Loop

A low rumble shook me from my slumber. While rubbing the dried drool from the creases of my lips, I blinked my way back to consciousness. My arms stretched in a yawn when I was struck by the realiztion, this isn't my bed, or my home, how did I get here?

A rich, red velvet hugged the seats and climbed up three-quarters of the train car walls, while the upper wall and ceiling were adorned with golden art deco accents that spread like fingers around the windows and doors. The faint stench of whiskey filled my nostrils as I took in the rest of my surroundings.

"Why does this place seem so familiar?" I mutter to myself, voice low and hoarse like I've been yelling...or drunk.

Was I drinking last night?

"Tickets please!" A gruff voice vibrated through the train car.

"Shoot," I shoved my hands in my pockets, finding only lint and a small blue button. My eyes darted frantically around the cabin looking for something, anything that will give me some kind of bearing as to how I got here.

Upon inspection, the train was remarkably empty, not even a body to match the voice I had just heard.

Is this a dream?

I pressed my face against the cool glass of the window, hoping that the landscape would ground me and calm my nerves. Nothing. All I can see are opalescent streaks of light and shadows slithering like serpents along our path. The air was thick with fog and consumed anything that would help me prove this wasn't all just a dreamscape.

The rest of the cabin was hollow, rattling rhythmically like the shackles of a chain gang. After searching underneath the seats, I realized that I'm not the only one here. I could see a shadow in the car ahead of mine.

I ran to the door and realized I'm just running at myself in a mirror. My reflection is odd though, peering at me with ghostly white eyes and a semi-transparent silhouette. I tugged at the door handle, two, three, four pulls and it didn't move an inch. My reflection wasn't moving either.

A crooked smile crawled across my reflection's face.

"TICKETS!" The disembodied voice boomed in my eardrums.

The icy grip of fear caused me to lose my footing and I rolled to the floor. I felt the train lurch around a corner and gain violent speed. The shadows and light danced across the train's facade like it hit warp drive.

I pushed myself to my feet, still searching for the origin of the haunting voice. I found no one, but the stench of whiskey grew stronger.

I looked back and found my reflection accompanied by a smaller, opaque figure. I didn't recognize him at first, but I reached into my pocket and everything came flooding back. The button was my brother's.

"No, it can't be," the words fell from my lips.

My reflection turned to my brother and lifted him, just as I had done, as he pleaded me to do.

"I want to fly," he said to me. "Just help me to the window!"

I looked around for our parents, who were getting drinks in the next car.

"Fine Toby," I relented, "just for a second, before Mom and Dad get back,"

"Yay!" He squealed.

I used to let him ride in the basket of my bike because he liked the feeling of the wind on his face, like a puppy on a car ride.

The window of the train car only opened at the very top, so I gave him a boost to stick his head and arms out. As I lifted, the train lurched around a corner and flung the rest of his body like a ragdoll. He was flying.

My attempt to grab him was futile. I managed to hold the corner of his shirt just long enough to free a button from it's stitches, but that's all that was left. No Toby, just the button.

My parents entered the train car just as his shoes slipped out of the window frame. The first sound I remember is my father's glass of whiskey clattering on the floor, quickly followed by my mother's shriek of terror.

"Tickets please!" shouted the portley ticket collector, unaware of what just transpired. "Tickets!"

The memory, once buried by trauma and coping mechanisms, was alive again. My reflection made me watch the nightmare scene play out from the perspective of my parents. It seemed to enjoy it.

"I-I didn't mean to kill him," I said to myself aloud.

I shut my eyes, but wasn't met with darkenss. I could still see it, clear as day. Toby's arms swam through the air gracefully, then started to flail as he realized I, his foundation, was gone.

"WHY ARE YOU SHOWING ME THIS?!" I shouted to the shadow of myself.

"WHY AM I HERE?!"

No answer.

I fell into a ball on the floor, shoving my knuckles into my eyes to wipe away the tears that streamed like a monsoon.

"Wh-why...?" I sobbed as I lost the will to finish the question.

"Is this Hell?" I begged for an answer.

I watched my past self crumple into a heap with the gravity of the realization that I had just killed my brother.

After sobbing for what seemed like an eternity, I was able to force eyelids closed. Little comfort was found in the darkness, but it was better than seeing the worst mistake I have ever made.

Please let this nightmare end.

I gently rocked myself to sleep on the train floor.

A low rumble shook me from my slumber. While rubbing the dried drool from the creases of my lips, I blinked my way back to consciousness. My arms stretched in a yawn when I was struck by the realiztion, this isn't my bed, or my home, how did I get here?

...