To Become

High above the horizon I see myself floating in the sky. The setting sun’s dim golden hue illuminates the pale clouds around me. Weightless, I gaze upon the world beneath me and feel so small in its vastness. I take a deep breath and feel a calmness come over me. Thunder begins to rumble beneath me. Blinding flashes of blue lightning streak across my face. Ominous whirling grey clouds and wild winds of chaotic cyclonic proportion brewed beneath me. I look above me and see that I am suspended from my cloud by thousands of white threads, the only thing keeping me from plummeting into the tumultuous skyscrape beneath me. I feel myself jolt downward slightly as one of my threads snap. Another thread snaps. Another. I watch in horror as thread after thread frays and breaks, and with each one a sudden drop toward doom. The threads begin to snap more rapidly and and I can feel myself being held up by a mere handful of weakening fibers. The deep rumble of the stormy firmament beneath me trembled in my bones as I inched farther and farther down. Until…

My eyes opened. They squinted adjusting to the sunlight for a brief moment. Once the sting in my eyes dissipated they began to attempt to recognize anything around me. I found myself staring at an unfamiliar beige ceiling and when I sat up and observed rows of burgundy fabric seats under wide windows displaying a blur of passing landscape. The rumble that had awoken me from my terrible nightmare was no storm, but the feeling of a locomotive on tracks. I had been lying in the aisle of an empty train car. I stood up and studied the forest green walls of the car and dark mahogany paneling along the windows. I placed my fingers on my temples and tried to remember how I arrived on this train. I could not remember the last time I had even been on a train much less how I had somehow made it on to this one. Was I hallucinating? I frantically checked my pockets for any clue or assistance that could be offered to me; a phone, my medication, my wallet, a ticket. Nothing. The car was brisk yet I could feel myself sweating uncontrollably. I rose to my feet and looked around the train car further. Behind me was a timeworn black door, it’s wood aged and splintered, it’s brass handle stained with burnt orange rust.

In front of me, in place of a door was a floor length mirror. I studied my appearance for a moment. My clothing was familiar yet it showed signs of inexplicable signs of wear. The collar of my shirt hung like a noose around my neck darkened with sweat. The knees of my pants were tattered and dirtied black.

I noticed something else I found perturbing; wrinkles on face, signs of aging that seemed to have appeared during my unconscious state. As I walked toward the mirror to further examine myself, it suddenly moved forward, revealing a space beyond it.

From behind the mirror emerged a man (so much as this creature could be called one) so strangle in his appearance that I nearly fell backward in my haste to move away.

He was tall, so much so that he needed to duck his head in order to enter the train car, his limbs were long and skeletal, yet his torso was plump and bulbous. He wore a grey suit that clung to his unusually proportioned frame. His face was sunken and gaunt, an unnerving image of corpse-like grimness, yet his eyes, a striking steel blue, had a tinge of melancholic yearning. A grimy thin black mustache arched over grayish-indigo lips that wore an odd smirk. Tufts of black hair protruded from beneath his tightly affixed bowler.

Two impossibly long and bony fingers ending with immaculate ivory finger nails pinched the gold brim of his hat and tipped it gently toward me.

I attempted to regain my composure and slow my breathing in the face of this frightening individual. I was able to steady myself enough to ask the question that was most prominent in my mind; “Where is this train going?”

The tall figure looked at me quizzically for a moment before turning and gazing out the windows. The train’s speed had not lessened, in fact it appeared to have hastened its pace. He looked back at me.

“Do you not know?” He asked me.

I swallowed hard and looked out the window at the darkening mural of colors and textures beyond the glass.

“No…” I replied, though unsure of my answer, “nowhere I want to go.” I added, more confidently.

The tall figure nodded at me and reached his pale fingers into his breast pocket, removing a gold pocket watch on a long chain. As he opened and looked at it he raised one eyebrow.

He placed the watch back in his jacket.

“How can you be sure if we have not yet arrived?” He asked me, with a tone that I found both unnerving and irritating.

I opened my mouth to speak yet formed no words only a soft whimper.

The tall figure again spoke, “In any event, we will be arriving shortly to your destination.”

He turned to leave but I stopped him.

“Wait,” I said, pleading. “How do I get off of this thing?”

The tall figure nodded at the mirror entryway from where he had appeared.

“This, I’m afraid is the only direction for exit.”

The figure disappeared once more through the mirrored door leaving me once again in an empty car.

I checked my pocket again for something to help me, anything. They remained empty. I walked to the back of the car and attempted to open the tattered black door. Locked. My frustration and panic rose as I stared back at myself in the mirror-door. I noticed that the tall figure had left it slightly ajar, an apparent invitation for entry. I was terrified of what lay beyond that door, and it was difficult to explain to myself why. The horrors I could imagine in my mind made that path a non option. I stood on one of the worn red fabric seats beside a window and began to kick the glass, with the hope of breaking it as a means of escape. However the glass was thick and impenetrable and I made no discernible impact.

I sat down in my seat. Emotion and confusion washed over me and I began to weep. For what seemed like hours I remained in this state of hysteria as a myriad of colors and shapes passed me outside. Finally I stood and looked at the mirror-door at the end of the car. I cautiously approached it, locking eyes with my reflection. I gripped the reflective silver handle and opened it slightly. Still fearful, still apprehensive I shut my eyes and began to cross the threshold when I felt something inhibiting me from entering. It was a stray nail, protruding from a wood panel that has ensnared the edge of my shirt, causing a slight tear. I stared for a moment at the threads of my shirt as they hung on the nail tautly. I took a deep breath, as I exhaled I pushed myself forward, breaking them, and entering the next train car.