The Journey

«The Journey» by A.A.Alejo

The pace is steady, but the journey is long. Too long. I never thought I’d be here. I can’t believe I am. I take a look around and see the wagon’s almost empty. There are only two others in here with me. I ponder on whether I should engage them but I reject that thought immediately. We’re all here for a reason. We need to take a look inside. It’s supposed to be an introspective journey after all.

I think it scares me that I’m not afraid. After all, I don’t know what’s next, or even if there’s anything at all. But I’m unmoved. I’m not impressed or altered either. I seem to be devoid of most emotions in here. How else would we be safe?

I think I doze off. When I open my eyes again, the train is still moving and my mind is still trying to settle. I look outside the window and all I can see are different shades of light. I can’t make out anything else. Maybe there’s nothing there. Why would there be? Too distracting. I turn my gaze the other side and I notice someone’s sitting right next to me: “When did you get in?”

“Just now”, the little boy replies. He starts talking and I’m just thinking he’s keeping me away from what I’m supposed to be doing, but pretty soon I forget what I’m supposed to be doing and I get lost in a meaningless conversation that seems to be going on for hours.

After a while I realize only the boy’s talking and I can’t even make out his words anymore. They don’t make sense. This reminds me of a dream I once had. I close my eyes and try to shut out the noise of his chatting. When I open them, he’s gone. He’s not even in the wagon. What happened? Has he got off already? Has it been so easy for him?

Thinking the key may be to let it all out of you, I decide to approach one of the other passengers. I choose the one closest to me, three seats ahead. When she turns around to meet my eye, I realize it’s my granny, but a much younger version of her that the one I remember. It’s the one of my childhood. A tear rolls down my eye, and she immediately starts comforting me, just as she always had before she passed. I’ve missed her so much, and I still regret not been there for her in the end. Too busy with work schedules and life, thinking I’d get round to it on the weekend or the following week, and having her leave so suddenly without me even saying goodbye was a blow too hard for a young me to bear.

I seem to recall having a dream much like this once, after her demise. Me and her talking, much as we did when she was alive and well. Another dream. Maybe that’s how this place works after all.

After a while, it almost feels as if all the dreams I ever have had are being relived on this journey, on this train, night after night.

I must have dozed off again for my granny is gone. I start crying happy tears. I feel much lighter after talking to her. I peek outside the window and I can see more than light now. The images seem to be out of focus though, and the light around them seems to be getting brighter. I must be doing something right. There are signs out there, like station names, but the letters are too blurry yet for me to understand their meaning.

I move to the other passenger. The only one left in with me. He’s on the first row. His face is familiar to me, but not in a nice way. He makes me shudder, and recoil for a second, but I need to move on. I sit opposite to him and I start scrutinizing his face. I know this face. Even his clothes seem familiar. I notice the knife sticking out from his chest and just like that his clothes start to soak on a dark red blood that keeps getting darker and darker until his whole body turns completely black. His face is the only thing left, his complexion contorting in agony.

I remember him. Last night. A noise woke me, went downstairs and surprised him, a gun barrel, and the unmistakable sound of death. Guilt invades me. But why. He ended me. I press harder for more memories. Through the corner of my eye I see the signs outside are becoming clearer. I can see the destination starts with a P, maybe an A follows? I can definitely see a 1 at the right of it, and it passes us. 1 mile?

I go back to last night. I close my eyes and I see his hand at the end of the barrel. I hear the distinct noise again. The train seems to be slowing down. I feel myself falling, my hand touches the kitchen sink on its way down. I feel the cold blade against my fingers. Last thing I felt. Last object I touched. I can hear the train breaks announcing we’re almost there. He leaned in over me and I tightened my grip. His face of disbelief was the last thing I saw. His body hitting the floor next to mine was the last thing I heard. Guilt fades away. I’m at peace now. I feel lighter and warmer. The train is almost still. I get up.

From the window I can see we’re at the station already and we come to a full stop. This is it. As I get off I see granny is waving me in.