One spring night I was sitting in my room and browsing the web. The window was open, allowing the moon and the wind and the darkness to enter. Nights like these had soothed my spirit since I was a little girl.
I stumbled upon an obscure piece of writing talking about an extraordinary journey one could take. The article didn’t say what the destination was or how long the journey would take. It depends on you, it assured.
Although my mind insisted it was a bunch of silly hogwash, some obscure section inside me was intrigued. I had traveled a lot. I had faced challenges only a female solo traveler faces. But this felt new. It was an intrigue I had never known before.
It didn’t make sense.
Why would I go on a journey to who knows where that takes who knows how long based on a random article written by who knows who?
What the article did mention was, where the journey begins. It talked about a mysterious train station I had never heard of before. When I searched for the train station online, it didn’t seem to be operating. Whoever wrote the article asserted that the station was always operating.
Another rather curious piece of information the article mentioned was that you had to bring everything most important to you. If you didn’t you would somehow not be admitted to proceed. How would they know, I wondered.
In terms of itinerary, the article remained equally obscure. Apparently you could just go there whenever you felt up to going on this journey.
For weeks, I kept rereading the article. It was constantly accompanying me in the back of my mind. Whatever I was doing, it was there, tempting me, beckoning me, to drop everything and embark.
Occasionally, a thought would implore me to abandon this foolishness and forget about it. But forgetting about this promised journey seemed as impossible as forgetting to breathe.
It took me 6 weeks until I had made up my mind. I decided to go. Either I would go on the adventure of a lifetime or I would waste a day by being the ass of someone’s joke. Both options were acceptable.
So I did as the anonymous writer suggested and packed my most valuable belongings — books, journals, art, manuscripts, dreams, hopes, beliefs, convictions, my life’s work, everything that defined me as a human being.
I left my apartment with an intimidating sense of departure. I had a strong feeling that I wouldn’t return to the comfort of my home any time soon.
The cab dropped me off in front of the train station. It most definitely seemed deserted. The building’s facade leading to the platform looked like it had survived 3-5 wars, barely. It looked weary.
I entered.
Inside wasn’t much better. Besides looking like it had been plundered a dozen times, there was no one there but me and a few haunting ghosts I imagined.
Now I was convinced all of this was a pile of dog poo and I had stepped right into it. Nonetheless, I walked on.
I emerged onto the platform. It proved as devoid of people as the building. I dropped my heavy bag to the ground and chuckled. This was what I was having sleepless nights over.
As I was about the leg it out of this haunted place, I saw a steadily growing point on the horizon to my left. A train was approaching.
An old steam locomotive rolled into the station, grinding to a halt with a screech.
A door opened and a smartly-dressed train conductor emerged.
“Howdie, young lady. Are we ready to embark?”
I was dumbstruck. At that point, I realized that I had been secretly convinced this was all a silly scam and now that it turned out to be an actual journey I hesitated.
“Er… I… eh…” I faltered.
“I understand that you must be quite surprised. Everyone is,” assured the conductor.
“Eh… what…” I continued eloquently.
“Many people after learning what is needed of them don’t get on. A few get on at the first time, many after many times. Some of them come back many times never getting on. Even if you don’t get on this time, you can always come back. This train never stops running. Well, it does stop on stations but you know what I mean,” the mysterious conductor explained.
“What is needed of me?”
“If you want to get on you must leave your luggage here at this station. Everything you believe is indispensable to you and everything you believe makes you you, you need to leave it.”
Are you crazy?!, I thought and clutched my bag tightly.
“Are you serious,” I said.
“Yes, dead serious,” he answered gravely.
“But why did I haul all my shit out here if I’m just supposed to leave at the station? Why couldn’t I have left it at home?” I was almost screaming. This was my life’s work on the line after all.
“This is the price,” the conductor responded calmly, “but as I said, you can always come back when you’re ready.”
“But what’s the point?” I was definitely screaming at this point.
“The point is,” the conductor deflected, “that the heavily loaded person you are right now can not take this journey. If you’re unwilling to leave yourself behind and become something else, then I advise you to turn around.”
My teeth were grinding, trying, unsuccessfully, to release the tension building throughout my body. What kind of decision was that? How can I just “leave myself behind”? This was complete madness.
But I was also unable to turn around. Two trains moving in opposite directions were tearing at me, threatening to split me in half. I was standing on a cliff enjoying a magnificent view and this conductor guy was telling me to jump down, figuratively speaking.
It was physically impossible.
“Well, you can always come back,” he said before submerging back through the door he had emerged from.
I dropped my luggage and rushed toward the door. And before I knew what had happened, I was on the moving train.
I stared at the conductor in shock.
“It always happens like that,” he smiled.
He guided me towards an empty seat in an empty wagon and disappeared down the aisle.
The train’s interior was like stepping into a past I never met. It was old-fashioned but clean and well-maintained. The seats were clad in a comfortable burgundy. The roof, floor, and walls were covered with luxurious Mahagony. And the aisle leading up and down the train hid the sound of your steps with a red carpet.
I looked out the window and relaxed.
As the world rushed past, I noticed tears streaming down my face. Was I grieving? Yes, I was. It felt different from any grief I had experienced before.
It felt unspecific like I was grieving for my life, for myself, for everything.
Each tear was a weight slipping off. Each tear unburdened my heart from a strain I didn’t know it was under. The tears kept falling and the Mahagony floor embraced their heavyness.
I noticed that I wasn’t concerned about my stuff. I wasn’t even concerned about myself. In fact, I barely knew who I was anymore.
This train had a strange effect on me. It was scary and cleansing and comforting all at the same time.
I no longer cared where I was going, nor did I seem to know where I was coming from although my memories hadn’t disappeared.
I no longer felt like a person. I realized I never knew what being a person felt like because I had taken it for granted. The person was swapped for a field of dancing sensations before I even knew what the person was.
Then the tears ceased and I just sat there in peace and contentment. Suddenly, I recognized that life was complete and whole and perfect. It has always been that but I couldn’t see it. I had been blinded by my thoughts, ambitions, and desires.
Who knew that such lightness and clarity were possible? Who knew that you could be happy right now?
The peace and contentment turned to joy and gratitude. An innocent smile plastered itself all across my heart.
The conductor noiselessly appeared beside me holding my bag with all my things.
“You forgot this at the station,” he winked mischievously before disappearing along the red carpet again.
I burst out laughing.
Luka
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What a beautiful story! I relate to this woman so much. Leaving your past behind is worth it, especially since you can never lose who you are. Getting ‘things’ back as a bonus is funny indeed 🙂 Thank you for posting this, brought tears to my eyes.
I’m glad you enjoyed it, Yulia. Much appreciated. 🙂
for a moment I thought this was going to be about death…it sounds a lot like it….
You’re not wrong. It is about a kind of death.
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