The Traits Train

A blurred view of green hills moving in the distance, that is the first thing he sees as he opens his eyes. His head is leaning on a big window, it feels cold on his cheekbone. He takes his first conscious breath, the air stinks of chemicals, an ether-like odor. He looks around, trying to make sense of where he is in this spinning surrounding. I'm so dizzy, I've never waken up so tired, he thinks to himself. He doesn't understand what is going on, he just feels really heavy.

"Look who finally decided to open their eyes!" says a masculine voice.

He turns his head towards the sound, he can barely distinguish the silhouette standing there.

"Mister Nassi, I presume." says the voice.

Nassi rubs his eyes in an attempt to see better. "Huh?"

"You better start talking." continues the voice .

"What? I'm... I'm confused..." mutters Nassi.

"I'm sure you are!" says the man with a hint of suspicion in his voice.

Nassi's vision begins to readjust and he starts perceiving some human forms in the silhouette.

"Who are y... you? Wh... What's going on?" he mumbles again.

"Well you are the one who is about to tell me what in the dinger's hell is going on here!" implies the voice dominantly.

As Nassi's vision comes back, the silhouette appears more like a person. Besides the angry expression that he wears as he stares at Nassi, the man looks rather funny: short and chubby, and shaped like a butternut. He is standing beneath an open doorway, wearing a perfectly ironed dark blue suit, a dark blue tie and a white shirt. Uniform, Nassi notices, a cop. Around his waist, a black baton hangs unto his belt. On top of his head rests a hat of the same shade of blue as the suit, with a black plastic visor, slightly covering his eyebrows. Nassi takes a quick glance around the room. What am I doing in a train compartment? He looks back at the man, his face is clean shaven except for a well-groomed moustache, so large that it covers his upper lips, it looks like handlebars and seems to fit perfectly with his uniform. What a cliché, Nassi thinks. The man is holding a small notebook in his left hand.

"Wh... What's going on?" asks Nassi again, hesitantly.

"Oh do not even try that with me!" says the man while pressing his index and thumb fingers against his moustache. "You better start explaining yourself!"

"Explain what? I don't ge..."

"Stop playing games with me!" barks the man.

Nassi loses his patience. "Listen mister officer! I don't know what's going on, I promise you tha..."

"I am surely not an officer" interrupts the man, "I am the train conductor!" proudly grabbing the side of his visor and pulling the hat down. "Wait till the real officers get here, you will ge..."

"Okay, listen to me mister conductor" interrupts Nassi with a more calming voice, "I really don't know what's going on right now, I'm barely able to see you, I have a huge headache and I don't remember how I got here."

The man crosses his arms and frowns his eyebrows. "That is simply impossible and I will not believe it!"

"I think you..." tries to explain Nassi.

"Let me tell you what I think!" interrupts the man. "I was doing my round, checking tickets as usual. I was checking the lavatory for anyone who was hiding to avoid paying their ticket and decided to make use of the situation and have a quick pee break. There I was, minding my own business, when the door suddenly pushed open, I did not get the time to say it was occupied, I just felt something hit my head," he rests his right hand on the back of his head and frowns his face, "I fell on the ground and everything went dark. Next thing I remember, I am waking up with my head almost in the disgusting drop chute, and the whole train is empty. I searched everywhere from the caboose to the locomotive, there was nobody. No crew, no luggages, all the passengers gone, all except for one." he points his fingers at Nassi. "You!"

Nassi's eyes widen with fear from the intensity of the accusation he sensed in these last words.

"I apologize but I had to search you while you were asleep, duty called," continues the man with a certain pride that seemed to cover up his shame, "and I have found nothing!" His anger grew. "No proof of identity, no keys, no device, no money, not even a speck of dust in your pockets, only this!" He takes out a ticket from the front pocket of his suit. "With your name on it: Nassi. Destination? Empty!" He throws the ticket at Nassi's face.

Nassi takes a glance at the ticket that dropped on the bench next to him, several pen-sized holes pierced in the ticket make it impossible to read what is written in front of 'From' and 'To'. Someone really made an effort to hide this, he notes to himself.

"I think you know exactly what is going on" continues the man with a hint of suspicion, "so you better start explaining yourself!"

