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Repentance

5 R's of Repentance

By ChelaPublished 2 years ago 10 min read
2
Repentance
Photo by Joshua Hoehne on Unsplash

Episode 1

The rhythmic sounds of clickety clacking and powerful vibrations caused by the sand papered roughness on the wheel and rail surfaces make it difficult to reclaim my sanity. Hysteria creeps in like depression that has been patiently waiting for a response.

The trees are moving apace. I try to count them as they fly by, but their numbers are staggering; resembles a painting I once saw. Though I’m certain I clearly see a buck, its head lifting in acknowledgment. A mime of fog plays a trick, appearing then disappearing; reappearing with every breathe stolen in and out.

The air is thin in here and piercing my throat. I swallow repeatedly to feel its prickle. I perceive someone unfamiliar and staring back at me, a glimpse of a reflection inside an invisible window. I see twin river streams stained of mascara running down her face. I see rattled hair and a dingy white rag I removed moments before from covering my eyes, which now hangs around a purple-ish bruised neck.

I grasp my head wickedly whilst covering my ears with both hands as I begin circling all three-dimensions of my captivity in a deranged craze. The ceiling is within reach, I can touch it. The floor is lined with cheap carpet, I feel the generic fabric underneath my toes. The door is aluminum with large metallic bolts and, wait! Where is it? Where’s the handle? In that moment, what I fear becomes true. I turn back, the four paces to the window feel long distance. All four corners I’ve examined and not a single opening welcomes an escape.

“HELLLLPPPP. Get me out of here! Someone, please help! Can anybody hear me?”, worthless squalls fall upon silent ears because the noise from the train is far too clangorous, and I am but a prisoner.

For several momentous hours I’ve yelled and pleaded to no avail. The perception of time is a vengeful plot as I try not to think on how long I will remain here in solitude and confinement, but the sun is setting, and it will soon be nightfall. I’m feeling faint and nearing a fatal exhaustion from this predicament of perplexities and toppling over upon the discomfort of this bed and ignorance to rest; for what it is worth.

I awaken from a sedated slumber, limbs heavy and limp from aerobic depravation; unfolding my eyelids; heedfully uplifting my head abreast a covert and span full rest to find the silvery sleek door cracked open.

Episode 2

My legs shake like freshly served jelly underneath dead weight. Against my will, I succumb to the floor. I must get out of here. An outstretch of my arms, extension of my torso; legs folding beneath me gives way to a paraplegic crawl as my nails grasp the small strands of carpet to help catapult corpse weight.

As I regain my strength I stand up once again just as I make it to the door, swinging it open and fleeing without knowing which way to go. The adrenaline coursing throughout my veins and fueling my escape is snuffed out as I come to an abrupt halt. Florescent blood begins to pool beneath my feet. Covering the floor of the car are spikes of iridescent shards of glass as far as the eye can see.

I stand here in tears not understanding why this is happening to me, how this could even be happening. How did I get here? Why can’t I remember? What did I do so wrong to be tortured this way, but this is not the time for a trivial pursuit? The agony! It’s like an amputation without milk of the poppy, soles of my feet sliced and diced to a bloody pulp. I’m standing here frightened, shaking from the unsteadiness of the train and shaken nerves, but it’s as I’ve stated, there is no time. I dig deep to find the courage to make it to the next car. I grit my teeth and bare it.

The tip-toe steps taken to the next car are excruciating, but the second I open the door the adrenaline resurges. The train is moving at warp speed because what should be a visible track and ground is nothing; there’s no way I can jump. I’ll be swept underneath this train like spit out the window of a moving car going seventy-five miles per hour. I may already be dead, but I’m not suicidal.

Episode 3

I lean into the window on the door of the next car to see what other booby traps await. I cry out tears of joy because there are people. A man with short, dark hair reading a newspaper. I see a mother with her two small children, a boy with a toy airplane in his hand hoisted up in the air and a girl with a barbie doll. I look onward to see the tops of heads of multiple passengers.

I don’t know why, but I take a glance back inside the cabin behind me, there’s a sign on the door. NOT AN EXIT. DO NOT ENTER. I let out a sigh of relief as I lay my head against the door and wipe my tears. I’m safe. Whatever sick joke my captives were playing no longer holds me hostage. I escaped! I beat them at their little game I thought, as I let out an insane chuckle. My mind isn’t all there. How can it be?

I lay my hand on the handle feeling indescribable relief as I proceed cautiously. I creep inside the car which is surrounded by pristine windows and looks like a scene from a movie I saw once about a runaway train. The seats are plush velvet and blue and the carpet is vanilla with golden embroidery. I listen to the sound of music playing over speakers as it competes with the necessary banter of the locomotive; swaying forcefully from left to right, right to left.

I grab a hold of the headrest on the right aisle before I fall. Maintaining my balance is a struggle because my feet are raw with a multitude of small incisions that have maimed me. A struggle I welcome in hindsight of my previous reality.

” Hello please help me. I’ve been kidnapped and I need medical attention.”

