Chapter 1: Of Books and Trains
I don't remember much about the day I, err, 'passed'. I don't know exactly why - we sort of go about our lives with the idea that nothing bad's going to happen. We won't deny the fact that bad things do happen - in fact, most people are ready for when they might go wrong - but most people don't worry constantly with every second, wondering if the next person they bump into is going to stab them in the gut or beat them senseless, or perhaps even take them to another world.
Apparently common sense doesn't work like that.
But, then, as my Dad so often liked to remind me, "Common sense isn't common; you learn it." There are a lot of things that my Dad liked to remind me of, although it's probably a better idea to mention them when they become relevant rather than try to list them all at once. That would be rather tiresome and pointless, I think.
Speaking of pointless, it's about time that I explained this situation to you, from the beginning, to the very best of my ability. Ready? Set?
Go.
For the most part of my life, from 5 to 15, I lived in Wales, UK. My hometown area wasn't the prettiest around, nor was it the most friendly and crime-free, but it was home and it had been for nearly all that I could remember.
And the town of Swansea had enough shops to get by on. Sure, it could do with a Krispy Kremes, and according to my sister a Taco Bell, but I had always liked it despite my friends' complaints.
This all ran through my head as I stared blankly at the book I had been reading moments before. For some reason, whenever a book that has a situation similar to my own in it, I can't help but run it through my head the way I would have written it if I was writing my own story. Staring at the book like a zombie for several minutes without turning the page was an unfortunate after-effect.
"Are you actually reading that?"
I spasmed - yes, I'm afraid that spasming is what I do when I 'jump' - at the question, almost dropping the book in my startlement. Catching a hold of it, thankfully, I turned to look down at the girl who had pulled me out of my daydreaming. She had long, dark-brown wavey-curley hair that reached past her shoulders with a peculiar reddish tinge, and was wearing a simple purple Lolita-style dress with lilac ribbon lacing on the left seam of the clothing. She also appeared to be wearing incredibly long leather boots that must have reached her thighs, disappearing beneath the end of the dress. She held an old, tattered book in her hands, the pages yellow and the typed words blotchy and faded. To my embarrassment, she caught me staring.
"What?" she snapped.
"N-nothing," I stuttered in a quiet voice, intimidated by this strangely-clothed girl. I hadn't ever seen a girl in this type of attire in real life - she reminded me of one of the girls in my friend's Lolita-fashion books. I waved the book I'd been 'reading' in her direction, assuming that from her original question that she wanted it. "Here."
She glared at the item as if she had just been insulted, and then glared at me. Her grey eyes meeting my greens gave me a jolt of uncertainty. A part of my mind ruffled its feathers at the look - what did I do to deserve such harsh treatment? - but I ignored it, my automatic politeness leaving me helpless.
"I don't want it."
I couldn't help but feel stupid. "Oh, uh, okay…" my arm automatically turned to the shelf, searching for a gap that the book would fit in. Unnerved by the shorter female, who I glanced at again for a second before turning my gaze to my watch on my left wrist. She had numerous freckles scattered across her cheeks, which aided in her general cuteness and looks. I guessed that she was probably a part of the popular crowd in her school, wherever she went - though I guessed from her accent that she wasn't from around Wales, if even British.
The time read 2.45pm, and, deciding that I'd had enough for one Saturday, I figured that it was about time to catch the train home. Taking one last glance at the girl, who was frowning at her book with a fevered concentration, I started walking and left the book shop, merging into the crowds as one dressed in normal attire would. I couldn't help but think of how the girl I had been speaking to previously would have trouble blending in with her choice of clothes - but then, maybe she didn't want to blend in…
"Hey! Book-shop girl!"
I faltered in my steps, turning to see the dress-clad girl with her old battered book again. I was surprised that we weren't getting any looks from the other people passing us - was it only me who found her clothes strange? Well, not only that, but that she had followed me… I was disconcerted, to say the least. I didn't show that with my reply, however. "Uh, yeah?"
She tucked the book under her arm. "Could you direct me to the nearest… ah…" she scrunched up her mouth, as if unsure of how to pronounce her words. "…Train…station?"
I couldn't bring myself to say no and walk away. I mean, if I was in her position, asking somebody for directions, the worst thing would be if they said now. How could I do that to another person when I'm so scared of it happening to myself? The hitch with this situation was…
"…Yeah. I'm going there now, just follow me."
I would have to take her there personally.
The girl had been all smiles and politeness after that. She had introduced herself with a charming simper, "I'm Symphony. It's… nice to meet you." holding her hand out for a hand shake. I had taken it unsurely, and with an attempted friendly twitch of the lips myself I replied "Call me Elmo."
There hadn't been much dialogue. Although the brunette's demeanour had become more friendly, I could still feel some sort of chill behind her words, and with every question I tried to start a conversation with I was answered with short and uninformative replies. Even longer questions, which invited her to reply without giving me a large amount of information went something like this:
"I don't recognise your accent, Symphony - do you come from Wales?"
"No."
"…Do you live in the UK?"
"No."
"…So where do you come from?" "Tellus."
"Where's that?"
"Several miles North of Algreen."
"…Where's Algreen?"
And then a dry look. Something about this girl just kept making me feel more and more stupid. I couldn't put my finger on it…
By the time we reached the train station, I was feeling like a Neanderthal and Symphony was back into that book of hers, practically nose to the page. I shifted my glasses up my nose slightly and wondered if she was short sighted. I tried to imagine her wearing glasses, but it just didn't seem right to me.
