45 minutes

45 minute ride






It was an old train. The type of train I love to ride, where every patch of track crossed, makes that distinct familiar sound, and where the aged engine sends slight tremors all across.
This time I’m enjoying solitude. No children scurrying about, no couple trying to live out their romance, no family to describe and show me pictures of their whole 2 week vacation to the salt mines; just the sounds I love and my window to the moving world.
“I should go by train more often” I said while leaning towards the window, trying to catch glimpses of trees, or shades of some distant village. I remember when, as a child I used to make a game out of this: trying to count how many sheep are in a passing flock, or what shape do the clouds mimic;
“That one looks like a fork…”
-Sir? Your ticket please?
-Oh, yes, here.
I leaned back into my seat, and stared outside; as I stared, my eyes became heavy, my breathing slower, and all the sounds around, muffled. While in this state, my eyelids closed only for a heartbeat; and in that heartbeat, a memory flooded my mind and enveloped all senses. Yet it was something new, a scene I had never seen before.


Next to an ivy filled brick wall, a long metal table was placed; on it, an assortment of drinks, and foods, as if prepped for a party.
And around that table, a group of people in their twenties, discussing, arguing, laughing. Amongst them was a woman that was listening, with a smile to all those around them. She seemed tired yet intrigued by the conversations around her and with every smile; she revealed small wrinkles in the corners of her eyes.
But what did peak my interest wasn’t this woman, but the small girl who was sitting next to her. A golden straw hat was shrouding her face, and when her head did lift, she revealed tears with laughter. Through the hiccups, she was trying to say something I didn’t quite understand. The whole group went quiet after that, and their eyes glistened with nostalgia. From this point on, no matter how you looked at it, this seemed more like a goodbye.

I was pulled abruptly from my reverie by the sound of screeching metal followed by the train’s slow stop. Did we arrive at the station? I reached for the luggage, went out the door and off the train; as I raised my eyes a huge green field and clear blue sky were greeting me. This wasn’t the right stop.
With confusion painted all over my face, I went back to my cabin awaiting passengers to get on and the old engine to get back on track. A few minutes had passed; the tremor in the seat was gone, and no one had walked down the hallway this whole time.

“Might as well get some air” I mumbled, and walked outside; no one was in the whole cart and the only sounds were those of grasshoppers. In the distance, beyond the field you could make out the outline of a forest and closer, to the right, the ruins of a stone building: a broken wall and steps to a floor long gone. Now they were crumbling for trying to reach the sky.

