The 8.29 Express to Nowhere
The 8.29 Express to Penzance
The day should never have happened. It needed to be erased from this moment in time, abandoned as a never had been and not hailed as the stark reminder it really was. It held a gloom that mirrored his feelings sending them spiraling into a quagmire of no escape and a claustrophobia that knew no bounds. Such was his desperation to break the bonds that held him, he would have given anything to be on the 8.29 express to escape this day. But here he was like a non swimmer with flailing arms battling deep and turbulent water as he struggled to control his breath and counter the effects of panic. He had to exit his high rise confinement and strut the day away to make his goals come true. Thus with one determined breath, he ventured the gloom striding into the urban wilderness.
It was also a day that deeply affected the customers on platform 3 as they waited for the 8.29 to Penzance, their crest fallen faces likewise a reflection of the murky morning. The situation was exacerbated by the monotones of a masculine voice shrieking across the tannoy disrupting the taut, worried silence and informing them of further delay. Waves of grumbling and unrest infiltrated the atmosphere with commuters frantically leafing through mobile phones to text and inform relevant parties of their dire situation. A few had walked away in disgust seeking alternative forms of travel, while others sat resignedly on station benches.
He had always envied the lucky travelers on the 8.29 express when it had made its fleeting appearance forging a way along the tracks at speed. He could view its progress from the window of his flat, taking solace in the insistent sound it made and reveling in the aesthetic beauty of its destination. These thoughts guaranteed to disperse the darkness that dogged his mind and helped to free him temporarily from this life of hell. The 8.29 always kept a perfect timetable so if he hurried to his usual vantage point he would glimpse it better and live again his private utopia. Unemployed and pitifully short of money he was not in a position to purchase a ticket, but he had his reveries.
By now the disgruntled commuters had begun to complain with a vengeance demanding refunds, compensation and threatening legal action while railway staff busied themselves in fruitless efforts to placate their anger. Torrents of abuse issued forth liberally fueled by the oppressive day.
He felt the cloud lifting, the shackles yielding their grip whilst glimpsing a break in the sky that cast a beam of light upon his psyche. He clambered the barrier with ease, coursing a direct path down the embankment in perfect synchrony with the 8.29 lessening the gap between himself and Penzance. He would soon be there enjoying its delights, its wonders, its treasures as the reassuring sound of the 8.29 grew louder. In perfect timing, he took his stance, arms reaching skywards ready to embrace the new life. The shaft of light that emerged between the clouds alighted upon his ecstatic face and instantly he shed the bleakness. He did not notice the impact, only release and its destination. Today he had achieved a goal like no other.
The process of restoring everything back to normal took its toll as the gray day wept the hours away. The railway employees involved worked in a silent, meditative state pondering on the solemnity of the incident, shaking their heads in disbelief with tears prickling their eyes. Things would be back to normal soon and the timetable would be reinstated with profuse apologies to the furious customers ensuring normal daily living steam rolled on. He had finally realized his paradise without a ticket and no going back.
Comments