this long. Or this
cold; the train was freezing. Perhaps this was a detour because of engineering
works.
But then he
remembered it was a single-line track. And there were no tunnels on this
stretch of line anyway.
Pressing his
nose to the cold window, he could see a blob of light was getting closer. He
caught a glimpse of a sign with a bright, flickering light above it; below that
was a tiny platform big enough only for one or two people to stand on. The sign
had said ‘Abercynon West’. And hadn’t there been a figure standing in the
darkness? With something … no! That must have been a trick of the light.
And, despite
the announcement, the train hadn’t stopped at that station.
There was a
sick feeling in the pit of his stomach as the train plunged deeper into the
surrounding darkness. Part of him desperately tried to rationalise the
situation. He told himself that the tiny station was simply intended for
maintenance crews and not passengers, hence its small size. That must be it,
mustn’t it? And he must have just misheard the final destination …
He stared
into the cold darkness beyond the window, feeling like a child desperately
clinging to a belief in impossible things – fairies, Santa Claus, happy endings
– then, to his horror, finding that impossible things really did exist;
other things, less kind.
Suddenly the
carriage was out of the darkness and the brakes began to screech as the train
pulled to a halt, jerking Nick forward in his seat.
A pale blue
light flooded through the windows, showing up every grimy seat cover and dirty
scuff mark on the floor. Nick looked out at a clean, wide station platform with
not a soul on it. Carved into the shining blue stone at the back of the
platform were the words ‘Atlantis Central’.
Then came the
announcement. “Atlantis Central. Last stop. Change here for services to
Hy-Brasil, Cockaigne, Erewhon and Elysium.” Nick stared up at the ceiling
speaker in disbelief.
He got to his
feet, wondering if this was some sort of marketing gimmick. It looked like a
bloody expensive one if it was. He pressed the button and the doors hissed
open, letting in a blast of cool, fresh-tasting air.
Stepping out
onto the spotless platform, he looked around, then followed the sign saying ‘out’.
Through a window high up he could just see the top of an ornately-carved bell
tower beneath a clear sky. From somewhere the sound of huge waves crashing
against a sturdy sea wall reached him. He knew the route the train usually took
was at least 20 miles from the sea.
But even his
tired mind was beginning to realise that nothing here was usual. Suddenly
feeling self-conscious he checked to see that he wasn’t leaving dirty
footprints on the pristine floor.
At the
platform end, the horse-headed guard with the golden horn sprouting from his
forehead smiled at him as if to say ‘Good to be home, isn’t it?’
Nick glanced
back at the dirty, ugly machine sitting at the platform and knew he’d taken his
last train ride.
MUSE
Toshio slides the door quietly to one side and peers into the hollow
darkness. It drinks his gaze, giving him nothing in return, the silky blackness
reminding him of the faded old kimono his mother wore towards the end of her
life, despite his daily pleading.
He knows the
room is not empty. Treading carefully, not wanting to disturb her yet, he edges
forward towards the futon. He always feels excited at being there while she is
asleep, before the day’s work must begin. But today the muffled whimpers and
rustling from beneath the sheets tell him she is already awake, aware of him.
The dizziness
comes out of the dark to grip him and he falls to his knees, reaching to switch
on the bedside lamp. Toshio is startled that the girl is staring directly at
him. Her tears stick her short hair to her face and the pillow is damp beneath
her head.
She moans
incoherently through her cloth gag. She gives a gasp of relief when he reaches
over and loosens it,
cold; the train was freezing. Perhaps this was a detour because of engineering
works.
But then he
remembered it was a single-line track. And there were no tunnels on this
stretch of line anyway.
Pressing his
nose to the cold window, he could see a blob of light was getting closer. He
caught a glimpse of a sign with a bright, flickering light above it; below that
was a tiny platform big enough only for one or two people to stand on. The sign
had said ‘Abercynon West’. And hadn’t there been a figure standing in the
darkness? With something … no! That must have been a trick of the light.
And, despite
the announcement, the train hadn’t stopped at that station.
There was a
sick feeling in the pit of his stomach as the train plunged deeper into the
surrounding darkness. Part of him desperately tried to rationalise the
situation. He told himself that the tiny station was simply intended for
maintenance crews and not passengers, hence its small size. That must be it,
mustn’t it? And he must have just misheard the final destination …
He stared
into the cold darkness beyond the window, feeling like a child desperately
clinging to a belief in impossible things – fairies, Santa Claus, happy endings
– then, to his horror, finding that impossible things really did exist;
other things, less kind.
Suddenly the
carriage was out of the darkness and the brakes began to screech as the train
pulled to a halt, jerking Nick forward in his seat.
A pale blue
light flooded through the windows, showing up every grimy seat cover and dirty
scuff mark on the floor. Nick looked out at a clean, wide station platform with
not a soul on it. Carved into the shining blue stone at the back of the
platform were the words ‘Atlantis Central’.
Then came the
announcement. “Atlantis Central. Last stop. Change here for services to
Hy-Brasil, Cockaigne, Erewhon and Elysium.” Nick stared up at the ceiling
speaker in disbelief.
He got to his
feet, wondering if this was some sort of marketing gimmick. It looked like a
bloody expensive one if it was. He pressed the button and the doors hissed
open, letting in a blast of cool, fresh-tasting air.
Stepping out
onto the spotless platform, he looked around, then followed the sign saying ‘out’.
Through a window high up he could just see the top of an ornately-carved bell
tower beneath a clear sky. From somewhere the sound of huge waves crashing
against a sturdy sea wall reached him. He knew the route the train usually took
was at least 20 miles from the sea.
But even his
tired mind was beginning to realise that nothing here was usual. Suddenly
feeling self-conscious he checked to see that he wasn’t leaving dirty
footprints on the pristine floor.
At the
platform end, the horse-headed guard with the golden horn sprouting from his
forehead smiled at him as if to say ‘Good to be home, isn’t it?’
Nick glanced
back at the dirty, ugly machine sitting at the platform and knew he’d taken his
last train ride.
MUSE
Toshio slides the door quietly to one side and peers into the hollow
darkness. It drinks his gaze, giving him nothing in return, the silky blackness
reminding him of the faded old kimono his mother wore towards the end of her
life, despite his daily pleading.
He knows the
room is not empty. Treading carefully, not wanting to disturb her yet, he edges
forward towards the futon. He always feels excited at being there while she is
asleep, before the day’s work must begin. But today the muffled whimpers and
rustling from beneath the sheets tell him she is already awake, aware of him.
The dizziness
comes out of the dark to grip him and he falls to his knees, reaching to switch
on the bedside lamp. Toshio is startled that the girl is staring directly at
him. Her tears stick her short hair to her face and the pillow is damp beneath
her head.
She moans
incoherently through her cloth gag. She gives a gasp of relief when he reaches
over and loosens it,
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