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JAne Porter is on the chaos train. Travelling across the other world to the hotel of regret and broken dreams. Very proper and a reasonable person. She tries to put her best foot forward, only for it to land in a big pile of dog poo. MEtaphorically of course. View table of contents...



Submitted:Oct 9, 2008    Reads: 133    Comments: 0    Likes: 0   

The obituary read like this...
"Jane Porter, age twenty seven was taken from us in a tragic auto mobile accident.A loving daughter who allways put the needs and wants of others before her own. She will be missed."
...And that was it. Neither of Janes parents had been very poetic but this was.....well....sad. Formal, like a thank you letter for an unremarkable present to a distant and unfammiliar relative. The words were well placed, carefull even. BUt what else had she expected? Really, though parent and child, they were never really "close". The porters were often seen as power couple, so the raising of a child was all very awkward for them.She eventuallycame to an age whenshe under stood completley and hired her self a nanny. Though by then of course she was seven and all quite mature, well educated and a natural cynic. She looked at her parents as sort of nice, distant figures to be respected. Figures you usually never saw, unless of course they were on the news and then they were sofabulously distorted it was hard to tell it was them. JAne porter sigheed and let her shoulders droop a little. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the landsccape flash and change. Distracted from her self pity and misery, at least for a while. She looked out to see the technicolour tunnel change into an ocean of blue beneath a wonderfully clear sky. Spotted with the odd island. The tracks seem to run on water or beneath it or-oh this was all quite daft! I mean a train! Jane steamed to herself, or, more presicly, what was left of her self. People took about a light but JAne doubted if any one had bothered to connect the light of the after life with the head lights of a gigantic steam engine.

Jane remembered. She was sitting on the bonnet of her car. Half of which was enbedded in the front of another car. The spectre beside her, which was the other driver, also deceased. Chortled on about death dying and the after life. "But what am I going to do?" He mumbled, distraught. He was middle aged, bawlding with wide glassy specs. Jane Porter, who was a reasonable person at the very worst of times, tried hard to console the little man. "Now listen here sir." JAne said putting on her teacher-to-very-small-child voice. "Lets look at the facts shall we? Our cars have collided and our bodies are both on the ground, severly bruised, and broken. Looking at this scene we can both safely deduce we are dead. "

"Oh, um---yes. I suppose-"

"Yes. We can. Now what happens after death we could only speculate before but I believe we will both find out soon enough."

"BUt what about my children? my wife, Peggy?"

"Oh, I'm sure Peggys a responsible and dutifull woman. She'll take it with grace and know you didn't do it on purpose. You didn't do it on purpose did you?" THe man replied with a shake of his head and stared in awe of the young woman in front of him. Here they both were. Dead. And she was the one consoling him. Shouldn't it be the other way? he wondered idly, shaking his head or nodding when ever necesary. "VEry good sir. Oh, I forgot to introduce myself. How rude." She held out her hand to him and beamed a brilliant smile in his direction."Jane Porter. Pleasure to make your aquaintance, mister-uh?"

"Um-uh-GEorge. Uh, that's right. George FArrely Whipman." George said grabbing the slender hand in front of him tenativley. She shook enthusiastically and smiled. "George Whipman. A pleasure." Soon after, the train came. IT was disconcerting, looking at it. It seemed so out of place in the modern city like settting. A giant steam train, coal black and on the front were the words, "The chaos train. Bringing you to the end of your rope for the last billion or so years."

"Well, that's conveniant." JAne said more confident than she felt. An older man with an old british train trousers and hat on leant out and called, "JAne Porter! George Whipman! All aboard!" And now..........she was here. THe only one here, too. Where's GEorge? He had gotten off at the last stop but the train manager said she was heading for an all together different place. And then, the train stopped.

It was quite a large island, with a single building visible. Eight stories high and large. A pale pink orangey colour that made you slightly dizzy. ANd floating high in the sky, not attatched to the building but hovering above it, in big neon colours was a sign. "Hotel Desiderium" NOw JAnes latin was suprisingly good and she translated it to , HOtel of regrets. "Oh dear." She thought desperatley. "What could I possibly regret?" There were a few things of course. But they were hardly worth fretting over. AS she walked in she heard the swish of wind as some one stepped behind her. TUrniing she was hit by a blinding god like light. "Ah!"

"Oh. Sorry." HEr eyes cleared and a boy stood in front of her. HE was nineteen and gorgeous. WIth ashy blond hair and vibrant green eyes.HE was tone but not buff. And he was smiling for some reason. "Um.I'm dead."

"Yes. So am I."
"Oh. Well..........you seem happy."
"No one here is completley happy. This is-"

"The hotel of regrets."JAne finished automatically. She l;ooked at the strange boy in front of her. HE looked, strange for some reason. HE wore modern clothes but they looked................wrong on him, for some reason. "Oh. Um-my name's JAne. JAne POrtter." She said holding her hand out. The boy smiled, taking it gently and pressing it to his lips. "DAniel Alastaiir RAvenright. At your service miss. I'm the manager here." JAne blushed a little, her heart quickening. "Um, uh-"

"So," he said looking up at her, his eyes glowing a cat like yellow. "PLease stay a little. OKAy?"

.............................Oh Dear.


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