30 Minus 2 Days of Writing (2013)
Day 21: “Last Train”
A man sits on a bench alone on an empty underground train platform. He sits in silence with none of the customary sounds around him of footsteps, conversations, or the chatter of station announcements crackling over the public announcement speakers. Occasionally, in regular intervals of minutes, a train rushes by the boarding dock in a rush of wind, rumbling echoes, and the metallic whine of dutiful machinery gliding across the rails.
The trains aren’t stopping at this particular station, but the man seems not to notice as he sits and gazes ahead at the empty wall lining the open tracks.
He sits and waits for an undefined span of time before he is suddenly aware of a figure standing a few paces away behind his shoulder.
“Mind if I join you?”
“No, not at all. You must be the first soul I’ve seen around here for quite some time. Actually, I have reason to believe you’re the only one I’ve seen since I got here.”
“Have you been waiting long?”
“I really couldn’t say. I seem to have lost all sense of place and time. This might sound like a strange question, but do you know where we are?”
“We’re on a train platform.”
“What day is it?”
“The same day which contains the both of us here in one place — the same day which contains this chance meeting, this conversation between you and I.”
“Where was it that I was supposed to be going?”
“I think you’ll find that you’re headed to a place where time and space are far less defined than what you’ve grown accustomed to. You find yourself today at the Grand Crossroads, where all manner of existence and perceptual certitude converge.”
“So where does that place us? Cleveland?”
“No, not exactly. You are in a realm of in-between, of being and not being. Here in this indefinable moment, you will conclude your journey beyond the limits of what is known, into the unexplored reaches of the Great Unknown.”
“You’re sure this isn’t Cleveland?”
“Please understand, you have reached the culmination of your corporeal breaths. What lies before you is the realization of your full potential as an eternal living voice among the chorus of harmonious sentience.”
“Do you think there’s anybody else here I can talk to? You’re kind of losing me.”
“Simply stated, your time in the mortal coil has come to pass. What will define you henceforth will be the content of your spirit, not the trivialities of the living and the mundane. Your station will be that as nobody can buy or bind, for it is here and elsewhere beyond where the king is but as the beggar.”
“So, are we in New Jersey or something then?”
“Look, asshole. You’re dead, okay? You slipped and fell in the bathtub, and you suffered a pointless, naked death rife with indignity. I’m the Reaper, by the way. Now you’re in Limbo, and I have the misfortune of being responsible for orienting you to the afterlife.”
“Wow, I don’t know what to say. I always thought Death would speak with higher formality, and with much more gravitas.”
“Okay, buddy. You know what?” The figure snaps two fingers, and a train immediately pulls into the station and comes to a stop. All of the passenger doors shoot open with curt abruptness. “Board your train, and get the hell out of here.”
“Hell?” the man says, with sudden concern. “Is that where I’m going?”
“Maybe yes, maybe no. Who knows? Maybe you’ll end up in Cleveland.”
The man stands from his seat and dutifully boards the train. He turns around to take a final look at the station, and of the figure of Death still standing on the boarding platform. “You know what, Death?” says the man, his voice meekly quivering with fright. “Dying stinks. I don’t know how you do what you do for a living.”
The doors snap shut as quickly as they had opened, and the train races away into the darkness of the tunnel ahead, barreling into the void of the Great Unknown.
“I quit as soon as my pension reaches full benefits” Death reminds himself, and he sighs with quiet frustration as he notices another man sitting patiently on a bench just a few paces away on the opposite side of the boarding platform.
30 Minus 2 Days of Writing (2013)
A painful exercise in forced inspiration brought to you by
“We Work for Cheese“
I fully acknowledge that I ripped off a little bit of Yeats with Death’s line about the king and the beggar, and that phrase, “nobody can buy or bind”.
You should have made the guy sitting there waiting on the platform a woman with a shoe with a broken heel. Then it really would have been good. 😉
Just kidding – it was – but it would have been rather fun, too.
That actually sounds like a great premise. Sadly, I don’t think I write very well for women yet. I’ll need to flex those muscles a little more before I’ll have the confidence to try pulling off something like that.
Haha! I loved this, KZ. Wonderfully absurd and funny and yet, curiously deep.
Thanks Ziva! A pissed off, fussy Death is always deep, I say.
Hey KZ! This was, for me at least, one of the better entries today. Very creative and thoughtful. Nice job, Sir! Indigo
I appreciate that, Indigo. This competition has really encouraged me to try new things. I’m glad I was able to produce something of worth during this experimental phase.