A man wearing a long dark coat hefted a heavy suitcase as the train pulled into the station. A few people got off and soon the conductors signaled all aboard. As other people hurried into the train, the man hefted his suitcase up the step in the doorway, turned right and walked down the crowded aisle, patiently waiting as women stowed their shopping bags and gathered their children. He then sat in a seat next to another older man who seemed engrossed in a book, shoving the heavy suitcase beneath the seat.
The train soon huffed and shuddered into action, followed soon after by the conductors gathering tickets, "tickeTS!" and punching holes in them. The conductor paused when he reached the man with the heavy suitcase. "Bartonvillia? Not many get off there anymore," he said as he punched the ticket.
The man in the dark coat said nothing, but nodded. The conductor moved on to the next seats. "tickeTS!"
There isn't much to look at on the way past Silvertown, especially in the evening, just a few lights in the farms that float by the train windows. So everyone seemed to just stare at the others, sometimes looking at their watches, sometimes looking in their pockets for things. The man in the dark coat sat motionless, staring at nothing.
There were two children in the seats a couple rows ahead that looked back over their seats. They were perhaps 7, at most 9, and they had impish looks in their eyes as they scanned the people behind them. They both seemed to freeze as their eyes met those of the man with the dark coat. He looked back at them as though they were rats. He then looked away, staring at the exit sign over the door at the end of the car.
There were several towns yet to go, but the man felt somewhat relieved that the woman and her children left at the next stop, in Candlewood. No one else got on the train to replace them. The man with the dark coat closed his eyes and leaned back to rest his head against the small padding. It was not long until the train had chugged and shuddered up to speed again.
There were mostly small farms and trailer parks out this far, at least until the high walls and turrets of Bartonvillia Monastery. No one ever went there except on a few certain days, like the upcoming Day of The Bones.
As the people got off the train in ones and twos on these stations in the sticks, there eventually was only the old man who read his book and the man with the dark coat and heavy suitcase, sitting on the same row.
However when Roselander stop came along, the second to last stop, the old man closed his book, mummbled "Excusa, Excusa...", arose and hobbled past the man with the dark coat and his suitcase. He walked as though he had no pain free joints, with a cane, and slowly lowered himself to the step and then to the landing. The last sounds of him were the clop clop of his cane on the wooden platform.
Then there was merely the dark coated man and the conductor to hear the huffing and clanking of the train as it labored to its last passenger stop. Not many stopped there, but their was one who would. Even so close to his stop, the man with the dark suit was almost nodding off, only to be awoken with "Next Stopppp! Bartonvillia!
As the train huffed to a stop, the man hefted his suitcase and as soon as the door hissed opened, stepped down to the cobblestones and looked over to the dimly illuminated street leading toward the caretaker's house, and sighed. There was no one near the train stop, no one on the street. He shifted his heavy suitcase to his better arm and walked the noisy cobblestone path to the street. Behind him the train shuddered a few moments, then began to backup the opposite direction it had just traveled.
(continues...)
The train soon huffed and shuddered into action, followed soon after by the conductors gathering tickets, "tickeTS!" and punching holes in them. The conductor paused when he reached the man with the heavy suitcase. "Bartonvillia? Not many get off there anymore," he said as he punched the ticket.
The man in the dark coat said nothing, but nodded. The conductor moved on to the next seats. "tickeTS!"
There isn't much to look at on the way past Silvertown, especially in the evening, just a few lights in the farms that float by the train windows. So everyone seemed to just stare at the others, sometimes looking at their watches, sometimes looking in their pockets for things. The man in the dark coat sat motionless, staring at nothing.
There were two children in the seats a couple rows ahead that looked back over their seats. They were perhaps 7, at most 9, and they had impish looks in their eyes as they scanned the people behind them. They both seemed to freeze as their eyes met those of the man with the dark coat. He looked back at them as though they were rats. He then looked away, staring at the exit sign over the door at the end of the car.
There were several towns yet to go, but the man felt somewhat relieved that the woman and her children left at the next stop, in Candlewood. No one else got on the train to replace them. The man with the dark coat closed his eyes and leaned back to rest his head against the small padding. It was not long until the train had chugged and shuddered up to speed again.
There were mostly small farms and trailer parks out this far, at least until the high walls and turrets of Bartonvillia Monastery. No one ever went there except on a few certain days, like the upcoming Day of The Bones.
As the people got off the train in ones and twos on these stations in the sticks, there eventually was only the old man who read his book and the man with the dark coat and heavy suitcase, sitting on the same row.
However when Roselander stop came along, the second to last stop, the old man closed his book, mummbled "Excusa, Excusa...", arose and hobbled past the man with the dark coat and his suitcase. He walked as though he had no pain free joints, with a cane, and slowly lowered himself to the step and then to the landing. The last sounds of him were the clop clop of his cane on the wooden platform.
Then there was merely the dark coated man and the conductor to hear the huffing and clanking of the train as it labored to its last passenger stop. Not many stopped there, but their was one who would. Even so close to his stop, the man with the dark suit was almost nodding off, only to be awoken with "Next Stopppp! Bartonvillia!
As the train huffed to a stop, the man hefted his suitcase and as soon as the door hissed opened, stepped down to the cobblestones and looked over to the dimly illuminated street leading toward the caretaker's house, and sighed. There was no one near the train stop, no one on the street. He shifted his heavy suitcase to his better arm and walked the noisy cobblestone path to the street. Behind him the train shuddered a few moments, then began to backup the opposite direction it had just traveled.
(continues...)
1 comment:
You made some excellent points there. I did a search on the topic and almost not got any specific details on other websites, but then great to be here, really, thanks.
- Lucas
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