Summary: In a time between death and life, a man finds a moment to drink in land of steel and shadows. | Word Count: 3,326
The train came to a halt with one last lurch, rocking me back and forth. The steam hissed like a cornered snake hoping that this was not the end of life. Following right behind it was a high pitched whistle that screamed for me to get off. The sound was only for me – it only made sense. No one else was on this train. I suspected by now that not even a conductor was onboard.
Without much thought or worry of what I was doing, I stepped off the train and onto a square concrete platform. Not waiting on anyone else, the train departed with haste. Another shrill toot and it departed. I watched it sheepishly as it ran into a dark sea of nothingness. It floated in the air or perhaps there were invisible rails beneath the wheels. It was not for me to know, so I turned around to see what lay ahead.
In front of me was a bleak and gray world. The platform I stood on was the size of a baseball field and looked freshly poured with no signs of cracks or imperfections. At the opposite end of the grey platform there was a long skinny bridge leading to an island with towering buildings.
I squinted to see if I was seeing things right. All the buildings were windowless buildings, yet there was a frame for a window. It was a botch job if any as the concrete concealed the openings. The buildings were also bunched up together as if several city blocks were squished into one block and each grouping sat on a platform.
I wondered if this city had been destroyed and broke off into pieces to form each floating island. But there was no sense in that since all the buildings looked finished. Every building was a tall multistory building built from steel and smooth concrete without any décor or adornments. Most of them were connected by inner skywalks or exterior balconies. There were no wide streets in between the individual buildings – instead there were sidewalks, stairs, and pedestrian bridges connecting all buildings and long arching bridges connecting each platform to another.
“Not how I would build a city, but it’s something.” I admitted aloud “For this to be built the foreman must have been asleep and the engineers drunk.”
I concluded this place was lifeless, then concluded from that, that I must be dead and that hell is lonely. By all means, I should be concerned, yet I felt a serenity of emotion inside me. It was there ever since I opened my eyes and saw that I was on a moving train. One moment I was working at my grueling job, then next I was somewhere else. And the whole time I was more calm than I had ever been.
There were a few other considerations to be had.
I decided to look over the edge of the platform. My toes wiggled on the edge and my neck tilted down – straight downwards – to observe nothing. There was nothing there. Absolutely nothing down there other than darkness. That was far from normal. This place was void of any expectation of the world I knew beforehand.
I stepped back and looked forward. Either I could wait here until the end of time or I could proceed and discover what lay in store for my new after death destiny. Being inclined to always move forward in life and now I guess in death, I decided to take the path ahead. No use in jumping off to somewhere with no place to go. The only thing I had left to lose was my sanity – and in a place like this I might want to hold on to it.
The odd thing here other than choice of aesthetics was that there was no ambient sound. No wind. No animals. Only the sound of my footsteps and breathing. What a lonely place this must be!
I took a few steps upward to the stairs and continued on the narrow bridge. There was only enough room for one person to walk and the railing was solid. I felt like I was in an aqueduct flowing through the night. The scale of this place was difficult to determine. I thought I could cross the bridge in a short time, but now I saw the bridge stretch thousands of feet if not miles to the next platform.
Incidentally, I drew closer to another platform city connected by a different bridge that floated below the bridge I was on and was able to spy upon it with an awestruck eye. It should be named the city of shadows with all the buildings casting darkness all over the platforms. Above in the sky must have been some type of sun, but I had no clear idea of where it was as a sea of fog scattered a dim light evenly across the sky, which did not make sense in the directions of the shadow crisscrossing and going anywhere they pleased.
I kept walking until the bridge suddenly widened to several feet and then opened to a circle similar to a round-a-about in the street. Somehow the world changed before I could notice it.
Up ahead a tall arch floated above the mid portion of the circle and on each side there were two tall steel obelisks. This was some type of memorial or monument. I stopped in front of the arch to observe and saw that words were chiseled into the sides were words that read:
“Death is life. Walk to me and dither not.”
I could not help but sigh at the remembrance of my busy life. There was no time to slow down and enjoy anything for as long as I could remember. This journey after death is the only peace I’ve had in awhile.
“I dithered quite a lot.” I said aloud.
“Don’t we all. At least those who believe they had a less than good life do.” said a voice from behind.
I turned slowly around.
There stood a woman in an black cocktail dress, long gloves, and a wide brim hat that hid most of her face. One arm was on her hip next to a small purse and the other held a cigar. Next to her, standing guard was a burly and beefy man, who looked to be two feet taller than me at five foot nine. His forearms were wrapped in broken chains that I summarized had been used as crude weapons. The only thing he had on was overalls, not even shoes, which he could have used as his feet like the rest of him had a bluish tint.
