Ticket Please

A clanking noise stirred the man from his thoughts. There was a low ringing in the back of his head, and he noticed his hands were shaking. He felt fine though; he wasn’t sure why they were shaking. His hands were calloused and spotted; various scars etched into his skin. He had been staring at his hands a rather long time before realizing that someone stood beside him.

“Ticket please.” A stern voice said.

It took him yet another moment to realize he was in a train cart. There was a low rumble from below him that made his shoelaces quiver; and to his right the world zipped on by. A blur of bright colors, illuminated by midday.

He looked back at the looming presence that stood in the doorway to his space. This man was not particularly interesting looking, though an odd familiarity hung on his high cheekbones. He wore a white suit, but it hung loosely on his thin figure. His hair was slicked back, black and shiny from too much grease. He held a puncher in one hand, his other outstretched.

“I… I don’t…” The man fumbled, reaching into his coat pockets, but they produced no ticket. “Sir, I’m not sure where I am.”

“On the train.”

“Well, yes, I can see that. Where is it going?”

“North.” His tone was curt, and this began to bother the man sitting in the cart.

“Sir, I don’t know why I’m here or where we’re going. I don’t even know my own name!” The realization hit him. He didn’t remember anything. He couldn’t recall what happened earlier that day, nor the one prior. He understood existence and functionality; but his reason, his purpose was blank. “Who am I?”

The tall ticket man looked at him with cold eyes. His expression was hard and unwelcoming. “Looks like you’ll have to find out.” He retracted his hand, backed up, and disappeared down the corridor to the right, vanishing into the cart beyond.

The man looked back out the window, the same blur passing by much faster than he thought it should be. Though the train felt normal, consistent; not like they were traveling at break-neck speed. Without another option, besides sitting there for an indefinite amount of time, he got up and poked his head outside the cabin. A bright green carpet lead down the corridor illuminated by small lights that lined the floor of the train.

The other cabins were shut, but when he peered inside, he found them all to be empty. There was no luggage, not even in his own dwelling. They were all new and clean, as if they hadn’t even been used yet. He opened one for good measure, but this did nothing, unsurprisingly.

He walked to the back of the train, discovering that he was in the last cart. There was a window on the back of the train, but no door. He went up to the window, but a similar blurry scene passed by. He could see the metal tracks below; two streams that trailed behind them.

He turned and walked to the front of the cart. This side had a door. The small window revealed the break between carts as well as view into the next, which had the same appearance as the one he was in. He took in a breath and opened the door.

At first he thought someone was yelling, but realized it was laughter. The sun hit his eyes, causing the man to squint. The world came into view, a vibrant field of tall grass and flora stretched before him. He stood on top a hill, overlooking a small farmhouse.

“Come on, Emmer! Papa will have dinner ready soon.” A familiar voice called to him. A girl passed by his right, running down the field. He was no longer a man at all, but a young boy. His fingers youthful, his spirit playful. He chased after the girl, his sister, into the gated yard and onto the porch.

The smell of garlic roasted pork wafted from the open doors and windows. A honey glaze added sweetness to the smoke that puffed out from the stove. Their papa sang as he cooked, swinging his arms around in a dramatic fashion. Their mother set the table, pouring themselves a glass of wine and juice for the kids. She hummed along to her husband’s tunes, her cheeks rosy and soft.

The children bounded into the dining room; the kitchen opening itself wide, ready to let out its delicious treasures. Their papa set down plate after plate of smoked pork, mashed potatoes, roasted brussels and carrots, drizzled with glazes and vinaigrettes. Each color was bright, every bite better than the prior. Their papa took pride in his food, making sure his family always ate well and flavorfully.

After dinner the children helped clean up and they all settled down for a movie. Emmer sat next to his sister on the beanbag that was situated next to the fireplace. Both kids held cups of hot cocoa, three marshmallows a piece. Their old brown dog lied besides them, belly towards the warmth of the fire. Their parents snuggled on the couch, popcorn between them.

The air was sweet, filled with the smell of baking bread. A darkness settled over the room, the movie blurring into a fuzzy static, its glow diminishing.

Emmer stared down at his drink, noticing his hands were shaking. They were wrinkled and worn with age. He had bitten his nails to the nubs.

“Ticket, please.”

The man with pulled skin and a white suit, stared at him, hand outstretched.

The floorboards rumbled beneath his feet, a blurred background passing them by.

“I… I’m not… Where am I?” Emmer asked.

“On the train.”

“Where are we going?”