"We're here, by the way." No response. "Symphony?"
She looked up from the book momentarily, glancing around the room, and then to me. "Where's the train?"
I gave her a peculiar look. "Uh, they're trains. Plural. There are four, I don't know where three of them go at around this time…" I trailed off, her facial expression telling me that she really didn't care what I was talking about. I swallowed. "They're through the terminal gates over there," my hand waved in their direction, "Although you'll need a ticket to get through…"
Her expression didn't change. "Well, carry on. Lead the way."
I wasn't sure whether she meant to go through the terminal gates or to lead her to the ticket office, but as I stared at her blankly I decided that I didn't want to ask her myself. All she was doing was lowering my self esteem, which I didn't need at all. I figured that she could stop me if I wasn't doing what she wanted me to do, and that if she didn't and I got through the gates and left her behind that I'd probably be better off. I did what she asked of me, didn't I? I'd brought her to the train station. There. Done. Dusted.
And so I walked to the gates, fishing my orange and white-green ticket from my pocket and pressing it into the ticket slot. The slot pulled my ticket through its system and pushed it back out, the gate opening for me as I retrieved the slip of paper and marched through, only turning around to see what Symphony was doing once I was in front of the timetable posters.
To my surprise she was directly behind me, still following as if nothing had happened. I wondered if she'd already had a train ticket and had just gotten through the gate quickly, or if she had directly followed me and had somehow gotten through before the gate closed. My curiosity getting the better of me, I asked, "Symphony, how-"
She cut me off abruptly. "Don't talk to me!"
I was startled into submission, her snapping upsetting me somewhat. I don't think I had ever met someone who treated another person who had been kind to them in such a way. I was disgruntled and annoyed, and decided to from then on ignore the girl, despite the fact that she continued to follow me to my train and got on behind me, still nose-deep in her book, her eyes only glancing down momentarily to watch where she was going.
Finding the nearest empty seats in the carriage, I sat myself down roughly on the inside part of the chair, effectively taking up both of the seats, sending an obvious 'I don't want you to sit with me' message to my follower.
The motion was ignored, of course. Symphony didn't bother sitting down, nor did she make a move as if to try and take a seat. She just halted once I'd stopped moving and continued to read her book thoroughly, eyebrows furrowed, expression stern and concentrating. I frowned at her - being the sore loser that I was, I was annoyed that she hadn't paid attention to my act of defiance. It's not like I made them very often, she could at least have noticed my hard work.
Turning my attention elsewhere, I stared out of the window. There wasn't anything in particular to look at other than grey concrete. There were some paintings attached to the wall further down the rails, but the carriage was too far back for me to be able to see them without gluing my face to the window.
Once the minutes on the flip-clocks hanging on the ceiling hit 15:09, the train shifted, pushing itself to chug forwards at a pain-staking pace. It sped up slowly, following the rails - a path I knew well. I had been using the train to get to town ever since I found out that it was cheaper and much quicker than the bus. I was fond of trains, despite the stories that my Tadcu* told, with his back-breaking work with steam engines that he did for a living when he was young and my Dad was a boy.
The train was passing over the bridge over the River Tawe when I turned back to glance at Symphony. It was only meant to last a second, but when I saw her she was rigid, her mouth moving as if murmuring something, her body looking unnatural and sharp. I didn't know what was happening, but there was obviously something wrong. I turned in my seat and pushed myself to stand, still staring at her worriedly. "Symphony? Symphony!" she didn't respond to my words, so I stepped forwards, asking "Are you okay? Symphony?"
The train jolted and I stumbled, catching myself on the wall. However, like a statue, the train's jarring had caused Symphony to begin to fall backwards. I reached a hand out to grab her, to save her from hurting herself, but as soon as my fingertips came into contact with her skin she became animated again, shoving me off of her and screaming, "Don't touch me!"
All of the lights went out - phones, lights, even the daylight was blotted out. I could see silhouettes of people carrying on as if nothing was happening. And still, Symphony was falling, and now I was too, and everything was dark and the grumbling of the people and the train were blurring into each other, a deep hum echoing in my ears as I hit the floor.
But then the floor wasn't there anymore and it was just darkness, and I was still falling, and the hum became deeper and deeper, swallowing my senses.
Through the hum I can recall hearing a faint screaming, probably Symphony cursing at me.
Then the hum turned into the sound of waves, and the screaming turned into seagulls calling…
* Tadcu is the Welsh word for Grandad, Ladies and Gentlemen. ~The more you know~
Hello and welcome back to the world of Elmo to those who know/previously knew of me, and welcome to those who have no idea who I am. I haven't written a story for fanfiction for years, and, well, this is my return. I'm hoping that it'll redeem me somewhat for the past unfinished stories that have been deleted. I'm going to continue to write this for as long as there's no reason not to, although I'm not promising tightly-scheduled updates. I'll update when the chapter's finished, as ya do, and try and do better for you than I've done before.
I'm also hopeful that the future chapters will be better and more humorous that this one, but, uh, I can't accurately predict that.
Reviews would be greatly appreciated, as well as helpful tips and maybe a bit of criticism. Flamers will be spoken to politely.
Trolls will have pudding thrown at them.
