[Prose] Where in the World? [Contest] OVER

[Kelethor]

I wish I didn't suck as short stories. Nonetheless I shall give this ago.

I don't even want any money really, so if I do win, give it to someone else or something.

Though it's doubtful I'll place, I'll start on this tomorrow. It's too late to begin now.  

[Alanora Calaran]

Hmm. Intriguing.

I just have a couple questions: Is there a minimum/maximum word count? Are we able to link to an external site if our entries are longer?

I'm certainly interested.  

[Kelethor]

I don't believe there is a maximum, but the minimum word count is 1,000.  

[Vaporeae]

Oh, yay! I love competitions whee ! I doubt I'll be able to win anything, (I get very wierd ideas) but I'll definately try. It'll be fun ^-^ !  

[Rachetgirl11]

Where do I submit my entries? In this forum? or somewhere else? I think I'll use the second prompt...yes, that would be good. It'll be something good.  

[Stelle Cadenti]

Yeah, just post your entry in this thread, dont't forget to add the word count in the post.  

[Kelethor]

I did a quick word count for you, it's 340. You need a minimum of 1,000.  

[Stelle Cadenti]

It's a start, but definitely not long enough. It needs to be elaborated on, it really just sounds like a description right now. I can't count the first paragraph in the word count either, because those are my words and not yours.  

[Rachetgirl11]

Check. Getting to work. I guess I should have my little warrior enter the Tower and get his a** handed to him a couple of times...  

[Kelethor]

Story removed and replaced.  

[Kelethor]

Rachet, Stelle said she wouldn't count the first paragraph, so when I did my word count I excluded it.

The new word count for your story is 712  

[fallenangel_Asha]

Hey Kelethor, great story! I really enjoyed it. Last thoughts of a dying man, it was wonderful. I really can't come up with the proper words to describe your story, but it was really great.
Mine should be up soon, I'm hoping to finish it this afternoon.  

[fallenangel_Asha]

My Last Train Ride

The train jostled me back and forth across its tracks as I sat there, staring up at the advertisements on the roof. Who in their right mind would put advertisements on the roof of a train? No one looks up at the roof of the train.

“Unless it’s your last train ride,” I whispered quietly to myself.

My body moved slightly to the right as the train slowed dramatically, coming to a stop, my stop. I swayed slightly before returning to stillness. Still, I just sat there staring at those advertisements.

“Excuse me? Miss?” came a soft voice to my right.

It took a moment, but I turned my head away from the ceiling and looked at the speaker. She was a small, grey old woman. She just stood in the open doorway of the train looking at me with that soft smile.

“Pardon me, I thought you had fallen asleep,” she said quietly.

“No,” I answered her. “I was just thinking.”

“Well there’s nothing wrong with that,” she smiled. “But maybe you hadn’t noticed, you usually get off here.”

I looked out the train’s window at the sign for the station. 1st Street, my stop. I lived one street over.

“Not tonight,” I said with a soft smile. “I think I’m going to keep riding for a bit.”

“Why ever would you do that my dear?” she asked with a worried expression.

“Well,” I said with another small, barely there smile, “It’s my last train ride.”

“Oh,” she said, standing up very straight. She nodded her head, mouth set firmly. “Enjoy the rest of your night dear.”

Then she left, and the doors closed behind her. It was nice of her, to understand.

This time my body was pushed to the left as the train began to accelerate again, but this time I never returned to stillness. We, the train and I, just kept on accelerating into the darkness. I reached into my bag and looked at the small plastic vial I had put there this morning.

“It’s better this way,” I said to the advertisements above me. “Who knows when they would come home to find me.”

It didn’t take long for the train around me to fade into the darkness. I just closed my eyes and waited for that heavy feeling that always came with the pills. Soon enough my arms and legs felt like lead weights, and I was sitting in a sea of blackness. But maybe it wasn’t a sea; it was so thick, like velvet. Maybe it wasn’t a sea…maybe it was more of a pudding. A pudding of blackness, a pudding of emptiness.

Then, finally, that melted away too – just like it always does. And once again I was in her room. Those lush, velvet drapes covering the windows – holding the darkness back. Her grandmothers old sofa standing resolutely in place next to the window, upholstered in the same rich burgundy color.

The floor was done in rich mahogany woods, broken only by a cream colored rug in the center of the floor. And there on the rug, she sat.

“Hi mom,” I said quietly as I walked forward.

She glanced up and smiled at me, then she shook her head. ”What are you doing here sweetheart?”

“I missed you,” I said quietly as I walked over and sat down beside her. “I know I promised I wouldn’t come anymore, but I had to see you. This will be the last time.”

“I know what you’re doing,” she said as she moved her head to look into my eyes. “You promised me you would be strong, for yourself. You have so much to live for.”

“I don’t,” I shouted at her, making her flinch. “I’m alone, and I have nothing. Everyone left when you had your accident. We couldn’t stand looking at one another anymore, so now I’m alone. And they took everything. They even sold your things. They sold Grandma’s couch, the rug, your bookcase.”

She looked away from me for a moment and took a deep breath. “You aren’t a lone darling, you never have been,” she said.

She stood and walked towards the massive bookcase across from where we were sitting. It had been a custom piece made for her by her brother, my uncle. He had burned it after she died.

“Come here,” she ordered of me.

I stood and walked towards her, knowing what she was going to say. And when I looked up I saw the love and the worry in her eyes.

“This bookcase is full of our memories together,” she said as she took out a photo book. “You have this bookcase, inside of you. Whenever you needed me, I was always right there. You never had to come here.”

She opened the album and I watched my fifth birthday play out in front of me. Those were happy times, the best of times.

I lunged towards her and wrapped my arms around her.

“It’s not the same,” I cried, tears streaming down my face. “Seeing you in my memories isn’t the same as getting to hold you, getting to talk to you, hearing your voice. It’s not the same!”

She put her hand on my shoulder and shushed me as I sobbed, when I quieted she nodded and pulled away so she could see my face.
“I’m not happy with you, or your decision. But what’s done is done; I can’t very well turn you away now.”

She let me go and walked back to the cream rug where she sat down and opened her book back up. I walked back and lay down beside her, resting my head on her lap.

“Will you read to me?” I asked her quietly as my eyelids grew heavy. “One last time, please?”

“Of course my dear,” she said.

So she started, her soft voice saying again those words that I knew by heart. I smiled as she repeated the story to me, my body growing always heavier.

“I love you, mommy,” I said quietly as her voice went on into the darkness.

“I love you too sweetheart,” she said.

The last thing my consciousness registered was the feel of her lips against my forehead as she kissed me goodnight, just like she used to do. Then my hand fell onto the seat beside me. The room was gone, my mother was gone. There was only my body, the train, and the conductor who would soon find me.

The End

The word count is: 1,085. I used the second prompt. I also really liked the idea of the train, I hope it's not a problem that I kept that part.

 

[Kelethor]

Thanks for the comment on my story. I wasn't going to read the other entries, but I'd feel like I was being rude if I didn't read yours in return.

I liked how it was written more than I liked the plot. That's not saying the plot was bad, it was good for one thousand words, just not my taste. I suppose it's the hwole "Guys are less emotional" thing.

**Spoiler Comment**

God, two stories with suicide, we're going to depress the judges into putting us in last.