No Soul Stop

Stirred as the car rumbled gently, the young woman opened her eyes, blinking slowly. She was lying on the bench seat of a sleeper car. Not on the bed, the bench. Head rolling back and forth slowly as she straightened, she felt her stiff neck crack. Dull throbbing pounded behind her eyes, she rubbed her temple, taking a deep breath. Gentle rumbling continued to jostle, as a haunting question drifted into the young lady's head.

When had she gotten on a train?

Rolling the shade up, she discovered not only was she slumbering on a speeding locomotive but there was nothing to see passed the veil.

Nothing but darkness.

Confusion began to flood her mind, panic starting to root in her chest. She began to speak aloud.

"My name is Beth. I'm a freshman in college. The last thing I remember is..."

The last thing she remembered? Furrowing her brows, she thought hard, but couldn't quite recall. Fresh cut grass and sunshine?

Before the memory could take a solid shape, it was interrupted by something.

Ears perking up, Beth leaned closer to the hall door, waiting. Again, it came reverberating down the narrow walkway. A soulful, haunting voice harmonized from somewhere beyond her car. Not only echoing it's sweet serenade in the halls, but in Beth's heart as well.

Touched, she was physically moved as well, soon finding herself in the corridor. The stark white walls and florescent white lights burning her eyes, a few tears finding their way down her cheeks as she attempted to clear them.

The beautiful melody was better heard as she moved closer, peeking in to the passing compartments to find nothing but more darkness.

Where were the rest of the passengers?

Having never previously travelled by train, Beth debated the safety of each compartment connection; opening the dining room cautiously, surprised and delighted to find the source of such a beautiful melody.

* * *****************************************************************

He spoke first, a stream of curse words to make a sailor cry, anger brimming on the very edge as a suitcase landed on his foot, only partly protected by steel toes.

More like carbon fiber, he reminded himself as he stood, wobbling a little on his left bum knee. Anger gave way to bewilderment as realization kicked in, finding himself standing in the middle of mounds of luggage.

How could this possibly be real, he wondered. One way to find out, he thought, would be to request a stop. Feeling around a bit, he made his way to one of the walls, feeling for the alarm. Discovering only his hands and the wall itself, he gave up, heading instead towards the door. Sliding it open, he carefully made his way to the next compartment. Sleeping cars, seemed like. The color and lighting reminding him of a hospital.

His stomach turned. What had he been doing before he woke up?

He closed his eyes, steadying himself on the corridor wall. Through the haze, all he could smell was smoke, diesel, sweat. A hand went to his heart, starting to feel an ache. A burn. Had he been...?

Warm whispers wafted into the hall, interrupting his thoughts, throwing off the tutored tempo of the train track. Unlike anything he'd ever heard, he allowed the sweet notes to beckon him forward.

Shaking his head, he tried again to clear his head.

"Stop it! Focus Chuck!"

The corner of his eye caught a glimpse of the window, curiosity pushing back the shade. Incredulity closed it, but the need for confirmation moved it again. Once he had attained that his eyes had not cheated him, the gentleman sank to the ground. Like the very fact that he'd seen...nothing, sank into his mind.

Where was he?

The haunting voice once again captured his attention, forcing a soft sigh from him. If there was anything he'd ever learned, it was that sitting accomplished nothing. Wobbling to his feet once more, his curiosity pushed him closer to the melodic siren, eyes continuing to drift into each sleeping car. With each new car, he discovered that the emergency alarm, which should be in each, was in fact, in none.

Something fluttered in his chest as he took a step closer to the voice, and at the same time was met with a powerful key change, the vibrato of which echoed down the hall and through his spine. What talent, he thought. Throwing the door open, he was surprised to see what he found.

**********************************************************************

Singing.

The first thing the teen heard, was singing.

Finding himself face down in a plate, he sat up quickly, grappling for a napkin. Once purged of food products, he set about straightening his tie, correcting his hair. How embarrassing, he thought. He must've fallen asleep.

Turning in his seat, however, he noticed something odd. He was sitting in his high school cafeteria.

Not even close.

Pushing his bangs from his eyes, he felt his jaw drop as they absorbed the reality in front of them. A dining car. No. In fact, this couldn't really be classified as just a dining car. There was a bar situated against one wall, and at the front, an entire stage setup.

