The Celestial Express

Karla wakes up in a groggy fashion and slowly sits up in her seat. While disoriented, she is wondering how she came to be here. However, Karla startles awake when she sees nothing but a night sky. Not even a skyline. Jolting up and kneeling on the seat places her hands on the large picture windows on the moving train? A train when she gets here? It must be in the country and it's so dark she just can't see anything. Perhaps she is on an elevated train or bridge? The stars are so close and big.

Twinkling stars of varying colors: white, purple, red, green, blue, and orange. Some of them radiated bright auras that pulsated to their own rhythm. Spiraling galaxies shimmer in the distance. A dream? But she felt the cold glass and the cushy leather seat beneath her.

-static- A voice sounds from the speaker. She jumps as words escape the static.

Tickets,* tickets please.* Scrambling or half slipping out of her booth frantically searches her waist coat or pant pockets for a ticket she doesn’t even remember purchasing. She doesn’t recall buying; or getting on, or even falling asleep. Wait, she doesn’t even take the train. Why did she take the train?

While emptying her pockets of scrap paper, something catches onto the edge of her pocket. -clunk- Looking down, finds a key. Not her house key or car key, but ‌an old-fashioned skeleton key. Attached was a note read (wake up).

“Huh?” She felt someone bump her shoulder. “Eh, sorry, excuse me. Do you ‌know–” Karla halts, asking as the attendant turns and has no facial features. The attendant just appears as a solid shadow in a uniform. Fancy looking with pleated pants, pin-stripped shirt with a garter and the sleeves rolled above their elbows. Top of their heads have a cap with the word, celestial expression embroidered on it and on their left shoulder as well. Stammering, she tries to repeat her question.

“Do you–do you know what this means?” Holding up the key. But the attendant just puts her hands down and gestures that she is supposed to keep it. She just places it in her pocket. “Can you help me, please?” The attendant just turns back towards the tea cart and pours a long, steaming stream of black tea into a delicate China cup. Carefully placing it on a saucer, hands it to her. She tries to decline, but they insist. Reluctantly taking it, the attendant turns to leave through the automatic doors.

Dejected, she looks down into her cup as if trying to get a reading. Contemplating, taking a sip was about to bring it to her lips when she hears her name being spoken inside her head. The sudden voice makes her spill some of her tea. It sounded like a man's voice, and it was familiar, but distant. It was at the tip of her tongue of the voice’s name. Looking into her half-empty cup can see the bottom. With no signs of anyone spills the rest of the tea; the bottom reads wake up. Bits of tea leaves formed a light ring around the words.

-wake up? - No doubt it was a dream, but it feels so real. Yes, even the unusually big sky looks real. But her dreams haven’t been this vivid before. Taking in her surroundings notes this is the last car; she can only go forwards. So Karla did right through the automatic doors. With her only clue being the key, she looks at it again. One side just had her name and the other the current date and time, 5:15. Looking at her watch, it seems it is long past that time and approaching midnight. That is usually when she gets off work. Her memory is hazy, but she recalls walking home from work and nothing.

An uneasy feeling creeps up her spine as tears streamed down her face. Is she dead? No,no,no,no; it is impossible. Karla? The voice reaches out. It comes from the left. But the cab is now empty. The voice is still distant, but ‌stronger and recognizable. Still no name but a familiarity; like a friend. Someone she is close to. Sometimes she hears beeping, but is unsure where it is coming from. She tries to get to the other door, but this cabin is stretching in both ways. Is the train going faster? The only telling being the celestial bodies stretching and blurring.

Still trudging on makes some headway to the next door, but this one has a handle. More voices are echoing about the chamber; some familiar, some not. All coming from the opposite side, traveling from the other side of the door. Instead, she opens it and continues on. This one is full of people. At least five of them and at least a couple of attendants. Providing drinks and food for the people. This one gentleman graciously takes the offered fruit tart topped with strawberries around the edge with pomegranate in the center. He is an elderly man that seems unbothered by the faceless shade serving him. The man takes a few bites of the dessert before continuing on with his paper.

The top read the Celestial Express newsletter in fancy calligraphy scripts. In columns are the daily obituaries. At the bottom with barely legible print, wake up again. Another woman about the guy's age was happily cross-stitching the patterns of apples in bushels by some apple trees. It was half finished. She looks up at Karla; smiling asks.