Nassi's shoulders and head drop in resignation. "I don't know what to say..."

"The truth!" insists the conductor.

What a stubborn man, he thinks. "I understand your position, really... It makes so much sense that you would suspect me, I would do the same if I..."

"Do not dare to try that sympathizing manipulation on me." interrupts the inspector.

"Then I ask you to trust me!" shouts Nassi abruptely, landing the words in the conductor like an arrow to his heart.

The conductor's body stiffs up, his head drops back slight as he frowns his brows and stares blankly at the young man who just snapped at him.

"Please," resumes Nassi with some sadness in his voice, "I am as lost and confused as you are."

The conductor's body relaxes, he drops his shoulders.

"If I turn out to be responsible for any of this, I promise you that I'll hand myself over to the authorities." adds Nassi.

The conductor takes out a pen from his right pocket, flips a bunch of pages in his notebook and writes something down. "Fine!" he mumbles.

They stare at each other for a few seconds.

I need to calm this man down, Nassi thinks. He looks at the notebook. "What are you writing?"

The man observes the notebook in his hand for a few seconds, then looks back at Nassi. "I contacted the authorities and informed them of the situation, they asked me to start investigating on my side until they decide how to proceed." he shuts his eyes for a few seconds in sign of self-admiration, "I am taking notes and I will do all I can to help them solve this!"

They're probably just trying to keep him busy and he thinks he's going to save the day, Nassi thinks, poor man. "So you are an officer afterall!" he says, smirking at the man.

The conductor stares at him suspiciously and writes something down in his notebook.

"Is there anyone you can call?" asks the conductor.

"Not really" answers Nassi.

"No family?"

"No, I live by myself"

"Parents?"

"No"

"You hate your parents?"

Seriously? What a jerk, Nassi thinks to himself. He looks at him with a piercing look. "My parents are dead."

The man makes a note. "What about some friends?"

"Not really" Nassi lets out a long sigh, "I haven't had friends for some time now."

The man seems strangely interested and makes a note. "How so?"

"Well..." starts Nassi with a fragile voice, "ever since my... ever since I found out about..." his sudden watery eyes reveal that Nassi is touching a sensitive subject, he hesitates.

The man makes a note. "About?"

Nassi shakes his head and wipes his eyes with the palm of his hands. "How is this relevant to the situation?"

He makes a note. "I do not know, everything is relevant, maybe by remembering old memories, you activate recent ones and you would find out what you are doing here."

Nassi takes a breath and nods. "I guess."

The man makes a note.

"A couple of years ago I found out that..." Nassi's voice becomes shaky again, he stops and closes his eyes for a couple of seconds, takes another deep breath in an attempt to control what he is feeling. "My partner had been pretending to work nightshifts at her job for over a year," he continues after opening his eyes "and I got the priviledge to discover that she was actually sleeping with another man." he finishes, sarcastically.

The conductor gives him a look of pity. "I am no shrink but... would that not be the best time to rea..." he hesitates for a moment, "Excuse me if this is none of my business, but it seems to me that this would be the best time to reach out to your friends. No?"

A fake smile grows on Nassi's face. "This man was my friend."

"Oh." The man stares at Nassi awkwardly and makes a note.

Out of the corner of his eye, Nassi catches a glimpse of what seems like a train station in a small town. He turns his head to have a better look and spots a sign but is not able to read what it says, the train is moving too quickly.

He turns his head towards the conductor. "Why haven't you stopped the train until now?" with a hint of obviousness.

"The authorities have asked me not to stop." he replies with a certain rigidity, knowing the consequences of that answer.

"What?" scoffs Nassi as if it was some bad joke.

"Highball it out of here. These are my orders."

"Huh?" replies Nassi confused.

"Until I send them my first report of what happened here, this train will keep running. These are our orders and we shall follow them." he answers proudly.

"Sorry but I'm not following those stupid orders," answers Nassi arrogantly, "take me to the radio I want to talk to the..."

"You are not talking to anyone or going anywhere." interrupts the man with assertion.

Nassi stands up and clenches his fists in revolt. "That's bullshit!"

