The train pulled up, its wheels screeching and heaving along the tracks. Time had passed in a mere blink of an eye. The trickles of people now an ocean of waves crashing as people boarded and disembarked.
Alarm flew in the girl's eyes. Concern cemented to her thoughts and expressions. A breeze had brushed her consciousness, barricading all sense and realism. The ashes of change were clogging up her airways, pressing down and bruising her neck. The girl needed a flicker, a spark, a tiny ember of forgotten hate to burn the light. Regret was an emotion that should have held no place in her being, it was a risk; a fault. She had to rip it from her body, detaching all strings and undesired emotions.
She cleaned herself of the emotions. Now was the opportunity, the shot. She dared not look back.
.....
A loved black heel appeared on the train, followed by a burnt frame and an aged, youthful face. The girl's hair fell in smoky waves down her back, a small indigenous artwork proudly worn on her wrist. The girl was on the train.
Without a second glance, the train hurried off, eager to get to its next destination. As the girl looked back, memories lingered at the station and as the wheels turned and turned they grew distant and eventually disappeared.
ESTÁS LEYENDO
Lost in a Void
Historia CortaThere she sits alone and haunted by each passing thought. She never belongs, she never lives. She just exists. "Separation is an outcast. It holds its victims by the throat and slowly wraps its fingers around them. It lives, feeding on the lonely, b...