As his eyes slowly adjusted, they took in the polished ebony hardwood floor, the almost iridescent ivory wallpaper stretching to all corners. Dark shades from the floor reached into the paper in elegant vines, pops of red blooms on the peak of some, curling leaves of obsidian on the tops of others. Threads of silver seeped from the walls to the marble tabletop, cutlery and place settings shining in white gold and champagne.

Taking a slow breath, he remembered. There had been singing. Attention drawn back to the stage, he was further surprised to see a silver haired, cougar-looking lady standing with her arms crossed. Accusatory eyes glared at him, foot tapping impatiently, the glitter on her shoes drawing his gaze to her feet.

Blood red.

The pop of color stretched across her feet in what looked like custom Christian Louboutin's. Shimmers rippled up the long skirt of her glittering ruby gown, crossed arms draped in long, white silk gloves. Given her age, the plunging neckline may have been slightly inappropriate, he thought.

"I'm sorry." He said feebly. "I didn't mean to interrupt your beautiful performance."

The woman's face shifted from annoyance to adoration at the adulation. Touching both cheeks shyly with her gloved hands, as if blushing, coy smile making her eyes sparkle. Quite the vivacious veteran.

"Why thank you." Her voice dripping like syrup, a sweetness that stayed on the ears.

"Would you like another?" she asked, taking the mic in one hand, jewels hanging heavily on her wrists, the bling blinding him for a moment.

Nodding urgently, he answered. "Please, if it's not too much trouble."

Giggling, she shuffled herself closer to the center of the stage which, incidentally, also looked like hand carved marble. Too marvelous for words, he thought.

Another thing, he thought.

How had he come to be on this train?

Perplexed, he looked down at the place setting. peering at the food he'd previously used as a pillow. Lasagna, his favorite. Extravagance didn't seep from it, as it did from every inch of the car, but it gave off a warmth. Almost a homey feel. But, had he been in the cafeteria?

Florescent lights, echoed laughter, bleach.

There was something familiar...

She spoke again. "Tell me your name, young man."

Blushing a little as he was suddenly jarred from his thoughts, he tried not to stammer as he answered. "My name is Viktor."

Shifting so her torso faced him, she smiled warmly. "I'll dedicate this to you then, Viktor."

His name carried by her voice sounded so elegant, so opulent. Despite his best efforts, his smile won, stretching across his face in triumph.

"Thank you very much!"

Nodding slowly, the soft light of the crystal chandelier caught the natural sparkle forming in each thread of hair, creating almost a halo light that surrounded her face. As the woman's mouth opened, the siren song began once more. Now that his full attention was on her, he felt every note in his chest, her vibrato sending shivers to his feet, curling his toes.

Watching her as she sang, she closed her eyes, swaying slowly, her body changing direction with each note, as if setting herself upon the very music sheet.

Soon, he found his own body doing the same, moving methodically with the melancholy melody. Feeling not only his spirits, but his hands rise as well. His bliss, however, was short lives as both doors on either end of the car were flung open simultaneously.

**********************************************************************

Something was cold, and hard. And her delicate, fragile body was lying on it. Begrudgingly, she began to move. Her arthritis screamed at her with every motion, shifting herself carefully into a sitting position. Had she fallen asleep on the bathroom floor again?

Carefully smoothing her hair back, she peered around, stunned to find she was not in her bathroom. Not at all. Instead, a gorgeous coach, one with a restaurant from the look of things. And a stage. And that, was indeed on which she was sitting. Looking down, she smiled to find herself wearing her favorite performance costume. What had she been doing before she got here?

Standing carefully, she tapped her heels a little, smiling as she watched the familiar shimmer, grimacing a bit as she felt the familiar pinch.

Had she been kidnapped? Surely not. She wasn't even tied up, and besides, no one had sought after her for quite some time.

The mic taunted her where it stood, center stage, soft spotlight, instruments staged exactly to her specifications, Taking a cautious step forward, she was immediately hypnotized by the dancing glitz, each gem, crystal, sequin, and sparkle rising up to claim their own glory in the light. And she stepped again. And again.

She saw herself take the mic with her gloved hand, white silk reflecting the glisten of her last birthday gift. That she'd given to herself. But the flash reminded her...what had she been doing before getting on the train?

Turning her wrist over again, her gaze was brought back to the mic. They'd let her know eventually, she was sure. In the meantime, there would be enough room on the itinerary for one song, right?