The conductor stares at him, provoked by Nassi's attitude, making an effort to maintain his composure."Excuse me?" he retorts strongly, yet with such mastery of his anger that the two words resonate in the compartment like a gavel on hardwood.

"You can't keep me in here just because you don't know how to do your job! That's not fair! I'm not staying here, where's the radio to talk to them? I'm getting out of he..."

"Now you listen to me!" interrupts the conductor while pointing his pen at Nassi, "You are not going to move from this bench unless I say so. I am the one who is going to have to deal with the authorities when they get here. I have a bruise on my head, I am in aching pain," he moves his hand up and down, straightening his fingers one by one starting with the thumb, as he says each one of these sentences, as if he is making a list, "I have an empty train full of nothing but mystery and confusion, there is a man here," he aims his hand towards Nassi, the pen still held between his fingers, "who claims to not know how or why he got here," he curls back his fingers and turns his hand into a fist, "he has no papers, no proof of identity, nothing other than a rebellious attitude and he is implying that I should trust him!"

Nassi is shocked at the brute force in the man's response.

"I will get to the bottom of this, with or without your cooperation. Do I make myself clear?" he adds with the same sharpness and clarity.

Nassi sits back down and withdraws in obedience, feeling as if he had just retreated from a battle he could not win.

The man keeps staring at Nassi for a moment, and then writes something down in his notebook. He looks back at Nassi and his face changes, showing signs of regret. "I apologize" he says.

Nassi looks at him, half surprised and half touched by the sudden shift in the man's tone.

"I did not mean to yell at you" continues the conductor.

Nassi is still feeling angry at the man's previous rant, but there he is opening up in front of him and apologizing. Nassi starts feeling the discomfort of not knowing how to react or what to do with his emotion.

"I am just really stressed out about this situation," adds the man, "it is a huge load on my shoulders."

I misjudged him, thinks Nassi, he's just really pressured. "I understand," he replies compassionately, "I'm sorry too, I overreacted."

The conductor looks at Nassi with intrigue and makes a note.

Nassi observes the man absorbed in his notebook. He's so preoccupied with this investigation, he thinks, this poor man is confused. "I think you're doing a great job" he adds.

The conductor smiles. "You have been vulnerable with me about your story and I appreciate that."

Nassi tries to hide how surprised he is by the sudden gentleness of the man and again, he does not know how to react.

"I can relate," adds the man. "I have not had friends myself for such a long time" as a sadness rode his voice.

He's trying to create some kind of relating, observes Nassi, I'm not sure if what he's saying is really true. He looks at the man, and feels some kind of appreciation for him. Who cares? he thinks, it's the intention that counts. "Oh" he says pleasantly.

"I love my job because I get to meet and talk to many people, and it is great, but I cannot call them my friends really."

Nassi nods his head as a sign of encouragement for the man to keep going. "Yeah?"

The man looks at Nassi and lets out a chuckle of embarassement. "Sorry, now I am the one being all sentimental" he wipes his eyes. "Probably the last thing you care about right now, no?"

"It's okay," pleads Nassi, "really."

The man makes a note, puts his shiny pen back in his pocket and shuts his notebook. He looks at Nassi, then at the empty space between them, then back at Nassi and smiles, signaling that he would like to sit next to him.

How courteous, observes Nassi with respect. He nods.

The conductor sits down. "My name is Khan" he says with a big smile as he brings his hand towards Nassi.

For a brief moment, Nassi looks at the man's hand suspended in the air, hesitant, and finally decides to join him in a warm handshake. Finally some human connection, he thinks. He smiles back in relief. "Hey Khan."

Khan keeps smiling for a moment, then looks out the window behind Nassi. "Look at that."

Nassi is surprised by Khan's sudden shift of attention, he looks behind him and sees nothing special, just trees and hills. He turns his head back towards Khan with a skeptical look on his face.

"Look at that magnificence" adds Khan melancholically.

Nassi turns his head to look at the scenery and still sees nothing special, some hills have flowers on them and the sky is clear without a single cloud. He gets his face closer to the window, resting his forehead on the glass.

"What are you..." starts mumbling Nassi, spreading out a cloud of fog on the glass around his mouth.

