The Train To God Knows Where

By Kenisha Kapur

“Your luggage, Ms. Élodie.” I stared at this man’s tall and lean structure longer than I should have, but who’s to say what’s right or wrong? Besides, the entire train journey I had been stuck inside my mind. And that can be a dark place.

“Would you like assistance of any kind, Ms. Élodie?” Élodie, yes, surely that was my name. I wasn’t subjected to hearing it much, so it often slipped my mind. Surely, he was addressing me. He had to be - his gaze was fixated upon mine. I took my luggage from him, not trusting myself to say the sensible thing, so I stayed silent.

The brown leather bag in my hand was rather light. I had no memory of what I had put in it. Perhaps it was empty, hollow, lacking any content - but I couldn’t be certain. I gripped onto its gold handle as though my life depended on it. It was all I owned.

I was walking. I hadn’t noticed it until this moment, but my feet were trodding a path, and I could hear the crunching sound of yellow autumn leaves with each step. That was also the minute I realized that my corset was far too tight and my flats were far too small. With the fabric trapping me, making it hard to breathe, and the flats making my toes curl, I thought it must be pain that I was feeling. I could hear faint music in the deep end of my mind. The notes seemed familiar - like I had known the tune my entire life. Maybe I had. A lullaby… “Moonshine and stardust in your dreams, darling.” Were those the words?

I was still walking, as it appeared to be. Did I even have a destination? I had taken a train. Why? My home had people like me, who understood me. So why did I leave?

I concluded then that I was numb – nothingness filled me. I thought of so many words, but they didn’t mean anything. I knew what I was supposed to feel, but I felt nothing.

My mind drifted to the man who had handed me my luggage. His eyes had been the same colour as the ocean, and suddenly, I missed the ocean dearly. When I would be too sore to work and have nothing but wrinkles covering my face, I would live by the ocean and watch waves crash at my feet every day.

I walked for what seemed like an hour, but I had no sense of time. I walked and strolled and walked, until… until I stopped.

My coming to a halt opened a window of thoughts to pour into my mind. I glanced over the cliff I stood on, and saw the ocean. The deep, blue, beautiful ocean. I took a few steps forward, as I took in the view. The vast waters filled my sight, as comfort filled my heart of stone. Yes… It was comfort that I felt. And as soon as I recognized what I was feeling, pleasure took over me and was carried by my veins to all parts of my body, awakening it. That’s when I knew. I knew why I had left the people who never understood me. I knew why I took a train to God knows where. I had escaped reality.

I opened my luggage with a click, and it wasn’t empty like I had suspected. Inside was a pair of white fairy wings and a wand. I picked up the two things and remembered childhood and playing pretend. Then I thought about how I never stopped playing pretend. I unlaced the corset that choked me and kicked off the flats that suffocated me.

I strapped the white wings onto my back, over my blue dress, and waved my wand as if I were casting a magic spell. A childlike rush was sent to each cell in my body. Once I knew my wings were perfectly on, I pushed off my bare feet and leapt. I was no longer grounded to the cliff, but nearing the ocean instead. I was falling. I was flying.

I closed my eyes and let the wind brush against my cheeks. All of a sudden, I forgot who I was, where I was and why things existed.

But there was one thing I knew: My inner child, who wanted to be a fairy, was satisfied. And my inner grandma, who wanted to embrace the ocean, was satisfied, too.

And the present me hit the water, and drowned in an ocean of moonshine and stardust and fairies and dreams.

By Kenisha Kapur