There was a lonely figure at the back of the bus…
A cool midsummer's breeze crept deftly through the subtle cracks in the window. Outside, the neon street lamps flickered impulsively with a soft murmur as they cast textured pools of light across the ground. The light writhed aimlessly through the night sky, accentuating the shadows as they skirted the wall. These shadows gave birth to the angular shapes that inhabited the ceiling. Naked as they were, the floorboards moaned in a shrill tone that resonated through the airless room. The stifling humidity was beginning to rape the atmosphere and her clammy skin glued itself to the moist bed sheets beneath.
Warm droplets of sweat seeped out of her pores and slowly descended her forehead. It was always the same dream for Lola. Her eyes twitched spontaneously in unison with her fingertips, and quiet cries of anguish echoed off the dry crevices in the lips. Struggling to stem the tide of rising panic, Lola was once again entering the eye of the nightmare, unable to escape the mental prison in which she found herself trapped once more. Guilt can be a powerful beast, an emotion that eats away at the core with relentless abandon. It clouds the mind in a shroud of blackness that never seems to fade.
The date was August 18th, 1994. Lola was ten years of age and just a child still. Despite her youth, she had always felt a sense of duty and closeness towards her baby sister. Chloe suffered from a disorder known as congenital insensitivity to pain. It was rare and essentially meant that Chloe was unable to feel physical pain. It was no super power and rendered her vulnerable to an unpredictable world where imminent danger lurked around every corner. Lola watched over her sister with a loving gaze that rarely blinkered. The heat was more intense than usual that evening and the moon rays beamed off the surface of the lake. Natural splendour encircled the water and the verdant hillside beyond created a beautiful mirror image within its depths. The tranquillity of it all created this peaceful backdrop in which Lola could drift languidly into a hazy sleep. Seconds elapsed like they were minutes and all at once a deafening wailing sound invaded the silence. The fearful cries were not meant for this world, exclaimed in demonically possessed tones of helpless rage. Lola clambered to her feet, still in a disorientated daze. From the sofa she run through the house and into the garden. Her stare was instantly guided to the stone-encrusted shorefront. It was the figure of Lola's Mother, stooping over the waters edge, her limbs smothered in a bloody residue that merged brutally with perspiration and tears. In her gradually weakening embrace was a lifeless corpse, stiff and bloated with the skin now coloured a pale shade of blue. That was the moment that defined Lola's childhood. Her confusion soon replaced itself with a startling realisation of the truth. Her joints seized up mercilessly and life started to cave in, disfigured beyond repair.
Days elapsed and those days turned into weeks. Time was always moving, but the world around her remained in a state of static oblivion, frozen by the shores of that fateful lake. The post mortem results highlighted the painful reality of it all. The sickening truth was not for the faint hearted. Chloe had unintentionally gauged her eyes out with her bare hands. Unable to understand or feel the consequences, she pursued an act of self-mutilation until blood began to ooze from the sockets. Blinded, Chloe wandered progressively nearer to the lake, immersing herself in what would prove to be a watery grave. She was in charge of her sister, how could she just fall asleep like that? Lola hid in her own personal shell, a shadow of her former self. Her life was divided into two halves, the life before, and the life after the incident. Her parents argued every day, unable to deal with such a cruel and savage twist of fate. They seemed to overlook the fact that they still had another daughter, a daughter that was retreating further and further away from sanity. Raped of playfulness and joy, Lola's personality transformed. The vacuum inside her heart was an illness that corrupted her behaviour. She didn't care about her own health any more and she certainly didn't care about those around her. She felt as though she deserved to suffer for the neglectful sins of the past and feel the intense pain that her sister could not experience.
Lola awoke abruptly from the nightmare, momentarily unsure of her surroundings. Lola moved lethargically and watched as the people rushed onto the bus.
Espen Mortensen boarded the bus, slowly and decisively making his way to one of the free spaces. Espen spent his life in the shadows, perceived as an outcast and not meeting the typical stereotypes required to be accepted. Outside, the trees swayed to and fro, and a crisp breeze swirled with synchronicity. The world in which he found himself was quite different from his hometown. Vestfossen was like a quaint slice of picturesque, Norwegian isolation. The pavements were generally empty and the only distinguishable sound was often the unmistakable sound of silence.
He sat reading, completely absorbed within the text. He loved to read, engrossing himself in fantastical tales of magic and adventure. Literature was a soothing reprieve from the harsh realities of the mad world in which he lived. These fictional pages could not attack him like the sharp verbal weaponry of his classmates. Espen was a dreamer. He closed his eyes and imagined a rebirth, a fresh start. He envisioned the joys of an occasional friendly word and the warmth of a reciprocal love. At eighteen years of age, Espen was embarking on a new beginning
Annika Hertzog sat completely still in a trance like state of mind. A wild collection of thoughts fizzed around in her head, and her smile glowed with a refreshing energy. The carefree expression on her face was a testament to the sense of relief she felt deep in her heart. She watched a bird as it soared through the sky and the gilded sun warmed the side of her face with a natural tenderness. Every chalky cloud that ebbed and flowed was symbolic of her escape. An escape from convention and the trials and tribulations forced upon her by society. Annika was seventeen years of age, yet her facial features represented a hidden wisdom far beyond her adolescent years. Her eyes were nothing short of stunning. At first glance they were merely beautiful and upon closer inspection they became hypnotic. In these oceanic eyes seemed to reside an intriguing element of mystery. They were missing that child like innocence one would expect of someone so youthful. Her external features had developed into a façade, protecting her from the many secrets of the past.
Chiara Natoli rushed to the station, exuding that typical Italian passion with every step ventured. She had a heart made of the purest gold and had the enviable gift of making everyone around her happy. In reality, her life was destined to be ordinary, tightly constricted by the subversive culture in which she was born. Despite this expectation that was thrust upon her, she remained free spirited and intensely ambitious.
The city of Chengdu was coming to life, each and every character experiencing life at a rapid pace and with a purposeful vigour. Chiara was a romantic, or as she liked to state: a blossoming rose in the concrete jungle. She was almost nineteen years of age and wanted to see the sights and sample the sounds of the world around. Maybe the artistry of a Parisian evening? Perhaps the natural splendour of an Oriental sunrise? She was young and free, making her first footstep into a future of infinite possibility.
Each individual had his or her own unique reasons for leaving home, everyone linked in some miraculous framework of destiny. The stranger on the train or that figure in your dreams. Some pass us by like ships in the night. Others, they change our lives forever.