Gaze drifting through the carriage, she noticed the vacancy of patrons. None were there to greet her. Suddenly, her eyes fell onto a young boy, head down on his plate. He looked tired. He must've been so, so tired. She felt a soft smile on her face, sure she could sing for this boy. Perhaps a lullaby?

Watching, she noticed he already seemed asleep, but his brows were furrowed, troubled. Maybe just a tune to titillate his tumultuous thoughts, a bitty ditty to dazzle his devilishly delusional dreams. oh, stop procrastinating, she thought to herself. Taking a deep breath, she held the mic firm, and began to sing.

Acoustically, the carriage was brilliant, sound carried so evenly throughout that the echo felt all the more powerful. She decided to vocalize softly to start, watching his face, hoping to find the semblance of relaxation in his brows. No luck.

Continuing to vocalize, she turned up the volume. As she endured, she felt her heart lighten. If she hadn't been physically singing, she would have argued that the voice was not her own. Uplifted, she felt her eyes close as she let the music take her on a journey, one that could've lasted forever.

Finishing her first set of warm ups, she opened her eyes. The boy was awake!

She felt her heart both lift and simultaneously drop as she noticed his eyes were not on her. Not at all. In fact, he was preoccupied with ogling all the shiny things around him.

Replacing the mic, she crossed her arms, sighing softly. Such as a child, to appreciate the shiny baubles and sparkles before they could appreciate true, fine art. Quite taken by the décor, he was oblivious to her stare. Long bangs covered most of his forehead, his tall, slender frame wrapped in what looked like a school uniform. Finally, he met her gaze, then looked a tad sheepish. He turned out to be quite the fine lad, however. Of much more discerning taste then she would have thought.

The next interruption was far less polite.

Both doors of the coach burst open at one time, a young woman and an older gentleman, both looked as if they were searching for something. Halting her notes once more, she took a turn glaring at each of them. Limping, the man grabbed the nearest chair to the door and plopped down. The young lady took the hint as well, but opted instead to sit in the best seat, front row. Quizzically, the lady looked between them. Who were they? Why were they here?

"Please." The young lady said, hazel eyes dancing, clearly she was less entranced by the baubles, "Continue."

Sighing softly, the diva shifted the mic to her other hand. Eyes widening, the three of them exchanged quick glances before returning their attention to her. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath and looked back out at her audience. Her well rehearsed performance face slide into place, bringing the mic to her lips.

"Alright. I had started singing for Viktor. Now, our new guests, what are your names?"

The young lady raised her hand politely.

Answering immediately, the gentleman said gruffly. "Chuck."

Slowly lowering her hand, the lady spoke next. "Beth."

"I'll dedicate this to you then, Viktor, Chuck and Beth."

She saw the man raise his hand to hide a smile, the girl didn't bother to guilt fully hide her glee, she wore it as a badge of honor. As a way of life.

No rehearsal was needed for her next smile as she began to sing once more. Now, with a proper, conscious crowd, she thought lyrics would be suitable.

"Traveler oh Traveler, come away with me, we have come so far, to return to the sea, Traveler or Traveler, please take your seat, in the spot you chose, for no end we'll meet, Traveler oh Traveler, a rest please take, we will take your soul, until you are awake."

The song rang out in the carriage, each haunting word settling in the soul of each passenger, every gaze glued to the songstress, every heart heavy at the words. Song completed, a single tear slipped from her eyes, the mic starting to shake lightly in her hands. She hadn't sung those words before. She wondered where they'd come from.

Beth's face began to fall as she watched the silver vixen shed another tear. And another. Standing slowly, she offered a small round of applause, but the claps echoed back and reverberated into uncomfortable silence.

The lady in red looked back out at her public, and the thought popped in again.

What was she doing on this train?

Viktor stood next, his voice as meek as before.

"Do you have a name?"

Even the tears on her face seemed to glitter, sliding down like sweet honey on her botoxed cheeks.

"I can't seem to remember."

Viktor's face fell then, eyes softening. Chuck stood, slowly making his was towards the stage, hands sliding in his torn jeans pockets, his chest covered with a reflective safety vest. A man who stood against the décor, a bit out of place. Mud covered boots thumped against the floor as he approached her, stopping a few feet from her dazzling presence. He kept his gaze locked on the last enchanting tear, speaking softly, almost timidly.

