Nowhere

Reads: 93  | Likes: 1  | Shelves: 0  | Comments: 1

More Details
Status: Finished  |  Genre: True Confessions  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: May 01, 2018

A A A | A A A

Submitted: May 01, 2018

A A A

A A A




For the first time in a while, I wasn't late for something, I even arrived to the station way to early for my departure. The delay didn't surprise me at all, but it sure made my heart race faster than it has ever done before. My thoughts started flooding with worries, worries coming and going just as fast as the trains did. I remembered then what one of my friends used to say, that trains are the post of memories, but what if I was trying to run away from all my memories?

The train station looked a lot like a cemetery of lost dreams and the few people that were spread across the platforms moved like shadows in the light of the sunrise. Above, the lethargic sun was hiding behind some tall factory buildings. Extremely cold, this summer morning. Below, the hum of the rails accompanied the somnolence of the platforms, so the only thing that kept me awake was the constant freezing cold gust of wind coming with each train that arrived. That and the electric buzz of my anxiety and impatience. Such calmness was no help for my ever-growing fear. I was urging for a distraction, anything that could take my mind off my past. For the first time in a while, music wasn't the answer. Each song, reminded me of a certain face, of a certain place in which I've first heard it, of a certain moment from my past. Everything I had, everything I once was lies buried somewhere among the streets of this city. Music was certainly not the answer, yet it made it seem as if time was slowing down, a minute became a century, a breath lasted a life-time.

With the idea about trains being a postman still in mind, I decided to write a letter for my past life, about everything that I was soon about to leave behind. About the childhood I've spent hiding underneath secular chestnut trees in dusty parks, watching the buildings disappear behind me as we were rushing past them in my parents' rusty car, reading under the blanket until the morning light starts to sneak into the room from beneath the curtains. Somewhere scattered through my room I hid all of my dark thoughts, all my sleepless nights and all the screams that followed me through my young years and replaced them with pleasant memories from the endless summer days spent away from the city and all of its hustle and bustle. They were no good to me anymore, all these memories, as the only thing that they've ever provided me with was p

For the first time in a while, I wasn't late for something, I even arrived to the station way to early for my departure. The delay didn't surprise me at all, but it sure made my heart race faster than it has ever done before. My thoughts started flooding with worries, worries coming and going just as fast as the trains did. I remembered then what one of my friends used to say, that trains are the post of memories. But my train -my postman- was late, and

The train station looked a lot like a cemetery of lost dreams and the few people that were spread across the platforms moved like shadows in the light of the sunrise. Above, the lethargic sun was hiding behind some tall factory buildings. Extremely cold, this summer morning. Below, the hum of the rails accompanied the somnolence of the platforms, so the only thing that kept me awake was the constant freezing cold gust of wind coming with each train that arrived. That and the electric buzz of my anxiety and impatience. Such calmness was no help for my evergrowing fear. I was urging for a distraction, anything that could take my mind off my past. For the first time in a while, music wasn't the answer. Each song, reminded me of a certain face, of a certain place in which i've first heard it, of a certain moment from my past. Everything I had, everything I once was lies burried somewhere among the streets of this city. Music was certainly not the answer, yet it made it seem as if time was slowing down, a minute became a century, a breath lasted a life-time.

Then the idea came to my mind, to write a letter for my past life, about everything that I was soon about to leave behind. About the childhood I've spent hiding underneath secular chestnut trees in dusty parks, watching the buildings disappear behind me as we were rushing past them in my parents' rusty car, reading under the blanket until the morning light starts to sneak into the room from beneath the curtains. Somewhere scattered through my room I hid all of my dark thoughts, all my sleepless nights and all the screams that followed me through my young years and replaced them with pleasant memories from the endless summer days spent away from the city and all of its hustle and bustle. They were no good to me anymore, all these memories, as the only thing that they've ever provided me with was pain.

The furious whistle of a train, followed by its familiar clackety-clack intrerrupted my stream of thoughts. After what felt like an eternity compressed in an hour, my train had finally arrived. In a moment, the weight of all my memories turned into a terrible migraine and all I wanted was to finally get comfortable in my seat and leave everything behind. I resisted the urge to look back, in my mind that scene only belonged in a sappy movie and I was certainly not in the right headspace for all that.

Sleeping fields and abandoned cities rushed past my dusty window. The sun was now making an appearance. Finally at peace, finally on my way to the blessed city. A fuzzy warmth made its way into my heart and wrapped it with shy happiness.

Soft sun rays soothed my face as I was dreaming of sleepy amber sunsets somewhere far, on a foreign sky in a different city. And before my eyes would have gotten to heavy to keep them open, I started writing my letter, so that the story of my past could finally be put to rest once and for all.

ain.

The furious whistle of a train, followed by its familiar clackety-clack intrerrupted my stream of thoughts. After what felt like an eternity compressed in an hour, my train had finally arrived. In a moment, the weight of all my memories turned into a terrible migraine and all I wanted was to finally get comfortable in my seat and leave everything behind. I resisted the urge to look back, in my mind that scene only belonged in a sappy movie and I was certainly not in the right headspace for all that.

Sleeping fields and abandoned cities rushed past my dusty window. The sun was now making an appearance. Finally at peace, finally on my way to the blessed city. A fuzzy warmth made its way into my heart and wrapped it with shy happiness.

Soft sun rays soothed my face as I was dreaming of sleepy amber sunsets somewhere far, on a foreign sky in a different city. And before my eyes would have gotten to heavy to keep them open, I started writing my letter, so that the story of my past could finally be put to rest once and for all.

 




© Copyright 2018 Zahăr Vanilat. All rights reserved.

Add Your Comments:

Comments

More True Confessions Short Stories