It was funny who you would meet in the land of the dead.
“So what makes a good life?” I questioned the two people.
The woman sauntered to and then around me as if to analyze my entire self. Once she circled around she stopped and looked closely at my face as she continued to smoke. Her hat tilted up to reveal a ghastly scar that went from eye to chin and cut her perfect features in half. The scar could not hide her once flawless beauty. The thick scaring malformed her chin, nose, and right eye, but she could have been the sexiest Broadway star alive. She, like me, was dead. Her skin was pale like plaster and she smelled of whisky.
I could hear the man stop behind as his heavy feet thudded into the concrete. I did not turn around and he did not say anything. He said nothing. I did smell something metallic from him like fresh metal grinding against metal, a touch of grease, and the coal-rich air of the railroads I was used to smelling all day at work.
“A good life is one that is lived as wanted.” the woman stated.
Freedom I thought.
“We all have our masters. I could never live as I wanted. I did as I was commanded., hoping one day that I would become rich enough to free myself.” I admitted.
She smiled haughtily with pale red lips, then said, “You never figured out how to live then. You must work around the desires of others. Strategy is what you need. Follow me.” she said, waving her hand and walking away under the arch.
“And if I don’t want to?” I asked opening my arms and she turned back to me to smile.
The man picked me up and placed me on his shoulder like a child.
“Well then. I don’t have a choice. And I don’t yet have a strategy.” I said.
Surprising is a word that loses meaning here. The moment we stepped through the arch, we were in a different location. Still the same grey world, but the bridge widened.
I got the grand tour, being carried; all that was missing was the red carpet. I had nothing to do but look at everything around me. The bridge remained several feet wide and it was shorter now. I saw some end in sight. On both sides of the bridge there were many statues floating like works of art placed in a museum. All of them were made from stone and steel shaped in unusual configurations. Some resembled an octopus, while others twirled together some type of arm outstretched, and all the rest were undeterminable.
Further out in the air were no longer any floating cities, but walls. Towering walls of concrete taller than any mountain on Earth surround me. They rose from the infinite darkness of the floor to the infinite foggy whiteness of the sky. There were enormous steel columns lining the walls that were larger than any human made building.
“We are here.” said the woman who held out her hand to the end of the bridge which turned into a cul-de-sac with a table in the middle.
And with that, I was thrown down into a metal chair by the round concrete table with a small black box in the middle.
Both the women and the man sat down at the table. The woman put out her cigar in the black box and the man took off his chains and laid them next to him. I gawked at them for a few seconds until I raised my head. Above the table was a bright cube that seemed to split into another cube then reform over and over again. It sparkled and a warm draft was blowing, but also receding back as if there was a cycle of breathing emanating from it.
From her purse, the lady pulled a bottle of whisky and three shot glasses. She filled up all three.
“I think you need to relax. You miss what you don’t look for and that has been a lot.” she said, downing her bright golden brown liquid.
“Well that’s the thing. I feel relaxed now.” I said taking the glass and sniffing it.
I could smell the sharpness of the alcohol and a faint scent of wood and peanuts. The color was sparking under the light of the strange cube. Without being told to and without pondering on if I should or not, I poured it into my mouth.
I felt the burn through my chest, rising up the throat and through my nose. In an explosion of pleasure a serenity overcame me. That was the best whisky I have ever tasted, then I coughed.
The large man laughed at me, then drank a second shot.
“I looked for a lot. I am not sure what I am missing.” I said and indicated I wanted another shot.
The woman drank her second one, then poured me one.
“As I said, strategy.” she said, eying me sharply, “you gave up and let life rob you of joy. It broke you. It bent you. And you never reformed. Piece by piece, nail by nail, rail, by rail – a train track is built – yes?”
I nodded as I held the shot to my lips and waited on her to finish.
“Strategy is the anticipation of where that track is going and who you will be at the end of it.” the woman explained, then poured herself a third one.
“What plan could I have for without power? How can I do anything but be broke and fail? I could not see the end of the track, let alone who I will be the next day.” I said, downing the second shot.
This time the burning came quicker and lasted longer. I immediately coughed with a ragged hoarseness. The whisky somehow became strong, like drinking absinthe, yet it felt even stronger in elation.
The large man laughed yet again, deeper now, almost a howl, and took his third shot.
“And that is your sin. It was not failure, but giving up. Every moment brings the possibility to dream of something of worth, large or small. At every opportunity you either missed, waivered, or forgot to even look and you brought yourself spoil. Kings get away with murder if the townsfolk don’t rebel. You want change in the reigns, then you demand change or take them for yourself.” she answered, taking the third shot.