“South.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Looks like you have to figure it out.” The man stepped back out and turned left, exiting through the doorway to another cart.

Everything felt so familiar, yet when Emmer attempted to grasp anything, the thought would disappear, leaving his head cloudy. He went to the back of the cart, observing black tracks that smeared behind them. The red carpet was dulled with age, but all the passenger carts were empty and clean. He approached the door to the next cart but hesitated.

His hand hovered rather longer than he felt it should, unsure why he didn’t want to advance. He opened the door.

“Good job man, we did it!”

Emmer’s vision was a blur, slowly finding focus on a young man’s face. It was his best friend, and they were cheering. They were among a crowd of kids, all dawned in black robes.

That’s right, they were graduating. They had finally made it; now they were free to explore the world. Emmer wanted to see everything. He took in a deep breath, letting out a howl as he threw up his cap.

That night, his parents took him to his favorite Italian restaurant. He would leave for Italy in only a few months, eager to study abroad. Though it involved tears and carefully placed words, Emmer convinced his parents to let him travel. He even arranged to stay with relatives for a little bit to ease his mother’s worries.

The train clacked along the tracks, but the view that passed by was easily digestible. Emmer watched the pine trees as they slowly thinned, leaving vast farmland. They passed one station, then another, and another. He kept a coat draped over his legs; his suitcase tucked beneath him. There was a sketchbook open on the foldout table, though he hadn’t touched it for at least an hour. The present sketches contained various figures, focusing on dancing poses.

The train lulled to a stop, finding yet another station. He had been staring at his hands, and then at the red carpeted floor, for a while. His eyes wondered from the rustic interior of the train to the window. Watching as the crowds shuffled to-and-fro, each with their own specific destination, unaware of anyone else’s. A fuzzy feeling was beginning to consume his thoughts.

He was pulled from the sensation by a light tapping. A young woman poked her head through the doorway.

“Do you mind if I sit in here with you?”

She was beautiful and her voice just as lovely. Her brown hair was neatly tied up, falling into curls as it came out of the scrunchy. Her skin was a chestnut color with tiny freckles that poked through on her face. When she smiled, Emmer blushed.

“Uh, yeah. Go ahead. I’m Emmer.” He stuck out his hand, suddenly feeling unsure what to do with himself.

“I’m Jannette. Where are you going, Emmer?” She sat across from him, shoving her shoulder bag into the top compartment.

“First to see my cousins in Spain, but I plan to travel all over. See as much as I can.” He wasn’t sure if he was speaking too fast or not fast enough. He swallowed, attempting to calm his nerves. He rubbed his hands together, trying to be discreet about the perspiration slowly consuming his body.

“How funny, I’m also going to Spain. My parents love there, I’m going to visit them for my vacation. Did you do these?” She made note of the sketchbook in front of them.

Emmer blushed again, reaching for the notebook. “Yeah, I mean. They’re just scribbles.”

Jannette leaned forward, her fingers lightly touching the edge of the sketchbook. “Can I see?” Her eyes were bright, welcoming him into their embrace.

“Yeah, sure.” He pushed the drawing towards her, watching as her eyes scanned the pages, a cheerful smile on her face.

“I love these. They’re really great. I’m serious.” She said, ready for him to detest.

“Ticket please.” The familiar voice abrupted to his left, tearing Emmer’s gaze away from the woman. He looked at the tall figure with confusion. It was the high cheekboned man, in a white suit.

He was expressionless, hand outstretched.

“I already…” Emmer turned back to the woman, except she was gone. The cabin interior was no longer an old wooden red, but grey walled, with blue seats. There was no table, nor any luggage.

“You have given me no ticket, sir.” The man took back his hand.

“Where are we going?” Emmer asked, attempting to look out the window. “Why is the train going so fast?”

“We are going North.” He backed out of the cabin and turned right. “And the train does not stop.”

“Wait, what?” Emmer stood up to follow the man, but he was somehow already at the train cart’s door to the next. He opened it and disappeared without glancing back.

Emmer didn’t bother to check the train, he ran along the triangular patterned carpet, throwing open the door to the next cabin.

“I don’t know. The pattern is a little… strong.” Jannette stood at Emmer’s side, holding up a yellow shirt with a triangular pattern stamped onto it.

Emmer was holding a few shirts, one draped over his shoulder as well. He shrugged. “I’m trying to make an impression.”

“Yeah, with a studio art director, not a circus.” She teased.

He dropped everything he was carrying and scooped Jannette into his arms in a swinging motion. “Exactly why I’m going with that one.”