"Just listen for a bit." says Khan, gently interrupting him.

Nassi stays silent for a moment, still observing the outside and for the first time since he opened his eyes, he notices the sound of the trees as they fly past the window. Almost like small waves crashing on the shore, in a perfectly rythmic manner. They stand tall and proud, one every couple of meters, following the curves of the railway tracks. They all appear to be from the same species, they look the same atleast, with dark green leaves and a dark brown bark. What is exceptional about them is that the first meter or two of their trunk has no bark, it seems to be cut off. What is left are bright red skinless trees, with saw marks all over, almost horrifying to see. What do they do with the bark? he wonders with sadness as he looked at the naked trees.

He hears Khan's deep voice from behind: "Such majesty."

Behind the tree line, countless hills spread like giant green bellies coming out of the earth, filling the landscape until the horizon. Flowers cover the most distant hills, coloring them with shades of indigo and yellow, but mostly of the latter.

"There is nothing more calming than the beauty of the wild" says Khan. "Have you noticed the silence in here since you looked out the window?"

Nassi's attention comes back into the compartment, he observes how accurate this was. How long have I been observing the outside? He asks himself. He felt like everything slowed down, his thoughts, his anxiety, as if the speed of life itself simply decelerated. He had forgotten all about the tensions he was experiencing on this side of the window just a few moments ago.

"I kind of forgot what was going on in here" says Nassi with astonishement.

"The magic of the wild" replies Khan, with a look of fascination painted on his face.

Nassi smiles as he looks back towards the outside. I would give anything to be on that other side, hiking in nature, he thinks wishfully.

"I wish to be walking out there right now" says Khan.

Jinx, playfully says Nassi in his mind, as he looks at the man with affection. Sad man, must be a tough job to witness such a majestic sight all day long yet be stuck in here.

"There is so much nature out there, it is abundant!" says Khan, "How is that memory of yours doing by the way?" he adds curiously.

"I'm getting a few flashes, but nothing quite detailed honestly."

"Maybe I should bring you a glass of water, it could help." He pushes his hands on the bench and starts to get up.

"I think I do remember you though" says Nassi.

Khan stops midway, he seems troubled by these words. "Oh," he says while he sits back down and smiles at Nassi awkwardly, "you do?"

"Yeah, just before getting on the train" Nassi replies, "I showed you my ticket on the platform."

"Oh yes, right!" he nods with a smile of relief, awakwardly showing part of his teeth.

Nassi bends slightly over towards Khan, frowns his eyebrows while squeezing his eyes and scans Khan from boots to hat. "I'm remembering a few details, you seem to look different in my memories though."

"Really?" asks Khan, surprised and troubled again, "How so?"

"I would say," he points his index finger at Khan's feet and moves it slowly upwards. stopping at his head, "a bit taller."

"Oh!" Khan retorts as he slaps his notebook on the bench "I wish!" He grabs his belly with both of his hands. "Was I thinner as well?" he adds sarcastically.

"You had no moustache."

Khan bursts out laughing. "Really?! What strange memories."

"It's silly, and I'm afraid that they're warped and maybe they'll never come back to normal." says Nassi, despair taking over his voice.

"You should be grateful that your memory is improving," answers Khan, "even if it is a bit warped."

"I guess." Nassi calms down. "Thanks for the perspective."

"Give it some time, I am glad it is coming back to you." says Khan while softly tapping Nassi on the shoulder in a friendly gesture. "I will go get you that drink in the meantime."

He gets up and slowly walks out of the compartment. Nassi looks out the window, admiring the scenery again. It really is beautiful, he thinks, this is such an intense experience, I really want to be done with it and go home. He makes a promise to himself to go camping next weekend and enjoy some time off in nature, or the wild as Khan called it. What about inviting him for a picnic? he thinks to himself, excited about the idea, he's a sweet man and he looks like he could use some company. His attention comes back to a pain on his sitting bones.

"These benches are really shitty!" he says angrily as he puts his hands on the bench to test the firmness of the cushions. He notices Khan's notebook on the edge where he was sitting. It is white, rather small and the cover has 'organic paper' written in small italic letters on the bottom.