"My name is Chuck. I work in construction. I know I've worked hard, because I can feel it. In my knee when I step, every joint when I move. Even right into my bones..." his voice started to break and he quickly cleared his throat, sighing softly. He continued somberly.

"Diesel, smoke. That's what I smell. I know my name, my body's condition but..." eyes meet with that of the silver vixen, she smelled alcohol on his breath as he whispered huskily "...for the life of me, I can't remember what I was working so hard for."

The next tear she shed was for Chuck. It slipped from her eye as she studied Chuck's face, imagining the emptiness in his heart. The loneliness in his chest. In his chest.

Viktor spoke louder now, hand clutching his shirt lightly.

"My name is Viktor. I'm in high school. I can likely tell you the make and model of this train, based on observation..." face stayed stoic, his eyes slowly growing dim

"...I can tell you the type of wood the floor is, the style of the décor. Even the year every instrument on that stage was invented, as well as the brand names and business origins of each."

A tired, almost sinister chuckle escaped his throat then, his shaded eyes shifting to the sparkling stage, abandoning eye contact with anyone, a small shroud of shame covering him.

"But I'm sad to say, when I close my eyes, I can't picture my parents faces...or my younger sisters'." Resting his forehead on one palm angrily. "I can't remember their voices! Their birthdays! I can't remember their favorite food!"

Sinking slowly to the floor, Viktor covered his face with his hands, soft sobs wracking him.

Beth watched him for a moment, then cautiously approached and enveloped the hysterical teen in a warm embrace.

"I'm not sure why you're all so sad."

The woman watched Beth's face, curious at her sociopathic composure. Chuck too, seemed puzzled at her declaration. Gently releasing Viktor, she discreetly offered him a handkerchief as she explained.

"My name is Beth. I'm a freshman in college. I don't have a family, but I had some friends I'm sure. All I remember is grass and sunshine, really."

Standing, she turned her attention to Chuck and the Lady in red.

"I remember your voice most of all, ma'am. I don't know why I'm on this train." She shrugged a little, a small laugh slipping out. "But hey, wherever this is, you're making it better. So...if you wouldn't mind." she turned back and brought Viktor back to his feet.

Escorting him gently, she set him down closer to the stage for a better view.

Chuck turned, offering the lovely starlet his stained, calloused hand, and she gladly clasped it in her white glove. Holding it up to his lips, he kissed the fabric gently, the coarse hair of his time bleached beard brushing against the snow white silk, his eyes never leaving her face. Almost instinctively, her other hand came up to hide her coy smile, disguise her surprised blush. Chuck felt his face smile, but this time he didn't bother to hide it. A few missing teeth, but charming nonetheless.

Wiping her crystalized tears, the diva chuckled at Chuck, checking him out with no discretion.

"Oh stop, you." She giggled. "You're making me blush."

Chuck, satisfied that he'd achieved his goal, released her gloved hand and took a seat next to Viktor, eyes still watching.

Shaking her wrists gently, she took in a deep breath and brought the mic to her lips once more.

"My name...I...I don't know but, I remember spotlight. Warmth like no other. Roars echoed in stadiums. Absolute elation at the sight of a stage. Any stage."

As she spoke, her honeyed vocal chords started to grind against themselves, transforming into a voice that better belonged to a veteran smoker.

"But you see, they don't tell you what happens when that light turns off. When they stop calling your name. When they stop remembering..." she paused, coughing hard, arms wrapping around her abdomen for support.

"You don't have to perform."

Shaking her head, she straightened her spine. Beth watched with admiration, feeling every ounce of strength slowly start to seep from her body. Relaxing against her chair, she smiles softly.

"Really, only if you want to."

Another kind smile, an understanding comrade in arms. She was not alone. Again to the mic.

"They forgot, you see. Me. I suppose it was only logical that I soon did as well. All I had were...fans."

Crimson ribbons began to dye the white silk of her gloves, rooting from her wrists, decorating them with a pure red that blended them in perfectly with her dress, the fabric gradually saturating.

"One more song." Honey-nectared notes again, no sign of the early black lung.

Positioning herself once again on center stage, the spotlight caught her glittering air, her aura, even. And it was warm. Like the afternoon sunshine in the middle of the summer, right before the worst storm of the century. Once more. Panic and uncertainty starting to float away as words poured from her.