She laughed, resting her free hand on her belly, that had recently developed a bump to it. Emmer kissed her, relishing in her soft lips. He would get lost staring into her hazel eyes; her lips became the color of cherries from kissing her so much. He couldn’t get enough of her; neither her of him.

He wore the ugly yellow shirt to his interview, which ended up being a good choice.

Emmer returned home; the house filled with the smell of a baking chocolate cake. The sweet smell wafted into the air, lightening his already pleasant mood. Jannette hummed in the kitchen, a mixing bowl in one hand. He crept up behind her, bringing her in for a soft embrace.

“How did it go?” She asked, setting the bowl down to properly swing her arms around him.

“You’re looking at the new assistant art director.”

“Oh, that’s great! I had a feeling you’d get it. I also made you’re favorite for dinner.”

“And a cake for a dessert I see.”

Emmer poured himself some coffee from the steaming pot and took a seat at the table.

“I’ve been thinking about names… What about Elizabeth, or Kristine?”

“You think it’s a girl?”

She shrugged. “Just a feeling.”

Emmer took another sip of his coffee, the soft smell of nutmeg drifted into his nose. He closed his eyes and everything felt okay. When he opened them though, he saw his hands were shaking and the floor beneath him was an ugly green fuzz.

“Ticket please.” The hand outstretched.

“Bring her back.” Tears began to fall down his face. They hit the carpet, creating darker green splotches. His hands were still stationed in front of him, raised as if he was still holding his cup of coffee.

“I can’t do that, sir.” He pulled him arm back, his boney fingers curling as he did so.

“Wait,” Emmer stopped him before he could make his turn. “I don’t have a ticket.”

The man finally gave a different expression from his stern look; though it seemed as if he was trying to smile, but his skin was pulled too tightly across his face. It looked more like a grimace, though he didn’t entirely mean it to be so.

“You will.” He said, then turned left and disappeared once more.

Emmer stared at his hands, the shaking intensifying. A white noise crept through his mind, consuming his thoughts. He stood suddenly, letting out a cry of pain, tears distorting his sight. He wanted to throw something, smash something, but the cabin was empty. Instead, he threw his fists against the fall, punching the side wall until the grey walls became spotted with red.

He fell to the floor, heaving for breath through his sobs.

His memories were still a blur, moment still lost to him. Though it took a moment to gather his composure, Emmer managed to pull himself up and make for the cabin door. He could feel something bad was coming, that his journey would be coming to an end soon.

He approached the door to the next train. It still sped by at an impossible speed, though the interior felt still. When he put his hand on the door handle, something caught his eye. The cabin he was next to contained a figure. He peered in, realizing the windows were distorted, but the figure appeared female. She sat facing forward, motionless.

Emmer pulled the door open.

He found himself standing on a green lawn, graves stretched into the distance. The day was calm. The sun beat down through the trees that shaded the outskirts of the yard and a light breeze blew through on occasion.

Emmer saw a few people shuffling about, flowers in hands, dawned in black. Then he noticed a woman with chestnut colored skin and soft brown curls. A small girl clutched her hand, the same brown curls falling down her back. He watched them cross the yard, flowers in their other hands.

Tears began to stream down Emmer’s face. He didn’t have to see the name on the headstone to know whose it belonged to. He watched them locate the grave and sit down before it. The girl placed her flowers delicately next to the bouquet her mother had brought. She spoke, but he was too far away to hear her. He did feel something though, a warmth that was almost as if someone was giving him a hug.

He squeezed his eyes shut and when he opened them again, he was in his cabin.

“I’m dead. Aren’t I?”

The white-suited man stood to his side, beyond him the train still sped by at a blurring pace.

“Do you have your ticket?”

Emmer searched his coat pockets, his pants, he even felt around if it was in some strange place, but he yielded nothing.

“Then you are not ready.” He said, turning to leave again.

“Wait. Where are we going?”

The man looked back at him, something like pity lingered on his face. “I am not going anywhere. You, on the other hand, that is for you to decide.”

Then he left.

Emmer let out a sigh. He did not know how he died; he did not want to die either. Yet here he was, on some limbo train that appeared to go back and forth until he was ready to go somewhere else.

To where? Was he going to Heaven or Hell? Did either even exist at this point?

“Hi.” A soft voice spoke from in front of him. He wiped his eyes and saw a little girl. His little girl. “It’s okay, papa.” She hopped up from her seat and sat beside him, rapping her tiny arms around his waist. The tears began to come even heavier now. She scooped the girl up and cradled her in his arms.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He said through his sobs.