He laughs. "Seriously?"

The notebook has a spiral on top with pages that flip upwards. Oh wow! he reacts, this is great for lefties, I can't stand when the spirals are on the side. He peeks at the doorway briefly and with reckless excitement similar to a child who is about to break a rule, he throws himself on the bench, lays on his stomache and grabs the notebook. He opens the first page and finds a sketch of an antique train. Oh wow, impressive drawing skills! He flips to the next page to find a sketch of a train compartment, similar to the one he is in now. He probably draws when he's bored in here, reflects Nassi, what a useful way to spend time. He flips to the next page, there is a big red heart drawn with chalk and has the sentence 'love them with all their parts' written inside. What a sensitive man hiding behind this rough uniform. He flips the page and written in black ink it says 'none of your ideas is worth hiding, your readers can take care of themselves, shame is the real writer killer!' A sketched and a writer? he wonders with excitement. He flips to the next page, it is titled 'storyboard'. He flips, the next page says 'how to create a plot' and has a few drawings below. He flips again, the next page says 'character development' and has a few scribbles here and there. Flip, 'the art of dialogue', this one has a few stickmen with speech bubbles.

"Wow, he's really into it!" he says with admiration.

He flips to the next page: 'plot twists are overrated'. Empty, he notices. He flips to the next one, it's titled 'Runaway Train: checklist', there are a few notes on the page:

Does he self-medicate? Nassi wonders, with a feeling of worry for the man. He flips to the next page, there are a bunch of quotes on this one as well, written in capital letters:

Quite radical, he thinks. He keeps on flipping the pages. More train sketches, how boring does this job get? He gets to a page with a big title: 'Runaway Train: characters test'. A few notes are scribbled here and there:

Weird, observes Nassi. He flips to the next page, it looks similar but different personality traits are written down:

The next Agatha Christie? he wonders sarcastically. He flips to the next page and again, different traits, different name. He flips about eight more pages, they all have the same format: a few characteristics, a name and some kind of conclusion. He probably gets inspired by the passengers on the trains. He keeps flipping the pages rapidly, dozens of them, until he reaches blank ones. He stops and goes back until he finds the last page with writtings on it. There is a small sketch of a man sitting on a bench in a train compartment, his head leaning on the window and seems to be sleeping, Nassi looks closer. Is that me? he frets. On the back of the page, there are notes and the ink seems fresh on this one:

Nassi's eyes open wide with shock as he reads that last sentence, his heart skips a beat and he loses control of his muscles. The notebook drops from his hand, letting out a thud as it slams on the wooden floor.

"Characters should not know too much" says a voice coming from the door.

An electrifying sensation suddenly rises from Nassi's lower back to the top of his spine as the fear hormones kick in. He feels his chest suddenly engulfing in pain and angst. He looks up, Khan is standing under the doorway staring down at him, holding a half-filled glass in one hand and the other one gripping the baton hanging by his belt. Two thirds of his moustache are hanging over his mouth, swinging like a pendulum. He brings the unglued part back unto his upperlip and presses strongly against it using his index and thumb fingers. He is smiling, an asymmetric and apologetic smile and his head is shaking with an expression of deep disappointment. As the rocking movement of his head gradually comes to a stop, his lips slowly widen, little by little, until his smile covers most of his face. He stares deep into Nassi's eyes with a threatening sinister look, and winks at him, sending another wave of shivers down his spine. In a flash, the man dives towards Nassi with the baton, hitting him on the head, and everything goes dark.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

An indisctinct view of colorful hills moving in the distance, that is the first thing she sees as she opens her eyes.

"Look who finally decided to wake up!"

...

...

...

Notes from the author.

Hello! I'm Ragui and this is the first short story that I have ever written and published, and what a great joy this writing process was for me. A huge learning process and a humbling one as well. I wish you a great and *insert witty adjective* read.

I want to thank my friend and flatmate Devin for his invitation to join this contest and for our beautiful shared working spaces. "How can we enter in competition and still stay in connection?" was my side quest during this writing adventure. From emotional and moral support, to encouragement, to pushing eachother to our edges, I am glad to have had a teammate. Check out his beautiful entry for the contest!