When I turned around to climb back on, I realized my train wasn’t going anywhere; for it had no more tracks to ride on. It was stuck in the field like an old car in the junkyard.
A feeling of anxiety was creeping on me more and more as I was rushing though every train cart, in search for a semblance of life. And with every door I was running through with, every desperate look I gave, it was becoming more and more apparent that I was alone. The run left be breathless sweaty, and the stuffed air inside was preventing me from recovering; I threw myself on the grass outside where I lay motionless for hours, thinking. No logical or rational explanation could validate my predicament.
This soft bed of grass was indeed welcoming, and given other circumstances this place would have been a great weekend hideaway. I stretched my open hand towards the sun and glimpsed its power through my fingertips: so far away yet it’s seemed within reach. It was mid-day, and the heat was becoming unbearable. I got up in to search for a spot with shade; at this time I couldn’t even look at the train without reminding me that I was in complete solitude. So I hid in the ruin that someone might of once, called home. As I sat there, back leaned against the wall, my eyes analyzed the decay. Not much to look at: the floor was riddled with broken pieces of brick and red dust; here and there some small daring plant raised its leaves from the cracks added by time; right in front, like a monument dedicated to lost hope the staircase stretched and pointed the way to some great secret, one that age chose to be forever lost. I shared my wall with the last remaining vestige of courtesy this home had to offer. A rust covered door. I like to imagine that many months ago; it was being used to greet family, friends, and all manner of distinguished guests.
Wouldn’t it be ironic? That this door could be a portal, or a solution to my problem. Just that easy: “choose door number one for the grand prize!”
WELL HERE I AM! Said my inner madman, and slammed his body trying to get it open. With a fast, piercing screech the hinges moved, and this madman, had emerged victoriously back into his emerald field. He lowered his head and chuckled, as if disappointed for meeting his expectations.
“Thirsty” was the only thought that flashed though my head after that.
The sun was still up in the sky, keeping this summer day wide awake, and I, was making slow progress, going back to my train, in search for a bottle of water. As I approached, apathy made room for curiosity, and new details focused into view. The paint had lost its coloring, some of the windows had large cracks running through them, a thick coat of dirt and dust encased every nook and cranny, and above all, rust reigned supreme. I couldn’t believe my eyes, so, I climbed on and started to search my compartment; my travel bag was in the exact place where I left it: on the rail above my seat. A pile of bits was in place of the newspaper I bought before I left. With eyes big as onions, and knees weak I let my body rest on the closest chair; action that was followed by an eruption of dust from the chair’s cushion. The whole thing looked like it was abandoned for years; it was starting to resemble the ruin where I had found shelter from the heat…the ruin, the ruin…
THE RUIN! THE DOOR! Something did happen! An odd feeling of joy was born. I got up fast, and ran with great eagerness back to the screeching hinges. If the train moved forward in time because of me passing though the door then that means I actually triggered on purpose an event. And if I triggered one I can do so with another and somehow escape this place.
I didn’t waste one moment when in reach. I grabbed, pulled the knob, and with my eyes closed I stepped in. And as I opened them I found darkness all around me.
The sun shined no more; there was no field and no train in sight; for the building had gotten its second floor back. The stairs had regained their purpose. As a child on Christmas day I rushed upstairs to see what my present was. And what an odd gift it was. A door sealed shut with a metal barricade. Clearly made to keep something out. Or to keep someone in, that person having the choice of isolation at his disposal. Feeling that I had no option, I opened my “present”. And as it opened with a creak, sunshine invaded my darkened room. I was expecting to find a balcony, a terrace, another room, even a dead end but instead I received a trip back into the open space outside. I wanted to yell, to hit the closet thing as hard as I could, so I started to rip all the blades of grass I could reach and walked furiously back to my train to rot there for the rest of my life. But luck wouldn’t even give me that. For it had vanished from its place along with the ruin I had came out of.
I fell, I fell hoping to never get up. The anger receded, leaving me tired, yet relaxed. That mysterious memory came back during this time, and as I closed my eyes I apologized for not solving its puzzle; another question atop others. My mind played the scene over and over again, rewinding every moment ever line, every tear she cried, as if begging me to look for something. I needed to focus so I got up and with my right hand caressed my hair; the typical signal I give for when I’m trying to concentrate. But there was no more need for step retracing and recollecting past events, because in front of me, there was an image I knew well.
In this field, next to an ivy filled brick wall, a long metal table was placed; on it, an assortment of drinks, and foods, as if prepped for a party.
And around that table, a group of people in their twenties, discussing, arguing, laughing. Amongst them was a woman that was listening, with a smile to all those around them. She seemed tired yet intrigued by the conversations around her and with every smile; she revealed small wrinkles in the corners of her eyes. On the chair next to her sat a girl of small stature wearing her golden straw hat which covered her tears. The whole group went quiet after that and the moment froze in time as if painted with oil on a canvas.
And from her frozen state, the woman turned her head towards me and gave an almost motherly smile. She got up from her chair and approached; I took a step back. She stopped, raised her head at me and asked: “How long are you going to keep searching?”
I couldn’t utter one word.

“You want to ask me where you are; but you already know”.
“I’m here to provide answers for your questions, the answers that you gave me”
she added.
I felt no need to speak anymore so instead I shifted my view on the girl. Seeing me, the woman added:
“You wanted something that you could cling to for when the world crumbles, so you have created the image you could never give up on. She’s your shield and your weapon, so keep her close.
I have given you the answer you need.Now don’t you think it’s time to stop?”
And with that final question, a curtain of darkness fell over her, over the girl and the ivy filled wall, and the emerald-like field faded from view. I started to hear the gentle hum of the engine, and felt those ever familiar tremors.
I have found myself back on the train, now waiting for passengers to board. I had been asleep for the last 45 minutes. I leaned back in my seat, still thinking about my adventure, when the door to my compartment opened.
Through the door, came in, struggling with her luggage, a girl wearing a golden straw hat.








         Thank you for taking the time to read my very first story. I wrote this because all my friends and girlfriend asked me to try writing one of my stories at least once.This one is actually a dream of mine that finished in a similar manner.I'm not sure if I should keep writing now.

                             Adrian Kiwy