Where am I going?

I woke on a train. The smell of strawberry cake kissed my nose. A man of about 30 greeted me. His beard combed into a spear. A white marble table with golden carvings lay in front of me. I straightened on the sofa as soft as a cloud. He offered me a hot cup of tea.

“What is this place?” I said.

“It’s a train,” said the man.

“Yes, I can see that. Where is it going?” I said.

“Who cares?”

“Okay, umm, how am I here?”

“Oh, you woke up here like the rest of us.”

“I know that, but how am I here? Like how did I get here?”

“Who knows!” He waved his hand in the air and grinned.

I stared at him, and he looked at me, taken back. I lifted my eyebrows. “Who knows?”

“Oh, nobody, it was only a figure-of-speech.”

I downed into my seat. “So, you don’t actually know what we are doing here?”

“Have some tea first.”

The tea lubricated my tongue. The sugar, sweet as the nectar from heaven. It hit my mind as I woke for the first time in my life. My lips couldn’t stop drinking. It wasn’t until the sharp sting of the glass hit me that I put the cup down.

“That was….”

“Yeah, that’s what we are doing here?”

“Oh, did you say something?”

“I said this is what we are doing here.”

“Drinking tea?” I scoffed. “I mean the tea was great. But I don’t think I will spend my life drinking tea.”

“No, not drinking tea. I mean enjoying life.”

I looked down not to meet his eyes. After a minute, I said, “So, who made it?”

“What?”

“I mean, who made this train? Someone must have made it.”

“No one made it.”

I chuckled. “Okay, man, stop joking.”

He frowned. “I am not joking.”

“What do you mean? Trains don't just pop out of the sky. Someone or something must have made it.”

He leaned in close, his face as stern as a rock. His stare chained me. He said in a calm voice, “This one did.”

The train shook, and he slid back into his seat. The train seemed lighter than before.

I stood. “I’m leaving. Thanks for the tea.”

I walked to the carriage door and it opened before me. A girl with silver hair walked in. The smell of roses hit me.

“Hey,” she smiled and her teeth glittered. “Where are you going?”

“He’s a new arrival,” said the man. “He’s frustrated that I’m not answering his typical newbie questions.”

“I know the train master,” a man’s voice came from behind the girl.

“You know he is?” I took a step forward, but the girl blocked me.

“The train-master is a woman.”

“Umm, okay.”

The man behind her scoffed.

“Yeah, and she died," she said.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

“What? When?”

“She just did.”

“And how do you know that?”

“I, uh….”

If I weren’t on an unknown train, travelling who knows where I would never push such a beauty aside, but I needed my answers. The man wore a black thobe and a weird triangle necklace.

“Woo, you are not the Illuminati, are you?”

“He might be,” said the woman. “All of these men are trying to control us.”

“Do you know where’s the train or how am I here?” I asked.

“No, but I know where the train master is.”

“Where?”

“Just go straight ahead. He is in the engine room.”

The woman grabbed my hand. “Stay, you have everything here.”

For a moment I wanted to stay. The smell of roses lingered in my nose. Her glimmering pulled me close. What kind of bimbo life will that be? Knowing nothing but to eat, drink and sleep. I pushed her hand away and entered the other carriage. The train shook again, and the carriage broke from the train. It’s breaks screeched and hammers beat on my heart. The man pushed me to the other carriage. I looked back as it faded into the distance. My heart beat so hard like it was right next to my ears.

I went from one carriage to another. What surprised me the most was how settled they were. People scrapped the metal from the walls and made houses for themselves. They broke the lights which lit up the whole carriage and routed power to their makeshift cabins. But it didn’t light their whole house still. They only thought within the confines of the train as if they a whole another didn’t flash from the windows. Their dreams and aspirations were limited to their journey. Some wondered about the world outside, but they whispered this to me. Eyes turned toward me whenever I asked such questions. The people frowned and some scoffed. Some gave me the stare of the man I woke beside. I soon discovered that talking about the outside world is considered superstition.

