The Photographer

"Wake up ma'am, you've spent enough time sleeping." I try to open my eyes, but the warm call of sleep pulls me back in." I SAID WAKE UP SANDRA, you're going to miss your departure gate." Who the hell is Sandra, I attempt to ask aloud, but my dry chapped lips won't move. I'm trying as hard as I can, but they just won't crack. Before I can ponder the question long, I feel myself drifting back to that blissful place filled with smells of cinnamon and apple. MMM pie!!

CHOO CHOO !

I open my eyes and stare straight ahead in an attempt to gather my bearings. Numerous distorted images dance across my peripheral, but I am unable to make them out. My vision is cloudy, almost as if I am still in dreamland.

CHOO CHOO ! CHOO CHOO!

I look around me and notice that I am sitting all alone in an empty train. There is no furniture, no lights, no decorations. A strong chemical smell fills the air, and I hear four gongs sound off on a grandfather clock. The familiarity of the sound offers me a slight reprieve from the negative energy I feel in the air surrounding me. I look outside my window to determine the time, and I am met with dark clouds overhead. Dark grey clouds seem to stretch as far as the eyes can see, perfectly placed along the snow tipped mountains. The landscape appears as if it is a background for a photograph versus an actual landscape. A still image sits before me. It is composed of a continuous pattern of clouds with the mountains structured exactly the same way across the horizon, fine-tuned with what appears to be the perfect amount of editing done in photoshop. If I had my camera, this would be the perfect view for capturing a panoramic image. As absurd as it seems, I feel as if I have already enjoyed this same view and done just that. Strange.

The longer I stare at the unmoving clouds, an almost ominous feeling begins to overtake me. I can't tell if it's four am or p.m. I'm forgetting something important. There's this feeling in my gut, that I have to make some deadline. I strain to push the memory to surface, but like waves in an ocean, the thought recedes back before I am able to grab hold of it. Don't panic, don't panic I repeat to myself. Follow the sound of my voice. Walk towards the sliding door, move now. Is that voice coming from inside my head? Hurry, quick now before it's too late.

I stand up, but the strain from all that thinking has me a little lightheaded. This annoying voice in my head is beginning to frustrate me, I wish it would go away. I just want to sit back down, and stare at this view. Push yourself, I can only do so much for you. "Fine, just leave me alone". I see a button labeled "Press Here". I guess I might as well press here. The lights go out.

"Why is it so dark in here?" I close my eyes and count to five, because someone told me that counting makes it all better. Who was that someone? 1, 2, 3, 4, 5. I open my eyes and see an immaculately furnished train car. Reclining sofas sit atop green and cream-colored carpeting. Desk lamps sit atop perfectly sculpted wood tables, and lace curtains adorn every window on both sides. This is the perfect scene for a photo opt. I walk towards a window to get a better view of the outside, and the train begins to pick up speed. The speed is subtle at first, and then it begins to increase rapidly. MOM IF YOU CAN HEAR ME, PLEASE SAY SOMETHING. I'm right here mom, me and Jake. Please help us, you have to stop hiding in your own mind. I recognize this voice. It's me Grace, please remember me mom. My dear sweet Grace, how could I have ever forgotten the sound of your voice. Another voice in my head says sadly " The Doctor said her dementia has progressed." Dementia, such an awful, dreaded word. All of this chatter in my head has given me quite the headache, so I'm just going to take me a seat right on over here. I take a peek out the window, and several images flash before my eyes. I'm a photographer, I remember now. I love my work. I often stare at the photo's I've taken over the years and wonder how it would feel to live in those moments forever. Staring at my photo's help me when I feel lost and lonely, which is often nowadays. Everyone is off to college, or busy working, and I'm left to sit alone. I hear the voices in my head begging me to leave this train. I do leave the train, but not to return to them.

Tears gather in my eyes, as I summon the memory of the most perfect day I have ever experienced. Mother took me to the fountain that I had been begging to see for weeks. A lone figure stood at the fountain, her back turned towards everyone she had ever loved in life. That lone figure was me, and as I inhaled the fresh bloomed tree's from so long ago, I knew I had finally found my peace.

(Submitted long ago to the moving train challenge)