Quoted By: >>33938508
It's late afternoon by the time you and your squabbling siblings have finished your meals. The leaf-filtered sunlight and warm forest air combine with your full stomachs and fuller afternoon, and it isn't long at all before you've all curled and compressed yourselves as best you can, drifting off to sleep surrounded by family high in the trees.
You're standing at the terminal again, the cool breeze mussing your shortened hair, snatching at the strands and carrying it into your eyes. The electronic sign blinks above you, displaying the tine for anyone who cares to look. 5:45. And as you look across the tracks, bending out to see the incoming train, your breath catches and a chill not at all from the weather slides through your veins. You can see yourself, your human self, standing idly at the edge of the platform, loose windbreaker wrapped around her shoulders and pulled tight to keep out the chill. Her hand delves into her pocket and flips free with a phone, a message from a close friend bringing a smile to her face.
The nearing trains horn calls through the evening air, and she looks up, sliding the phone back into her jeans, hiking a bag further up her back with a free hand. You try yelling, catching her attention, but she's facing the train. A dark mist is rolling into the station, the distant glare of a solitary light rushing ever closer.
You're screaming now, throat hoarse. The crowd is shuffling closer, blocking your efforts as you frantically try to reach the doomed woman. You shove and sob, throwing the shadows of people out of your way as you try to reach through the crush of human bodies. 5:47. You can't even form a warning, choked gasps drawing air through your ravaged throat. Your fingers close on your windbreaker at the last second, but the slick material slides through your grasp as she pitches of the platform into the howling light.
You have a perfect view of the last expression she will ever make before the light consumes every thought.
You're standing at the terminal again, the cool breeze mussing your shortened hair, snatching at the strands and carrying it into your eyes. The electronic sign blinks above you, displaying the tine for anyone who cares to look. 5:45. And as you look across the tracks, bending out to see the incoming train, your breath catches and a chill not at all from the weather slides through your veins. You can see yourself, your human self, standing idly at the edge of the platform, loose windbreaker wrapped around her shoulders and pulled tight to keep out the chill. Her hand delves into her pocket and flips free with a phone, a message from a close friend bringing a smile to her face.
The nearing trains horn calls through the evening air, and she looks up, sliding the phone back into her jeans, hiking a bag further up her back with a free hand. You try yelling, catching her attention, but she's facing the train. A dark mist is rolling into the station, the distant glare of a solitary light rushing ever closer.
You're screaming now, throat hoarse. The crowd is shuffling closer, blocking your efforts as you frantically try to reach the doomed woman. You shove and sob, throwing the shadows of people out of your way as you try to reach through the crush of human bodies. 5:47. You can't even form a warning, choked gasps drawing air through your ravaged throat. Your fingers close on your windbreaker at the last second, but the slick material slides through your grasp as she pitches of the platform into the howling light.
You have a perfect view of the last expression she will ever make before the light consumes every thought.
