Natasha Read
Stories (1/0)
The Redemption Project
Irony; A beautiful sunlit day, white fluffy clouds, the perfect picture of peace and tranquility. Played like a film in the windows of a train full of people all destined for death. And yet, not one fearful face was present in these seats. I could periodically hear the wheels of the dinner trolley as the hostess moved on to the next person in the aisle. Closely followed by the extravagant clink of cutlery being placed down, real silver, and the brief murmur of pleasantries that were often shadowed by the sound of escaping steam as meal covers were removed. The aromas that drifted down the carriage towards me were unrivalled by anything my nostrils had ever previously experienced. It was an unfamiliar tingle that I could not wait for my tastebuds to dance in. My ribs poked through my silk shirt, reaching out towards the sensations they so desperately craved. My curiosity of what it meant to feel full overcame me, and I peaked round the edge of my seat, watching the other passengers dive in greedily. It was the ultimate oxymoron; savages eating in a place of finery.
By Natasha Read3 years ago in Fiction