The Face of A Boy
The mist that clouded the nearly-deserted train station was pierced by a spot of light in the distance. Fractionally, the light moved forward. The rumbling of the oncoming train increased, making the ground vibrate.
A circle of light lit up the train station as the train slowed down upon reaching the platform. There was a screech of brakes as the train shuddered to a halt. Sparks flew from the wheels. The smell of burnt rubber polluted the fresh morning air. Automatic doors opened with a swish.
As soon as they did, a lone figure emerged from the semi-darkness on the platform. Hesitating, at first, the stranger glanced from one side to the other. Out of the corner of his vision, he noticed a couple of faintly glowing people. He ignored them and, looking back down again, he limped forward and boarded the train. The doors hissed shut. Keeping to the shadows, the passenger made his way down the aisle, checking each compartment as he went. On the right a youngish woman sat, accompanied by an old, bald man. On the stranger's left was a fat, elderly lady whose face closely resembled that of a bloodhound's. Bypassing these people he traipsed on to an empty compartment. Sliding the door open the person entered and, closing the door noiselessly behind him, he sat on the graffiti-covered seat.
Casually glancing out of the scratched window, the stranger settled down, rearranging his cloak so that no one looking in from the hallway of the train would be able to see his face. Looking back to the window, cloudy mist met the eyes that revealed nothing. Those faintly glowing bodies were still there, at the corner of his eyes. Getting bored he closed his eyes and thought.
They'd been following him for as long as he could remember. They had never left him alone not even for a single day. The faeries and sprites that is. As far as he knew, he was the only person who could see them. And what he saw wasn't nice either. At every chance they got they tried to trip you, poke you, pinch you, tickle you. And he couldn't get rid of them. Ever. But maybe…
Since he was old enough to realise what he was seeing, he had always had a half-formed idea about how to get rid of them. But whenever he tried to think about it he could never pin it down. Until a couple of days ago that is. For the past few days he had been doing some serious thinking about how he could escape from the horrific things that the faeries and sprites had done. Faeries in particular. One memory that had stayed in his mind in particular was when he was 7 or 8 years old. There they were. A bunch of faeries but with them was a single sprite. Faeries are no good by themselves. By themselves they are just as cowardly as the next human that comes along. Same with sprites. But this bunch of faeries thought that they were big and tough and were using their longer-than-human nails to gore out the sprite's eyes.
The sight of this had freaked him out but it had always stayed in his memory.
There had always been stories about how faeries were pretty, nice and generous but faeries in real life were the exact opposite. Faeries were ugly, nasty and self-centred. Sprites were a different case though.
Sprites looked beautiful and pleasant but acted completely different. Sprites had a strange ability of persuasion. They could get you to do something that you were totally against and they could do it without even moving their lips.
Why was he able to see them when no one else could?
What was the point of it?
Questions that had been tumbling around in his brain all of his life rose, bubbling, to the top. But there was one question that he wanted an answer to even more than the rest.
How can I get rid of this curse?
Because that's what it was, a curse. Being able to see the horrible and appalling actions of the faeries and the sprites had opened his eyes to the dreadful things done by everybody in the world. Including himself and his closest friends and family. It was time he got rid of the faeries and sprites forever.
A sort of dread wriggled into his stomach. Once they'd realised where he'd gone someone was going to come after him, he knew it. Whether or not it were humans or the faeries and sprites who found him first, it didn't matter. When they found him, it wouldn't be pretty.
Opening his eyes finally, he eyed the door, as if expecting something to happen. When nothing did happen he stood up abruptly. Stumbling, he reached for the compartment door handle. Opening the door with a clang he walked out of the empty compartment, his head low.
He limped past the compartments. All of the people that he had passed earlier were gone, having gotten off the train before him. The lone person continued on.
There was a sudden lurch as the train put on it's brakes. The automatic doors creaked open again. A gust of wind blew through the open doors and into the carriage.
Stepping out onto the platform and off the train carriage, he looked towards the end of the platform where another figure was disembarking the train. As he watched, the figure crouched down on the ground, as if rummaging for something in their bag. The darkness prevented him from seeing the crouched figure properly. He turned to face the platform that was opposite him, glancing down at the train tracks separating them. He turned his gaze to another prick of light in the distance. As he watched it, it grew larger. Another train. He checked to see that the figure who had gotten off the train wasn't watching him. Then he swung his legs over the concrete platform.
Because there were no footholds, he dropped straight down onto the dark train tracks below. Landing on the sharp, jagged rocks below, he crossed the steel rails and stood on one of the concrete planks joining the two metal rails. He didn't look like he was going to move anytime soon.
The distant figure had finally noticed what he was doing. One glance at the fast approaching train was all the figure needed to know.
The figure began running towards the man on the railway track, waving their arms and shouting. The man on the tracks noticed the faeries standing next to the figure. The faeries began to scream while pointing a gnarled, accusing finger at him.
The person on the tracks kept staring straight ahead at the on-coming train. It was only one hundred metres away now. The man's clothes were whipping about his body now as well as his hair.
It was 20 metres away now.
10 metres, and it wasn't slowing down.
The man turned his head slightly. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the figure, a woman, crying out.
Then the wind pulled the hood from the man's head at the last moment and the woman saw his face in the light of the early morning sun and it wasn't the face of a man.
It was the face of a young boy.
It was nearing the middle of the day and Susan looked a wreck. Her make-up was smeared and there were still tear-stains down her cheeks even though she'd stopped crying a while ago. Her grief was beyond tears now.
'Oh, Toby,' she whispered to herself, holding a framed photograph to her chest. 'What have you done to yourself now?'
The photograph was of a boy who looked to be about 12 or 13 years old and was only recent. The boy was happily smiling at the camera while holding another boy in a headlock. A moment frozen in time.
The tears started again and Susan couldn't stop herself this time.
She looked up at a knock on the door and hurriedly wiped her eyes on a sleeve before answering it.
'Excuse me. Is this the house of Susan Kingston?' inquired a police officer gently.
Susan took a step backwards.
'It's about Toby isn't it?' she moaned fearfully, half-crying.
'There's been an accident at the train station. We'd like you to come and have a look.'