I move in closer speaking so soft and timid no one could hear me over the melody. I speak again, this time in a higher octave.

” Hello please help me. I’ve been kidnapped and I need urgent medical attention.”

But not a single soul comes to my aid. It feels like an episode of the twilight zone.

“Hello? What’s wrong with you people didn’t’ you hear what I just said? I need help! Someone, help me please!”

The man reading the newspaper slowly turns the page. The little boy lands his plane. The little girl brushes her Barbie’s golden hair. Then the music stops.

“What’s going on here? It’s not funny. Please, I’m in danger.”

I move in closer. The man reading his newspaper is nearest; I place my hand on his shoulder firmly to get his attention.

“Sir, I need your help!”

I reposition myself directly in front him desperately swatting his paper to the floor, only he doesn’t flinch.

I take a closer look into his eyes; there he sits lifeless with pasty flesh. My hands begin to tremble as I look around the rest of the car. I run over to the woman and her two children and they’re all the same. I stumble backwards in disbelief and find myself once again on the floor. I quickly get up, running until I reach the front of the car. I turn around pressing my back against the exit door.

“They’re wax. They’re all wax. They aren’t real, this isn’t real!”

Malicious laughter begins filling the circumference of the car in taunting echoes. Displaying the characteristics of a person in shock I slide down the door until my buttocks reaches the floor, collapsing my arms around my knees as I nestle my weary head within them. When I look up, I see molded blood-stained footprints spread amongst the vanilla floor like hand painting, only with feet.

The temperature is noticeably hotter as I start sweating and finding it difficult to breathe. The peoples’ skins are melting and dripping onto the floor like maple syrup. I reach for the door again, but it’s jamming. I tug and tug as if my life depended on it because it did. The more I tussle with it the weaker and more dehydrated I become. I’m feeling light-headed as my eyes begin to swirl into the back of my head. Then pop! It cracks open; and I am falling onto the external platform of the following car.

I’m ready to die; defeat fills my mind with doubt. I plead aloud to be stricken down with haste and without pain. If I were to meet my demise here on this runaway train, alone, let it be void of further torments.

The air out here is below temperature and the sweat from my thin rags are starting to freeze. Maybe I’ll just stay out here and freeze to death…

Episode 4

I make my way onto the next car, just as alluring and divinely decorative as the last. This car is filled with succulent, likely forbidden fruit. The variety of grapes is plentiful— Pinot Noir, Sweet Jubilee, Crimson, Cotton Candy, Riesling, and a dozen others. There is wine and bread and finely sliced cheeses with butcher trimmed delicatessen meats.

I’m so famished the probability of it being poisoned passes through my mind like the saying, in one ear and out of the other. “Truly I tell you, one of you will betray me” (Matthew 26:21 NIV). My stomach and cheeks swell like helium filling a rubber balloon as I stuff food multitudinously into them.

The train begins to increase its momentum, or is it just illusiveness of the wine? If my captives come for me, I’ll be in no condition to protest. This is my last thought, before I pass out.

The Final Episode

I wake up in another car which must be the final one on this train because I can see endless laid track in front of me and nothing else. I can’t even tell if I’m coming or going. This car is a replica of a chaste lounge with maroon velvety chairs in golden trim and silk lining. The buttons stitched into the fabric creates a mountain of pillows. The ceiling is more intricate with design than the Roman Catholic Church, but the walls are a plain navy wallpaper only they are scribed in gold Old English Text.

You’ve been held captive by your fears. You’ve been held captive by the lies. You’ve been held captive by your wants and desires. You are in the captivity of your life.

When you awakened, you didn’t recognize yourself because you struggled with being who you wanted to be and with who others expected you to be. When you awakened, you didn’t recognize where you were because you weren’t where you wanted to be. When you reawakened, you awakened your soul after a long period of existing. The door without a handle symbolizes this imprisonment. The crack in the door that led to your escape symbolizes your desire to break free.

The first car represents the pain and the struggle of facing your fears. It represents the obstacles you’ve had to overcome in this life that might have blocked your path for a while, but you chose to break through those barriers. The blood is the price you paid.

The second car represents the people you trusted with your life who were supposed to keep you safe.

The third car represents the good and the bad.

The final car represents your freedom. You begin to realize the increasing velocity of the train represents the pace upon which life passes us by. Within this car you begin to realize why you are on this train and how you arrived.

But I don’t know how I arrived. Where’s my ticket? Was it punched? I scoured the rest of the walls and there was nothing left. No answers, just questions. I read it again and again and still don’t fully understand. I fell onto the chaste to rest. I looked up at the ceiling; arms laid out beside me when I saw it.

In Loving Memory…

Taboo
2

About the Creator

Chela

I’m a writer. I’ve known it all along. I ignored it all along. I don’t care to silence it anymore...💋

Reader insights

Outstanding

Excellent work. Looking forward to reading more!

Top insight

  1. Excellent storytelling

    Original narrative & well developed characters

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