The White Train

The White Train

I entered into the pub at dusk and took in the sights and sounds around me. The Darkest Pit was regarded as one of the best pubs in town, so it happened to attract many people. The dimly-lit bar was rich with sounds of boisterous laughter, clanging mugs, and ragtime piano music. I stood at the threshold, surveying the scene. Everyone seemed to be having fun and yet, something seemed rather off about the whole situation. The coughing of someone in the back shifted my gaze to a particular gentleman, with a black trenchcoat and a rugged beard. He wore scars on his face and a tall hat to mask them. He wasn’t laughing like the rest of them, but simply staring into his drink, seemingly oblivious to the crowd around him. The fact that this man behaved this way intrigued me, but I decided not to pry. I moved my gaze to the front of the room, where three laughing people at the bar were clashing their mugs and spilling their drinks. The bar was best lit of the small establishment, with the electric lights clearly illuminating the numerous bottles of liquor, but especially the people being tended to. Each had let out a bellowing laugh at the crack of a joke, but one man hesitated with chuckle until he noticed his company roaring in delight. He took a small sip of his drink, gazing into the cabinet of spirits, and ordered a whisky. The fact that this man seemed to be somewhere else was slightly troublesome, but who was I to judge him? Then the crescendo of the piano stole my attention, and I looked to the piano man. He was was disheveled, untidy, and dirty. His hair was matted down and greasy, his fully grown beard was filthy, covered with bits and pieces of previous meals, and his clothes were ripped in numerous places. I crossed the room in order to get a better look at him, making my way through the thick crowd. On top of his piano, was a tip jar. Usually I would not give much thought to such an ordinary item, but the fact that the man looked the way he did spoke volumes about such a common item. As I approached closer, a pungent odor assaulted my nostrils. This man clearly had not bathed for quite sometime. And while the ragtime song he played was upbeat and cheerful, his eyes had sunken deep into his skull, and he started at me with a vacant expression, as if no one occupied this husk of a man. I reached into my wallet and placed five dollars into his jar. He looked at me with the most expectant, wondrous expression, as if he was a child staring at a sizeable lollipop. I felt pity on the man, and placed ten more into his jar. At this, he started openly sobbing in front of me, all the while still playing the ragtime tune that contradicted his emotional state. I stared at him in bewilderment, feeling guilt well up in my stomach. What had happened to this man? I backed away slowly, not knowing what to do for the man. I turned and stumbled toward the door, my head spinning into a mix of sorrow, shock, and rage. How could something like this happen to someone? As I reached the door, I looked over my shoulder and surveyed the room one last time before. In my encounter with each person, I sensed something was amiss with them. My initial assessment of this place had told me that it was a place of cheer and high spirits. But as I was leaving, I knew that not one person sitting in that pub was there for the cheer and music, but rather the alcohol, as a means to cope with the pain. I threw open the door and ran out in the now-pouring rain, distraught at what I had discovered. As I darted through the empty streets, I could only think about each person, and what their story might be. I took cover at the nearest place I could find, which happened to be the train station. I stopped when the platform roof covered my head, and fell to my knees crying. My whole world had been flipped upside-down in a matter of mere minutes. I heard the sound of footsteps approach me, but wept still, broken at the sight in the pub. “Pardon me sir, but are you waiting for the train?” I looked up. Before me stood a Conductor, dressed from head-to-toe in a white tuxedo, even complete with white shoes and a white conductor's hat. “I’ve already taken care of your baggage” he said. I looked at Him, puzzled. “What do you mean?” He held out His hand, fitted with a white glove. “Come with me” He said. As I was helped to my feet, I suddenly noticed the train sitting in the station. As I looked upon this fascinating contraption, the rain tapered to a halt. The train was also white, polished, and glimmering in moonlight, as the beads of rain that clung to the machine reflected the fractals of light brightly. We came to a halt at platform 5, then the Man turned to me and pointed at compartment on the lower of the train marked with a 17. “What’s in there?” I asked. “I have already told you: I have taken your baggage.” I became even more confused now. “But I didn’t bring any baggage here. I came straight from The Darkest Pit.” He tilted his head and maintained his gaze. “Would you like to see?” He asked. Still not knowing what he meant, I took on his offer. “Yes.” He took a set of keys from his belt, and unlocked the compartment. Lined from wall-to-wall, were suitcases and bags, just as he had said. The compartment was completely filled, as each bag had been meticulously placed to maximize storage. “But which one is mine?” Again, He looked at me with the intense gaze that he always bestowed. “All of them” He said. I staggered backward, unable to believe what I was seeing. “Who else have you taken the baggage of?” I asked, stunned at this statement. “I have a compartment for anyone who chooses to ride my train.” From the inside pocket of his jacket, He pulled out a ticket and handed it to me. “Whether or not you wish to ride is up to you, but we will depart as soon as you take the seat prepared for you is taken” At this, He walked away, presumably to the operating booth. I watched Him walk away, still with a million question in my mind, then looked at the ticket in my hand. “Car 11, Row 28, Seat 30.” I looked up at the train and asked myself: was I ready to just leave everything behind and ride this train to wherever it might take me? But after the brief exchange of words with the Mysterious Man in white, how could I not? There was nothing left for me here anyways. So I boarded the train and followed the ticket to my seat. When I found my seat, it was not as I was expecting. I thought it would have been a normal train seat, but it was a plush recliner; the very best seat on the train. Amazed, I walked over to it as if in a trance, and took my seat. As I peered out the window, the landscape started to move. Where we were bound, I could not say. But somehow I knew that wherever the train went, it would take me somewhere better. Because for once in my life, Someone was guiding me there.

Originally Written 8/13/14