A nice train ride

The lights flickered and flashed, streaking along the window. The occasional spark from the track would light up the area and objects around the train like flashes from a camera, while the near-deafening, roaring of the wheels echo throughout the interior of the subway car, indicate we were really moving. It was chilly inside the of the train car, but even though I was sitting, I was beginning to sweat. It is my first Subway ride and everything, at first, seemed normal. But, as I looked at the other car behind mine, I couldn’t help but wonder “How it could possibly be moving up and down as much as it was. Isn’t it connected to my car? Shouldn’t it be moving relative to mine?” Pondering this brought a bead of sweat, down my cheek and eerie thoughts into my head. I kept thinking “What if…what if that meant that the car was coming loose…and the passengers had no idea of their impending doom?”

I could envision it all in my head. Watching the dull and bored tones of their faces turn to complete and utter fear, as the train car suddenly shifts, bouncing up wildly from the ricochet of the wheels upon the track. The train slams down, merely a moment later, with the weight of itself digging into the wooden trusses as it twists from the force and imbalance, pulling the rear of the car up, dislodging it from the car behind it. By this time, more than half of the passengers themselves have been dislodged from their seats and are being whipped into the air, some barely getting out their screams; others from the impact or shock, have gone completely silent.

There was an old man, at the front of the car however, remained still and had no reaction to the ruckus…for he had already passed away. He left silently, just minutes before the last stop, while people entered and left, presuming he was merely asleep. He had sat quietly, not bothering anyone, as people came and left the train, keeping to himself and letting the train gently rumble him to sleep. Come the time of the crash, he felt nothing, having already made his final departure…he was lucky, and though he may have lead a long and possibly unfruitful life (as was evident by his clothing and the dirt on his hands and face), he would become the subconscious point of envy from, at least, a few fellow passengers, who may have never even considered giving him the time of day, until that point.

As the car juts sideways, still amazingly centered along the track, the following cars, given their weight, continued on, moving with much the same speed as before, slam into and through the middle of the tumbling car, splitting it like a toothpick in the nervous hands of a newly former smoker. Two sad passengers are crushed from the impact before they even had a chance to realize it. A college girl, on the floor in the back, watches as the slick, dark haired dream boy she had been admiring for the last 3 stops, is ground into a messy oblivion as the seat beside him folds around his torso and is flattened from the force of the oncoming car. The splatter was horrific, but would prove to be too quick for much notice from any of the passengers, as their attention shifted and scattered amongst the event.

As the car falls into pieces, two major sections are pulled away from one another. What used to be the front of the car now rolls over, again and again, releasing two more passengers from the car and hurling them to the ground, outside. It slides down the hill, to the left of the track and slams itself into the wall of a small bar. The other half rolls over only once more, skids and deafeningly screeches along the separate set of tracks, moving along a couple of hundred feet, all while retaining its passengers. The first half, now embedded into the crumbling wall and inner bar, killed the bartender and two patrons upon entry, crushing them with a calamity of metal and brick. Lights flicker as the failing electrical system of the building begins to spark to life a fire from multitude of broken bottles of liquor, surrounding the crash. Within minutes, the whole building would be engulfed in flames…an inferno that would soon spread to and through the rest of the block, consuming store after store and some of the apartments above.

By this time, the other half of the car has finally come to a stop. Lying with the open hull facing forward along the tracks, shreds of metal hang and swing amongst of a shower of sparks and smoke. All whom remained conscious or alive were the college girl, a middle aged business woman and a younger man, who himself was obviously part of a gang or wanting to be so, covered in tattoos and the typical loose, “gangsta” clothing; rap music could be heard blaring through his earphones. The College girl was still laying down against the side wall, between two sets of windows, with tears running down her cheeks. As her tears gathered the dark makeup around her eyes and traces of black would streak down, closely resembling the paint on a mime’s eyes. And yet, it’s amazing how vanity still exists in such dire scenarios, when all that is left of her slick-haired, dream boy was a pair of legs and shoes, but the last thing to enter the college girls’ mind was “What is wrong with men and their shoes? Those are just awful!” as she now gazed upon the tattered shoes, with a ripped sole and hole in the toe.

The business woman clutched the seat and rail in front of her. She is utterly disorientated, crying, screaming between gasps of breath. Her knees are wobbling and loose, like two strands of wet spaghetti trying to support a 1lb. meatball. And through her confusion, she is unaware she is trying to stand up on a window. The window, which was already suffering from the stress of the crash, pops, cracks and finally, succumbs to the weight of the woman. And though, only a few inches from the ground outside, the force at which she falls through is enough to snap her ankle. As she falls forward, the glass from the remaining window slices through her leg and before she can grab a hold of the rail again, her head comes down with such speed that she is unable to prevent it from slamming into the support along the seat. Her screaming is suddenly halted from the impact and loss of consciousness. Even if help were to arrive, she would bleed out within mere minutes, from the gash in her leg.

The “Gangsta” had rolled himself up behind the rear divider, near the back door, in a fetal position. Relatively unscathed, he emerges from behind the divider and peers out toward the open hull and tracks, squinting through the smoke and guarding his eyes from the sparks. Even though he hasn’t suffered much injury, he is quite shaken and doesn’t yet know what is going on. He stands there, time feels to him as though it has stopped, peering out across what was left of the train in sheer amazement, coughing and shivering…the loud thumping of his music was still apparent.

At this point a strong, pair of lights begins to emerge from around the bend of tracks and are obviously, moving at a quick pace. It was another train car, barreling forward along the same set of tracks the crashing train had come to a halt on, with the conductor completely unaware of the accident. Following the lights, bright sparks from all of the cars suddenly appear, filling the air with what looks to be fireflies moving along the length of the cars. The conductor had pulled the emergency brakes, but was all too aware that he was too late and proceeded to open his door, yell at his passengers and run towards the back of his car to attempt entry to the next car. Many of the passengers would not be able to hear him though, over the immense noise of metal scraping across metal, from the stalled wheels along the track and the confusion of being suddenly jolted forward by the train attempting to stop.

The “Gangsta,” his wide eyes now noticing the oncoming train, reaches down to grab the college girl, shouting at her to get up, but she swats him away, still full of tears, screaming and unaware of the next impending doom. He frantically tries to pull her up, slipping on the metal walls of the side and roof of the car, that were all painted in various bodily fluids from the initial crash, but she continues to fight him off. Finally, after what would only a moment of struggle, he gives up, turns around and runs towards the back door, saying “All right then, fuck you!” and attempts to open the door. He manages to slide the door open, but struggles to lift himself out, wasting the precious little time that he had left and upon setting his feet down upon the track, he loses his balance, falls forward and lands on the exposed 3rd rail…a loud snap, followed by a sizzle, promptly ends the rap music.

The college girl, now realizing what is happening, just screams as loudly as possible, struggles to stand up, and freezes as the approaching car rips through the open hull, crushing the completely weakened car. The wreckage is pushed back along the track were the “Gangsta” lie recently dead from electrocution and is obliterated from the car scraping along the rail. The business woman would never have known what happened, blissfully unconscious with four of the other passengers strewn about the cabin.

I snap out of my day dream, as my train car screeches to its stop. “Now stopping, Market Square.” The conductor’s voice scratches and distorts over the intercom. I grab my bag, stand up and exit the doors as they wobble open. Back on to solid land, it feels remarkably refreshing. Time to switch trains!

A nice train ride

krazyredboy

Seaside, United States

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Artist's Description

This was inspired after my first Subway ride, while in Chicago.

Artwork Comments

  • Ann  Warrenton
  • krazyredboy
  • Ann  Warrenton
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