“Sounds so easy!” I complained, “Not a moment to breathe. Not a moment to sit around and puzzle about life, let alone think of the future.” I said and waved my hand for the third shot.
“You lacked focus. Most do.” said the large man, finally speaking after all this time, “They lose their passion. Nowhere to go, but down to their knees and beg. No shame in doing what you have to do to survive – but – when you have enough regrets – why is it that you lose focus?
I looked at him closer as the women poured my shot. He was covered in scars, burns, and bruises. I bet there was a tragic story behind each one. He need not mention it with words that he had a harder life than I did.
The large man noticed I was looking at his scars. I retreated my gaze at once and looked away in embarrassment. Yet instead of anger, he bellowed with laughter at my timid reaction. His eyes were like ice and his smile was like fire. This was a man who had seen the cruelty of life, yet did not waver in his assurance to a joyful laugh. Nothing was covering his pain. It was wide open honesty with nothing to hide.
“Life is built upon all that exists.” the woman said, touching the shoulder of the man to get him to stop laughing, “Your exploits are chiseled in time itself and remembered by Death. Even if no one else knows, what is so is so. Every action has a reaction. Tiny actions reach far across time and what truly matters is how precise your actions could have been.” the woman said and handed me the third shot.
I withheld the shot to my lips with a struggle between temptation and hesitation. I wondered if I could die in this world and what would that be like?
I drank the shot.
And then I fell to my knees as I violently choked. There was no pleasure in this last one, only a rapturous burning as if gasoline was poured down my throat and lit on fire. I grasped at my throat as I couldn’t breath and I fell to the floor. I was expecting the platform to feel cold, rather it was warm and I felt a slight beating of a heart that was not my own.
My eyesight went dark for a second and then at last I took a breath.
I rolled over on my back to witness both the woman and the man standing around me. They were holding hands and looking down at me as the fog far up in the sky started to swirl into a funnel that snaked downwards. I took deep breaths. Each one feeling heavier and heavier than the last. My body was weighed down and unresponsive. I was still alive in this dead world.
“What is this place?” I ask.
“You are far in between the past and someplace within the shadow of marching time. We too were like you, then we found beauty where we could and now we guide ones not ready for death.” the woman said.
“Those who give up, never find what they seek. But those who grind away and train hard shall inherit life’s treasures or die trying. So what is that you seek?” the man asked before I could ask any others.
I laid on the ground with no power to lift my head. For some reason an ache was growing throughout my skull. I was not sure if it was the whiskey or the fact they made me examine my life so intimately. Now I could not run from it anymore. I could not run from how unpleasant life had been. All the pain and for what?
The tornado was right above them all and the wind grew strong enough to pull all the art that had been floating around the bridge into the sky. Slowly cracks started to appear in the bridge and even the table. Everything was cracking apart revealing the steel framework underneath.
The man and woman looked at me unfazed by everything. All they desired was to hear my answer.
“I just wanted peace. I felt too stupid to do anything else except for what others told me to do. Ever since birth, I have ignored my own wants.” I said honestly and with the last of my strength to speak.
It felt like my head was exploding.
The two of them smiled and the wind funnel engulfed the entire platform. A mighty wind pulled me into the air and my mind floated into darkness.
“Then we grant you a chance for peace, but first go find it! Then walk back into death with a smile!” they both exclaimed.
Find how….
***
“SOMEONE! CALL THE PHYSICIAN!
“Great God!
“He’s gotta be dead!”
“No one can live from that!”
“His head is broken open!
All around me, I heard them shout and chatter like a field of nosey rats chattering about a sudden discovery of food. My vision was disoriented because I could only see with one eye that I was laying on the ground looking upwards. My hearing was muffled and there was a slight ringing going on in both ears. For some reason a warm liquid dripped down my face. I felt it on my hand as I wiped my head, yet I did not look at it.
I was too focused on everything else. What I saw was outlandish. I knew now I was crazy for I saw the world was filled with more color and was more vibrant than before. My entire life was a dream and at this moment my life was more real than before.
I looked at my coworkers faces. They all looked dead and frozen in place. A dozen of them had frowns hanging so far down their face, I thought of them as statues of sad clowns. Some of them were standing and watching me while others were crouched closer to observe something unusual. They looked in horror and shock as if death had come cloak and scythe to take them all.
I would have minded before, but this time I did not. I could only be thankful.
I was given a second chance by two powers beyond me – it was written into time. The opportunity to change was there. Even if I had to build that future – I would find it.
“He’s crazy! He’s smiling!” I heard one of my fellow rail workers yell.
What is so is so – means that what could be, might be. And I was now considering what train I would board before the tracks themselves had been laid.
Off Beat Off Kilter 