Wayward Train

His feet left dangling outside the old rusty locomotive car. He was idle with a mind that wandered, but his presence had a plan; one that wouldn’t always adhere to his wishes. The two graceful girls walking by the old train were pulled in by his captivating charm. He had a smile and a guitar, and that is how it all began.

They got on against all better judgments they had collectively. The train was rusty, old, and downright otherworldly, but his nucleus drew you in. The seats were wooden and had been worn down to their prehistoric bones. The air smelled of stagnation, but amidst it all was the promise of a wave big enough to carry them all. Like he had promised, the train did have something of a magical quality. And so it moved to the beat of mindless attention. Of popularity. Barren it was, but growth was on the horizon. The locomotive moved with purpose and found itself making serious headway down the rail. 

He’d peel himself away from the conductors suite to come and serenade the two. They were his only two for now. They enjoyed it. He attended to their every wish, and he catered to the smallest of desires. And for that they marched to the beat of his pedestrian drum. But the next stop saw change. The sun above christened by god had come even lower and cast early shadows on the train but at this stop he only saw more. 

A few more early adapters hopped on. It became slightly louder now. The seats began to fill and equally the train began to change. The dust from the floors had disintegrated and the wooden boards creaked less and less. Surely this was success in a way. And he came back time and time again to play a few more.  This time somewhat more reluctantly, but he did it. The jingles softer now and slightly muffled, but they were still beautiful yet. He looked over at the two originals and threw in their way that same smile that trapped them in the beginning. But low and behold the sun dipped just that bit more. 

It was time to stop yet again to of course let on more people. They came willingly now. It was more of a flood than a decision. It was blinder now, but definitely stronger. They came with a medley of street drugs and substances from other galaxies. They crowded the cars and fogged the air. It was increasingly louder now and the air was thickened with the strongest fumes known to existence. 

The seats had now become leather.  The floor now made of diamonds. The lights burned inside like bright spectacles while the sun outside began to fall by the second. Wine glasses passed around and jewelry littered the walkway. The train was reaching top speeds that could not be slowed so easily. He had officially hit the stride. 

But he came out once more, as it was possibly for the last time. He came out, sat down, and He took out his guitar. At this point it was semantics. Surely he did it with the greatest reluctance. All sound was lost amongst the noise. He played with little care, and he didn’t bother finish. He tossed it aside. And he glanced back at the two. Surely they thought it to be a gem at this point, but that smile was lost in the thick of the crowd. 

By now the rest were beating to a different drum. Their veins filled with everything that wasn’t blood. Their clothes slowly being ripped away from their bodies. Their lips finding every stimuli imaginable. The windows had now broken letting in winds from the fast. But there was one last stop. It was the point of no return. 

The train came to a crazy halt. And on walked a thousand new drums. The train was now stuffed wall to wall. And that was it. The train took off at the speed of light, and it was never said to have stopped again. Not even by an immovable object. 

He came out once more, but this time it was not to play. He chucked the instrument out the broken glass to be shredded by the world outside. He began to walk around handing out pamphlets to his newly imagined church. He required everyone to wear no clothes. He required everyone to look with only one eye. He required everyone to laugh to a certain beat, and he even put a cap on breathing. 

He surgically deconstructed the the foundation, and with trickery and sleight of hand, he reimagined a whole new world. He required their obedience. He required their souls. And they required oblivion. And after all, how could they deny him those wishes? Was it not what they had signed up for?

The train pressed on at an unimaginable pace down the rail through the life, into the thick of the chilly forest beyond. It was officially dark. Sight seeing no one thing, except the train. And it pressed on out of sight.

But there was one thing. Or things. The glare of the empathetic moon had shed some light on four brown boots. They lay motionless on that ground outside, adjacent to the tracks that had sent the locomotive into the future. And they stay motionless. But after all, they were now just a small insignificant number.