boy named David. David had a curse where he had to answer whatever question someone asked him truthfully. David was part of a secret organization with a secret underground base beneath the castle. The only reason why he was part of this organization was because he was the king’s son. There was a big problem when spies would ask David where they could find this secret base or any information they had talked about because David would have to answer truthfully to their questions. This was very bad not only for the group but also for the king. So the king sent his son on a mission to end his curse.”
During Alex’s story, the boy would occasionally look up at the lights and duck his head like something might fall from the ceiling of the car. When nothing would happen, the boy would smile and continue nodding and watching Alex. After a point, Alex would look up at the lights to make sure they were still their florescent bluish white. He wasn’t sure what the boy was afraid of in the ceiling, but the constant glances towards the lights were starting to increase his nervousness.
“David had to first go to the house of an old witch who lived in a small hut in the middle of the forest.”
The train lights flickered and turned pink. The ride became rickety and the train sped up. “Oh, no,” the boy said shifting so he was sitting on his knees. “She didn’t like that very much.”
Not original enough, Alex thought. “But you see, this witch was a toad and her hut was in a tree. So it was exceptionally hard to find.” The lights flickered again, but this time turned back to white and the train was moving slower and smoother down the track. “Fortunately, the king had a map to where this witch lived for she was a citizen of the kingdom. When David reached the tree, he slipped money in the little hole at the bottom and waited. The toad came out and said ‘how may I help you?’ and David said ‘I need your help removing this curse.’ So, the witch pulled out her magic wand,” the train lights dimmed red, “and waved her slimy fingers,” the lights got more red and the boy started to whimper, “and then in an anti-climactic motion, she went back into her tree. No bright lights, no other words,” Alex added as the lights returned to normal. “So, David wasn’t sure whether or not she had really done his bidding. But he returned to the castle anyway, because he was a smart boy who knew never to question anything a witch does. The king seeing his son’s doubt asked David if he had stolen the money to pay the witch. Now both the king and David knew the answer, and both knew it was a test, so David said that he had (which was a lie). Both father and son rejoiced and David was allowed back into the secret society. The End.”
The lights flickered and the train slowed to a stop in front of a dark gray station. The little boy cheered, but Alex paid no attention to that. He stood up quickly, the back of his neck tingling. The station lights flew on to reveal an empty platform and a set of glowing yellow stairs. Alex held onto the edge of the car door and peered out, but the little boy pushed him out in excitement. The car billowed with little children all jumping out and cheering. The first little boy Alex had told the story to had already bounded up the golden steps and the other little children followed his lead. A few of the more polite ones thanked him, before running up the stairs.
The train let off a hiss of engine as the last little one waddled off to join with the others. All children, he thought awestruck. The train whistled again and moved forward. The door to the second car opened and, sighing, Alex got in.
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