Some told me of ticket master. They would come and remind the people of the rules and regulations. The right hand of the train-master. But some claimed that they lied.

“We don't need them. They told us to believe in non-sensical things,” a man told me. “That this train is the sole property of one person! Can you believe that?”

“Umm, kinda, trains aren’t typically owned by its passengers.”

“We are passengers. This is our home.”

“I get that. But this train must be going somewhere.”

“No, it's just roaming around randomly in space.”

“Yeah, right.”

“They told us that we must use our food scarcely. Because the journey is long and when we stop. We will have immediate food.”

“So, are you storing your food?”

“No, there is no stop.”

“Where are they? I need to talk to them.”

“Oh, we killed them all.”

“What? Are you stupid?”

“Hey, we are the peace-makers here. Besides they knew nothing of value.”

“And you do?”

In return, I only received a frown, and curses and was called delusional.

The train took a life of its own. They called themselves Native Passengers. It’s funny how they considered themselves natives but also as mere passengers. I only understood the passenger part when I entered the cabin adorned in gold, and covered with carpet. A nice old lady greeted me and offered me tea. The train shook, and a distinct ting echoed. I ran toward the door and jumped, but the old lady wasn't so lucky. The wind roared, and the carriage broke free. The screech of its breaks mixed with the old lady's cry bled my ears. My bones vibrated as the carriages rolled and shattered into pieces. The darkness ate as soon as it separated, and all the noise came to utter silence.

Finally, I stepped into the last carriage. People sat on the floor. Each family of four or five ate from the same plate. They ate brown bread with water. They ate only enough to sustain themselves for the next day. I leaned close to a man.

“Ah, you must be the new arrival traveller,” he said.

“You know me?”

“You made quite a reputation for yourself.”

“Why are you eating so little? The rest of the train seem to be in quite good shape.”

He pointed to the door to the next carriage. “You will get all your answers there.”

He stood but my eyes glanced at his nametag. “Ticket master Oliver.”

I opened the door and finally, entered the engine room.

“So, you are the train master?”

The man turned. “Yes, and you must be the new arrival.”

“Do you know where the train going?”

“Yes.”

“Ah, thank god.”

“There is a place among the mountains. It is safe and has food and water.”

“How did I get here?”

“I don’t know.”

“Why?”

“I am the train-master. I don’t know everything.”

“Make sense. Make sense.”

“Any other questions? I have work to do.” He pushed a button and the train shook. The surroundings blurred more.

“Why me? Why take me here.”

“Docter Savana, deem you worthy to be saved.”

“But still what did he see in me?”

“Un-important.”

“I’m the one asking the questions.”

“You will not decide what is important. What you need to know is how to complete this journey most optimally.”

“I will live as I see fit.”

“Then perhaps you should go back.” He pushed another button. Again the train shook and then sped up.

“What are you doing?”

“I don’t think you have the intellect to understand.”

My eyes widened and I ran to the window. Two carriages were left behind. I narrowed my eyes and a bunch of carriages lay behind them.

“What are you doing?”

“They are slowing down the train. This train doesn’t have enough fuel food or water to prolong this journey any longer.”

“So, you are going to kill them?”

“They choose this. There were no passengers on this train. Every man and woman was meant to be a worker. They ignored their duties.”

“But you can’t leave them behind.”

“They don’t want this journey to end. They want to live in enteral bliss. To exploit endlessly while others do their work.” He pushed another button and the train shook.

“Stop it!”

“The destination is not for them. It is only for those who follow orders and want to reach a place.” He pressed a bunch more buttons until only one carriage left.

The cries of the lady rang in my ears.

I ran toward him, and we rolled on the ground until the tick-masters came. They grabbed me and I cried as he pressed the last button.

The last carriage detached with a clang. Its brakes squeaked as we left it behind in the dark forest. Its people put their heads out of the window and shouted as the train faded into their distance. Their cries and shouts rang in my ears.

In the end, it was not righteousness that decided their fate, but violence.