A Fiction: Part I

I've been toying with the idea of writing a fiction. I've spent the last few days putting a sweeping epic story arc together. This will take a while to complete. Perhaps all summer, perhaps a year or more. That being said, here's part one...

PROLOGUE:

FINALE

The train is late today. It’s an hour past when it was scheduled to arrive. When I asked the woman in the graffiti covered and urine-odored booth what was going on, she dismissed me by saying, “You’ll have to wait like everyone else.” So I am.

I’ve always believed you can know a person by observing how they behave while waiting on a platform for a late train; the man who continuously checks his phone for either the time or missed calls and messages, the old woman who sits on the bench and knits, and the vomit-stained , clearly homeless and mentally disturbed man who mutters under his breath and pretends not to stare at the pretty young girl in front of him. I know these people as well as I know myself. And I know myself implicitly.

I am a simple man. I have no aspirations for wealth or fame or power. I just wish to work hard and earn enough to comfortably survive, nothing more. I do not judge people, merely observe and learn. I am a generous lover, finding more satisfaction in the pleasure I give than receive. I am faithful and dedicated, in work and relationships. I am sometimes distractible in that I have dreams beyond my day-to-day. I often dream of long voyages at sea. The honest hard work and sense of accomplishment in surviving the elements and the challenges of maintaining peaceful comradery in confined spaces.

I can hear the train approaching as my companions on the platform begin to gather their things. I have but one bag slung over my shoulder that contains some papers I owed my supervisor two days ago. I avoided him yesterday, but today I must own up to the fact that the deadline was missed. I board the train and it pulls away with a huff. The lights flicker and a tinny voice apologizes for the delay.

I watch the ever changing messages and adverts that scroll through each of the mounted screens on the walls of the train. The one closest to me has been cracked and displays nothing. But screens are plentiful enough that I can clearly read the next one down.

BUY LOCAL. WHAT YOU SPEND RETURNS TO YOU.

That’s a fucked up notion… Well, it’s a fucked up world. I observe the other glossy eyed passengers gaze at the screen and wonder if they believe what they read without question.

The train is coming up on my stop. I can see the clock mounted over the platform and realize that not only is my deadline missed, but I will be late for work as well. Ah, well. My supervisor is a busy man and most likely will not mention my lateness. I’d better speed up so maybe he won’t notice at all.