The rubbing of iron wheels on the tracks. The cyclical sound, similar to the beating of a heart, of the carriages. From time to time, a roar comes from the head of the train, from the locomotive.

I hold the handrail and move forward into the carriages. They are with dark wood interiors. The corridor is on the left, and the four-seater cabins are on the right. Two armchairs per cabin. A Gothic window lights the space and a small celesta is for those who want to play.

The red carpet runs through all the carriages and has gold embroidery that creates simple geometric patterns, always the same but with different patterns.

I turn away from the cabin, holding onto the handrail. The light outside is warm. Enveloping. There is a high sun in the blue sky and a calm sea. An endless wooden dock with huts and shacks for fishing. Crates, barrels, now and then, the train passes boats and electricity poles.

But there are no fish, no fishermen.

I do not know exactly what these words represent, but I own them.

The train travels fast. Its roar draws me back towards the door at the end of the corridor. It seems to breathe; it calls me back.

That's right, I was going to the front of the train.

I start walking on the soft carpet again. My long red dresses fall, leaving a trail in which my tails are wrapped and hidden.

I open the door. The noise becomes louder outdoors. The floor shakes. Leaning on the railing, I notice what's on the right, where the windows of the cabins do not allow me to see.

I feel uncomfortable and want to continue further. This step is always the worst. Every time. Every time is like the first, even though I feel used to it. I know nothing will happen to me.

Their presence disturbs me, the messages they send to my mind.

The Chess Forest. Pieces of red, black, gold, silver, and rust (the sick ones) intersect, grow, break, and sometimes eat. A dark tangle under whose foliage the sunlight struggles to penetrate.

There are chains and iron vines that make the entire forest a single network.

I do not have to go there; I do not want to go there.

Because they are there: the monkeys.

Monkeys with hideous jaws and hairless bodies that whispered terrible things to me. It is thanks to them that I know what a train is, and it is also thanks to them that I discovered that you—hidden tail with the snake's head—like my monologues.

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They whisper even now, they say not to trust, to go back to them, that they love me for who I am. They have nasal, guttural voices, and their teeth often chatter. A chorus of teeth chattering while not speaking.

Yet I do not trust them. There's something evil about them. And they call me, tempt me. Rarely do they show themselves. I want you to join them in the forest.

Luckily, I have another goal. I manage to resist.

I have to reach the front of the train. Understand what my stop will be.

I quickly run to the other door. I lock myself inside.

Another carriage, another corridor, other cabins.

The train roars. An annoying whistle triggers braking. I hold the handrail to avoid tripping over my purple clothes.

The whistle stops, and, after a snort, the train stops.

I look outside through the glass frame with floral motifs in bas-relief.

The dock is quiet. It is an open space without houses. Some areas extend towards the sea with small piers.

I reach the nearest door and get off the train. I turn my back to the forest and let the sea breeze insinuate through my hair and the folds of my dress.

It is very light, but it manages to cover the buzz of chattering teeth, of mimicking voices.

I look around and take a few steps forward. The moldy wood of the dock is different from the charred planks of that distant, familiar place. In any case, walking on the soft carpet of the train is more to my liking.

I look towards the head of the train; a stop has never happened to me.

In the background, there is a mountain. Made of water, a huge dome. Even further away, in the sky, the star.

It would be nice to enclose all that magnificence in something, or maybe not. I do not know, so I look down.

I see the locomotive. The pipes and mufflers vent prismatic smoke, and the elongated body, with the furnace engine, is black, so similar to another machine I knew in the past. No, maybe I will know in the future.

I do not remember, to be honest. But I do not feel like it matters.

From the outside, the locomotive appears very close. I decide to reach it this way.

“Goddess of Hospitality, wait.”

Hmm, what a strange way to call me. It is not about the monkeys.

I turn. I notice a boy with orange cat ears and a snake-headed tail, covered in thick black fur with orange brindles.

“Uhm, G, I wasn't expecting you. It's been a long time. Nice to see you again.”

“The mausoleum is ready; you can go and rest.”

I peer at the Bakenekro with a tender expression. I have not yet managed to make it truly alive. Something is missing from him, even though I did it to the best of my ability. He reminds me of something, but something lost, profoundly different.

But I love him. He is the only company I have besides you: tail. And the monkeys.

“Okay, G. I'll go and rest then. But when we arrive, I want to see the locomotives.”

G bows. His tail curls.

“Of course, as you wish. By the time you arrive, the station will be ready and beautiful. There you will find all the locomotives you want there.”

“The monkeys are approaching the train. Better get back.”

I say goodbye to the Bakenekro and walk towards the golden carriage. It is twice as long as the others and equipped with a clock spire.

I climb the steps, a last glance at the locomotive as it whistles and snorts.

Inside, I find a sanctuary-like nave. The black slabs form two rows. Where I would expect an altar, here is the empty throne. For now, I am allowed to sit. So I do.

The train starts again. Its motion cradles me, chasing every negative thought from my mind.

I close my eyes and lean back softly.

Everything is quiet here; it feels so good. Away from the cold, from narrow and dark spaces.

Now I can also rest. I have been patient for a long time. It is my fair reward.

This universe is ready to exist.

So. We can rest again.

[THE END]