I Ride This Train

People tell me that I feel too much1

But I don't care2

I was riding the train in silence, the only sound was the rhythmic rumbling of the wheels on the metal tracks. Beside me, countless people without faces rocked back and forth from the shuddering movement of the car. A little girl squacked only once, but the harsh glances of the adults surrounding her kept her from doing so again. The silence was peaceful, though at times terrifying, and I felt as though each shallow inhalation of my lungs might rupture that perfect quiet.3

As the train passed through a tunnel, the car was little more than shadows accompanied by the dim neon lighting that lined the aisles. For a moment, the impulse to rise and walk down the train overtook me, and I grasped the smooth metal bar along the walkway to help me keep my balance. I could feel the eyes of the passenger's burning into me on every side, but I continued the course as planned. Between the cars, the metal walkway and chain fence danced uncontrolably and it was difficult to keep my balance as I stumbled into the next car.4

As I entered, the train emerged from the shadows and sped through the grassy fields of the countryside. Something had changed, however, as the new light shown upon the faces of the people. All fo them appeared to be frozen. My eyes passed over a man who was midway between turning the pages of his novel, and girl, who had a glass pressed to her lips, unmoved by the rattling and shaking of the train car. From the front of the car, the door was pressed open forcefully as a medium height man approximately my age entered. His blue eyes were frantic, but when he saw me, he seemed to calm a little. "You too?" he asked.5

Voicelessly I nodded my head.6

He didn't say anymore, but came to my side to survey the scene layed out before us. The countryside continued to speed by in a whirlwind of colour, yet nothing changed. The faces were as romanesque sculptures in human flesh, an dnone could be done to soften them.7

My companion turned and began walking towards the front of the train, where an engine surely would be waiting. I followed him, as he and I were alone on this train, and the glassy eyes of its passengers could be disconcerting to one alone. Each car we passed through was as solumn as the one before, just as startling with its frozen occupants, like he and I were passing through a photograph, undisturbed. When we reached the engine, we were terrified to find it empty. Where was the conductor? He and I knew nothing of driving, but the track seemed to continue on forward in a strait line, so for now, at least, we were safe. He swung himself out into the wind at a 45 degree angle from the engine. Under normal circumstances I would have been terrified by such action, but these were not normal circumstances. My lesser half caused me to join him, and as my body hit the wind that was brought on by the train's momentum, my hair fluttered backward and beat upon the nape of my neck. In front of me, he whooped in exhileration of the ride, and I couldn't keep a smile from breaking my stoic face. Then he did something quite unexpected. Turning back and smirking at me, he wrapped both hands tightly around the handle and began to climb the train. It was in a complete state of shock that I watched him get dangerously higher, but he paused just one and locked eyes with me.8

I followed him.9

The view from the top of the train engine was spectacular. Even a ride on the TGV couldn't have warranted as much appreciation from a silent observer like myself. The wind overpowered me and forced me into a crouching position, though he remained upright with both arms outstretched as though in defiance of the wind's awesome power. He whooped again, and I chuckled; he was so alive. After a good few minutes of standing enraptured in silence wonder, he started singing. He sang of the train we were riding, ina dreamlike state of mind. He sang of the hypocrites of the world who tell him he feels too much. "But I don't care!" he shouted to the wind.10

"I don't care..." I echoed him, subdoed and virtually unheard over the blast.11

He turned then, joining me on my rattling precipice, and dangled his feet over the edge. "So Daniel," he murmered quietly, and he placed a strong hand on my shoulder. "This train's already moving. What are you gunna do?"12

I smiled back at him, fingering a set of drumsticks that had emerged from my pocket. "Looks like I'm coming along for the ride, Darren." I replied.13

And the train kept moving.14