"There are no stops, There are no graves."

She stopped, eyes widening slowly as she began to feel more than warmth. It was burning. Gripping the mic harder, she hesitated a moment before resuming.

"There are no hopes, There are no saves."

Chuck watched as she clutched her chest, then felt his hand move to his own, coming back with wet, crimson fingers. Wiggling them slowly, he felt the memory come back with each resonating rhythm. Hard hat on, thermos in one hand, clipboard in the other. He'd gotten to the construction site early to find that his partner had beat him to it.

Gotten to the site. Turned on the crane. Hung the rope. Walked up the scaffolding. Put on his new fiber ascot. And jumped. Raw, ripping recollection springing to his eyes, flooding his cheeks with tears.

"Hold on for the ride dear, It's perfectly fine here."

Beth's gaze travelled from the starlet's glittering hair to her lips, watching as they formed each word. Absolutely magnificent. She noticed the slow ombre of crimson slide further and further down her arms, until every ounce of flawless silk was soaked in scarlet, a shining drop daring to fall as the excess started to collect at her elbow. Blood. That was blood right? Beth's hands began to shake.

Grass and sunshine.

Beth had always been carefree. In the foster system for years. Always returned despite good behavior. Determined, she'd found a way to make it to college. She'd been doing well too. Studying hard, enjoying life. Enjoying life. Beth felt her chest grow cold, her smile falling from her face.

"Nothing here is misaligned, but you are bow inclined."

Viktor's brows furrowed lightly as he listened to each lyric, now looking for clues. Though lacking in the socialism aspect, he was exceeding expectations academically. He was. But with each analytical, logical theory, Viktor felt his chest grow heavier. Heavier.

With each random fact he recalled, he recalled the echoed laughter in the hall, the locker room, the bathrooms. Each lyric began to send shivers down his spine, plunging him into an icy memory of burning pains in his chest, lack of oxygen. Gently resting his head in his hands, the slots in his memories began to give way to occupancy. They always laughed when he coughed. He wondered what they'd done after he'd failed to do so the last time.

"You'll love it in the after."

Raising her voice by an octave, she stepped forward and surged every ounce of emotion she could into each beat of the song, fire in her lungs. Diagnosis, doctors, drugs, depression. Side effects including memory loss. No family or friends, just a flailing fame that failed to pay the fountains of medical bills. Finding herself alone in the rose garden one day, she'd had a thought. The first clear thought she'd had in a while. Pruning sheers would help, but it was ultimately she, who'd done it. The very first morning she'd forgotten her name.

"There's nothing here but laughter."

Chuck slid from his chair to the immaculate floor, grief spilling onto the polished perfection. He'd chosen something he'd deemed poetic. Grief wasn't it. Devastation wasn't close. But something drove him up each step of that same scaffolding, vision blurry, every cell in his body screaming. Higher, he thought. Or it wouldn't do it.

Dropping his clipboard first, he reached the third floor. His thermos, was on the ninth. Twelfth floor was his hard hat. Only himself left when he'd reached the roof.

"We've opened for the season."

Slipping to the floor in a puddle, Beth allowed the memories to wash over her like a tumultuous wave. A party. She'd been invited to a sorority party. Dancing, games. Drinking.

Greek alley had opened it's doors, members, items and substances flowing freely. It was the bash held at the end of the semester, and it was her first. Friendly faces welcomed her, trays of liquids pushed towards her. Beth loved to experience new things. Enjoying each wonder with wide eyes, absorbing each action with fascination. Each new sound, smell, touch, taste.

Rum, Tequila.

She'd laughed, and danced, made so many new friends. As the sun began to fall, the extra-fun party was moved outside with it's extra-fun elixir.

Vodka, Gin.

Music and lights, neon glow sticks finding themselves in peoples hands, around their necks.

Whiskey, Wine.

Draining every drop, she lapped up the liquid, lightening liquor. Swallowing a storm of swill, she soon saw spots swirling in front of her eyes. Something new again. She giggled, she drank. She drowned.

"So thanks for the convenience."

Clackety-clack, clackety-clack, The train is on no track, it swallows you up, when you are stuck, it will not let you drown

Clackety-clack, clackety-clack, There is no going back, now you are here, you're bleeding dear, come listen to this sound

Clackety-clack, clackety-clack, We come now to attack, your bill is in, let us begin, your soul to us is bound