Chasing a Ball Ride

I'm coming back from work on a Friday evening. It's raining, and I go slow. It's cold, and it's about to turn to sleet. On a back road, taking so much longer. Safer, my wife would say. And alive. And she'd be right.

So, I go under the speed limit, making a note of what happened today. That new manuscript will get published once the author agrees on the title change for the second chapter. The poem is not yet up to par. No reply on that invoice, and the internet needs paying Monday. The style guide has to... wait, what's moving on the road?

A puppy walks slowly toward the middle of the road. Lucky my car is the only one around here. He sits down on the wet road. I pull the breaks and slow down. As I get out, I hear his paws. Curious, he came close to see who's around.

I still have some crackers left and a bit of bread from my afternoon snack. I reach to the backseat and get ready to unwrap them. The puppy stands on hind paws now, too excited to pretend he's not hungry.

Meal done, he looks at me again.

"Sorry, there's nothing else. I'm sure there's more at your house," I tell him.

He looks sad. I get the feeling he might cry if he was a person.

"He sits close to me, and I scratch his chin.

"It's just the rain, don't let it get to you. Plenty of time for you to play and have fun tomorrow," I cheer him up.

How can I make sure he won't stay here on the road? I can't leave him to be hit by the next driver.

"Let's have a little walk—you and me. I have a ball too," I suddenly remember. That green tennis ball I always forget when I get home.

I get up, and he whimpers slightly.

"What's wrong? I'm not leaving yet."

I lean down, and he comes for a hug. Suddenly, it feels like someone is hugging me tightly. So tight, it's hard to breathe. Arms around me, holding me, moving me, crushing. I want to pull back. I can't move. I'm so small. My head hurts.

* * *

Lurch, right, left, speeding. Where am I? Everything's moving around me! Did someone take me for a ride home? No, wait. I don't do hitchhiking!

What's going on?

Lights in a train carriage greet me as I open my eyes. The scenery is moving at lightning speed in the windows. How can a train go so fast? Now I get what the lurching is all about.

I look around for a ticket. On the seat, under it, on the window sill, on the floor. There's nothing. How can I find out where I'm going?

No other passengers are around, and it's quiet except for the train wheels. I reach a hand up to the baggage compartment, and I scream! That's a paw, not my hand! I try again with the other hand. Paw, again!

I need a mirror. Now! I suddenly realize I'm not as tall as I remember. Surely the seat's arms were higher than my eyes before? Am I becoming a dwarf? Have I grown old in just one day?

The other seats have no mirrors. I need the restroom. There's got to be a mirror in there. I pause for a second. Do I want to see what I look like now?

I hear a siren far away, up a hill. At least I'm not taking a ride in the desert.

I start to walk slowly, keeping my balance as the train twists and turns at an ungodly speed. And I stumble. Something pulls me back. I'm tied up with a rope of some sort. It's strong. I can't break it. And it doesn't come loose pulling.

I touch my neck. Sure enough, the rope is there. I feel a loose point and grab that. But it's difficult. I can't maneuver like I still had five fingers.

My hands are all muffled. And hairy. So much fuzzier than the worse unshaved day. What's going on with my fingers?

I keep pulling for a few minutes. I finally manage to get myself free. I'm sweaty, worried, and angry. Who brought me here? I want some explanation for this crazy place.

I reach the door to the restroom and push against it—no use regretting the use of my fingers. I'll use what I got, even if they're more like paws.

Yes, I made it. There is a mirror in here! But it's so high. I can't reach it!

I jump and still can't see much. A bit of fluff, and that's it. I jump again, higher this time. The train suddenly speeds even more, and I hit the mirror. It breaks, and the pieces lie on the floor.

Well, good. Maybe now I can finally see myself. Dwarf or whatever I've become.

I look down into one of the pieces... there's the puppy I met on the road. But where am I? I move a hand... the puppy moves a paw in the piece of glass. I turn my head to the right; the puppy turns in the mirror.

I try to shout, and a bark comes out!

What have I done? What was that hug? I can't be a puppy. I'm a man. I'm married. I have three daughters. I play fetch with my dog every Sunday!

What is this place?

I head back for the carriage, trying not to scream. More barking will just make things worse.

And then, I see a face. A real person, not imagined. She's walking through the door connecting to another carriage. A woman dressed in green, a silk shawl draped on her shoulders, holding a fan. She's thinking of something else. She hasn't even seen me.

I go forward. I need help; I can't let this chance pass me by! I shout at her, bark... anything to get her to stop and give me a hand. Not a paw!

She notices and comes closer.

"What's wrong little one? Did your mommy leave you alone for too long?"

She pats my head, and I feel strangely comforted. No, snap out of it. I'm not a puppy! I want to go back home.

"I was a man last night. I stopped on the road to help this puppy and gave him a snack..."

She looks at me but doesn't understand my words. Puppy whimpers come out. Now I do feel like crying.

"This is the pets' carriage. Don't be scared; it's ok. I'm sure you'll make friends on this ride," she adds and smiles.

I'm not soothed. And I remember the puppy last night, how I felt he was about to cry.

Have we changed places? Did he get his life back while I'm on this train? How do I get away?

© 2022 Amy Christie