“What brings you on, dear?”

“I don’t know. I can’t seem to remember.” The old lady has a solemn expression, but nods and speaks in a kind voice.

“Well, it must have been sudden.” Don’t worry, I’m sure it will come back once you reach your destination.”

“My destination?”

“Yes, I know it seems scary, especially for someone so young, but it will be fine in the end.”

Taken aback by this isn’t sure how to respond other than hoping it does. There has to be a mistake.

There is something in the back of her head that is trying to tell her something isn’t right. It is like a pin-prick. Karla keeps hearing the whispers of the voices of the man the first voice is really ringing out. She turns to leave but is stopped by another shade, one with a conductor’s hat and holding up a hole puncher. *Tickets*Tickets please.* Cries the loudspeaker. The Shade holds out their hand and clicks the puncher twice. Her heart is racing, she has no ticket and what would happen if she doesn’t have one?

Reaching into her pocket begins explaining. “Look, I have no ticket, but I do have this key. Does that mean anything?” The shade looks at the key, then at her, and then at the key again. They slump their shoulders and appear to sigh. Goes over to a call box nearby and pushes a button. Taking out a pocket watch impatiently taps his foot. Looking back at the key takes a closer look. Turning it about tries to see other clues. Stunned, she looked again. It appears to have read 8:09… 8:10 and counting. If this train is what she assumes, then wasn’t 3:15 supposed to be, or it was… But why does her watch say it is close to midnight? She checks again. What was once 11 is now 11: 55. No way time went that fast.

By now, another shade came by with a clipboard to the thinner one’s relief. This one was broad shoulder and much taller, like bouncer height. To take down unruly passengers. First shade pointed at her and then the clipboard. The bouncer shade just looks at the clipboard, back at the first one, gestures to her as if to confirm. Then looks at the board flipping up a sheet of paper and scratching their head.

Perhaps she was reading this wrong. This had to be a dream and nothing else. But no way. This is more convincingly real. Looking back at the newsletter, and got a better look at it. Apparently, reports about accidents are on the back side. The Header reading the in-betweeners. Her name appears and underneath were the words again,wake up. Her back is to the door now. The screeching tires and horns were coming back to her now.

What if that is what they were trying to figure out? Perhaps she isn’t dead yet, but what if midnight was the cutoff for this place? If she had five minutes left of their time, are they figuring out if it's worth bothering to let me off or let me expire? Can they decide that? Is this even a choice? The key. The voices, she needs to go back. As long as there is time, she is going to try. She had barely opened the door when both shades approached her.

Nope. No way was this happening. The thinner one opens the door and makes an after you type pose. Looking at the bouncer, tries to coax her as well. First shade taps his foot again and reaches out the watch. It showed two times on the face: the main face has five to midnight. The smaller one at the bottom is showing a time after eight.

Right, time to get going. Moving through the cab, she hears the voices. They are just talking with each other. The man’s voice she now recognizes as a friend, Jerry. A few others, but still uncertain. Some must be doctors using medical jargon.

This time the cab wasn’t as long and when they reached the original cab heard beeping and a slight pressure on one of her fingers. The smaller shade notes the spill and glances at her. There was no time to worry about it. Both take her to the end of the line and the door with the padlock. Gesturing to the key in hand, points to the lock. Holding it up, Karla asks if she is to open it. Both nodding yes, the conductor holds up the watch still at five to. Nothing to do but trust them. Turn the key into the lock and open the door to the void. Hesitant, she leans out, and the conductor helps her with a nudge. Or shove-the bouncer looks at them and the conductor shrugs their shoulders.

Karla jerks awake and her monitor momentarily makes a sharp point up. Her head was bandaged, wrist was in a cast, and bruises were all over. Her friend Jerry, as the first to embrace her and shoulders, was shaking. In a hoarse voice tells her they almost lost her a few times. Now it appears she is more stable. Family and coworkers slowly filed in and out of the room during the next couple of days. A driver trying to beat the red light hit her and ended up on the guy's windshield. It was a miracle she survived the initial impact, but still needed emergency surgery.

It was a hectic few weeks of healing and her friend staying with her to help around the house. He was the only one that she told the ‘dream’ of knowing he would believe her. Only bits and pieces of the experience remain months later. Perhaps that is by design. Whether universal design or her psyche design to forget, but perhaps it is better for that.