The station waiting room is cramped and cosy. It’s a refuge from the elements for a single female passenger. Curled up in a corner, she has been here for some time. She dozes intermittently enjoying the warmth and the comfort of the red plush bench. An open fire is labouring to sustain itself. Sporadically it springs to life with a crackle. A few sparks drift lazily up the chimney, but the glowing coke mostly whistles and sighs tenderly. Somewhere, there is the drone of distant voices, but they are not her concern. The regular tock of the station clock is the soundscape of her sanctuary. Time passes routinely and the tempo of station life ticks on.
Tring tring! Tring tring! The calm of this peaceful backwater is rudely shattered, and the traveller prepares to start her journey
In his cream and red nerve centre the signalman is on high alert. He releases the long levers and the gates swing free. All his energy is concentrated on turning the large wheel and allowing access to the station.
The distant speck progressing down the line appears to gain momentum as it gets nearer. Finally, looming large, it surges into the platform and briefly comes to rest. The train now standing in the platform could be going anywhere: that information is for some to know but others to discover. No one appears too worried.
With some apprehension the sleepy passenger gets onboard. The carriage is empty and, tucking herself into a corner, she searches for clues that this is the right train. The doors close automatically. As the station recedes all memory of the waiting room is erased. She submits to her new surroundings and a drowsy nothingness once more takes over.
But not for long! Fully awake now she feels herself tensing as the train picks up speed and heads towards a tunnel. With a whoosh she is rushed headfirst into the unknown. She starts to panic as the darkness consumes her. But, at the other end of this abyss all is peaceful again and the train continues on its way.
It can’t be happening! The tunnel is coming for her again. This time it swallows her up and she feel as if her head will burst as she is sucked into the void. Nevertheless, at the end of it she is comforted by the stillness that follows and she relaxes. However the tunnel is looming large again like a huge balloon which becomes a pulsating chasm that immediately consumes the whole of the carriage. Sweet relief! But no! Here it comes again. And again! And again! Amoeba like the balloon continually transforms into a phenomenon that is absolutely horrifying, and she is quite powerless to get away. Mouth pricking and tingling with apprehension, nerves resonating on high alert; she is drawn at speed into that stifling interior.
Just then a sudden sharp intake of breath prompts the passenger to cry out. Is it relief or panic she is feeling? Maybe it’s a tinge of excitement? Whatever! Early morning on the 24th of May 1947 sees her catapulted headfirst into the waiting world and her next big adventure is about to begin.
About the author
Pat’s creative talents mainly focus on Art. However, In common with the themes she chooses for her paintings, her adventures into Flash Fiction aim to create narratives which are abstracts of ideas that have irregular angles or perspectives.
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