The Train Of Secrets
“Tickets please.” I droned, walking the aisle of the train, occasionally holding onto the back of a seat for balance. The
train tonight is loud, making my job unpleasant. The rocking, the clickety-clacking, the talking and the thoughts of the people aboard the train crowd in on me, surrounding me, trapping me in a bubble of cacophonous noise which makes my head thump.
Everyone, everything on board this train has a secret. The blonde woman sitting next to the business man in the grey suit is skipping dinner with her husband to see her lover. The businessman himself holds a secret, one so dark that if his work found out, he wouldn’t be a businessman anymore. The mother, thrusting a crumpled bundle of paper at me while she tries to soothe her screaming infant knows she hasn’t got the ticket, but hopes I won’t examine the paper she proffers, her chipped glitter polish winks at me. It knows the secret, I know the secret, and the train knows the secret. the train itself has a secret. It will derail soon, tired of working. Tired of carrying people and their taint. Tired of the flood of noise, the damage it suffers. And I, will delight in that. relish it. Hold the secret close, for I am the secret keeper of the train. And we, my dear passengers are aboard the train of secrets.