She buried her face in his neck. “it’s okay, papa. You saved us.”

They sat like that for minutes, hours maybe; time was abstract here. Eventually the tears let up and he was able to compose himself.

“Don’t be afraid, papa.” The girl got down from his lap and went to the door. She held out a small hand, gesturing for him to take it. Emmer’s hand shook as his daughter led him down the hall to yet another door. He didn’t want to open it, he knew his journey would be ending soon.

“I love you so very much, my little sugar-pie. I love your mama so much too.” His hands remained at his side.

“I love you too, papa. Mama loves you too. You have to go.” Though he resisted, she pulled from his grip and when he looked next, she was gone.

Emmer opened the door, a bright light shining in his face. He heard music, a low rumble, and the air smelt of rain and damp earth. He was driving, his wife in the passenger seat, his daughter strapped in the back. They were coming home from a day at the beach, sand still lingered in between his toes.

Jannette stuck her hand out the window, catching some of the rain. Their daughter was fast asleep .

“What a lovely day.” Jannette said, closing her eyes.

“It was…” Emmer’s voice trailed off.

He remembered.

Though Emmer had been driving at a safe speed, obeying every traffic law; the on coming driver was not. He had already been drinking before getting in his vehicle, continuing to do so as he sped down the winding road. By the time the lights came into view, the other car was already too close.

Emmer slammed on the breaks, attempting to swerve to the side. The cars collided. The drunk driver smashed into the driver’s side of the vehicle. There was a loud crunch followed by screaming; the smoke from burning rubber wafted into the air.

Though the ambulance arrived only a few minutes later, it was still too late for Emmer. He had been killed upon impact, though Jannette and their child only retained minor injuries. The drunk driver had also succumbed to his injuries before arriving at the hospital.

Emmer, now standing beyond the scene, watched his wife and daughter be escorted away by an ambulance. They sobbed, but he had no more tears to give. They were okay. They had lived and they would be okay.

He shoved his hands into his pockets, his body feeling lighter. Then he felt a small piece of paper in his pocket. He pulled it out, producing a small yellow ticket, with a silver lining. He examined it, noting the numbers printed around the boarder and a train design stamped in the middle. He turned it over. His name was on the back with a range of dates. When he was born and when he died.

“Ticket, sir?”

The boney man stood to his side. Emmer was no longer on the wet streets, but back in the small train cabin, the world passing him by.

He gripped the ticket in his hands, which began to shake again. “Do you know where I’m going?”

“I do not. That is only for you to know.”

“I’m not ready.”

The man lowered his hand, but he gave a small smile this time. “Alright.” Then he turned and left. Emmer sat there, staring at the ticket in his hands, when he heard something coming from down the hall. It was Jannette’s voice, but he wasn’t sure what she was saying.

He left his cold cabin, walking down the tiled floor of the train to a white door. He opened it without hesitation, entering into a hospital. There was so much commotion as workers went about their daily routines. People came in and out, injured and healed. He entered into the familiar room, flowers and balloons lined the walls. A gentle breeze brought in the smell of roses form the open window.

His wife lied on the bed, their new born baby cradled in her arms. Their parents had visited earlier, but now only her mother remained. Emmer walked into the room, the two woman smiling at him.

“Come hold her.” Jannette said, her face worn but happy. Emmer sat besides her, gently taking their baby. He held her close, relishing in her existence. Her tiny hand gripped onto his pinky and he felt like crying again. Jannette leaned over, resting her head on his shoulder.

“I love you both and that will never change.” Emmer said, kissing Jannette’s forehead.

He handed their daughter back to her and kissed her again. Without another word, he stood up, straightened his shirt and coat, and approached the desk that was outside the patient rooms. A woman sat behind the desk, typing at the computer.

“I’m ready.” He said, producing the ticket.

When he looked back at the receptionist it was no longer the stern woman, but the boney man with a white suit. Their surroundings were different now as well. He was back in his cabin but it was no longer bare. It held trinkets and bags filled with familiar items. Memories lingered but held nothing of substance. The man took Emmer’s ticket and punched it before handing it back.

The cutout was in the shape of a heart.

This time, when he leaned out of the cabin, he stood against the wall. He held out a long arm, pointing down the hall of the train. “It is time.” He said.

Emmer wasn’t sure if he was truly ready; but he would go anyway. He would not be able to get what he lost back; only cherish what he had.

For the last time, he approached the cabin door. The world outside was a blur, but he hardly noticed. He opened the door and the last thing he saw was his wife and daughter smiling at him.