fragile2.pageI'm watching Dinah again. Watching, always just watching.
Dreaming. Most wouldn't think that I have dreams. Dreams are for little
goody two-shoes wimps like Rusty. I can't help the dreams though, and once
and a while I do have them. I can't help wanting her.
There's something wrong today. I can tell. I can always tell when she's
upset. I know her better than she knows herself. Nobody knows Dinah the
way I do. It's not to hard to know everything Dinah. All you have to do is
watch her night and day, but I guess nobody else has bothered.
I'm not sure, but I think she's crying. Even from a distance, a can see a
few crystalline droplets make shimmering paths down her beautiful face.
Even if she isn't crying, she is. I want her to be crying. I want her to
be sobbing, hysterical.
I close my eyes for a moment. Just a moment, one of those brief, seemingly
endless seconds. I can see so clearly. I can see Greaseball, that jerk,
pushing her down to the floor, hitting her. Hitting her until her sweet
little face is black and blue and dented. Until she's begging him to stop,
and crying like she is now. I find myself laughing softly, very softly. So
softly Dinah wouldn't be able to hear, even if she ever noticed my
existence.
I open my eyes. She didn't hear, she's not looking at me. She never looks
at me. Even when I'm trying to talk to her, she always looks away. Her
face is restored, not a single dent. I've never seen her dented or hurt,
but maybe I'm not close enough. She's even smiling now, as if expecting to
receive some wonderful gift, instead of some worthless ride from her
engine. I want her to notice me. She's upset. I want to make her feel
better.
I laugh again, louder this time. Much louder and much higher, a terrible
sound. Sometimes I can't believe I can make sounds like that. This time
she notices. She definitely notices. She jumps. She's scared, I can tell.
She knows somebody's watching her, and worst of all, she knows that
somebody's me. I go silent, watching appreciatively as she glances
frantically around her, as though mentally debating whether to bolt, or to
wait for her engine. I don't give her a chance to decide though. I want
her to notice me.
"Dinah" I say her name softly, as though it were sacred. Maybe it is.
She's looks towards the bush where I am crouched. The leaves no longer
conceal me. I'm not just watching anymore. She moves nearer, to get a
closer look. She's so close. I can see her every detail; the three black
stripes on her white knee pieces, the ice blue sheen of her legs, the
small shinny adornments that line the edge of her skirt. I can make out
the threads on the laces of her skates, the soft roughness of her tan
wheels. I can smell that wonderful fresh food smell. It's amazing. She's
amazing. She's much to close.
I jump up, suddenly face to face with her, suddenly able to feel her
breath against my face, to look into her eyes. She jumps backwards
quickly, like a frightened rabbit, nearly tripping over her own wheels.
She regains herself quickly though, like I knew she would. She's wonderful
that way. She smiles at me, but it's a tiny smile, a nervous smile, a
disdainful smile. She wants to get away. She thinks she can get away.
"Oh... um.. hi CB." She says quickly, "I didn't see you there." She
smooths down her skirt quickly, running her hands over it several times
before continuing, "I have to go now. I'm supposed to be meeting
Greaseball you know" She gives me one more hesitant glance before turning
down the tracks, skating away. I follow.
"Dinah, look at me." I just want her to look at me, to watch me for once.
She moves a little faster, teasing me, taunting me. Stupid, manipulative,
little b****, teasing the freight trains as usual. I follow her. She moves
faster and faster, until she's running. If she were hitched to an engine,
even a slow one, I wouldn't stand a chance, but as things are I'm gaining
on her. And I'm enjoying the chase! The feeling of exhilaration, the
knowledge that I'm going to win. Unlike some people, I don't need the
Starlight to help me win.
I'm behind her. I grab onto her couplers harshly, pulling her towards me,
making her look. She gasps in pain and fear, looking at me frantically for
a moment before starting to struggle violently. I pull her closer against
me. She's so soft, so fragile. She's scared, poor thing. I never wanted to
scare her.
Still holding tightly to her couplers with one hand, I reach out with the
to gently stroke her cheek, to comfort her.
"It's okay Dinah, it's alright." I soothe, my own voice trembling
uncontrollably. She's so close. "I'm here, I wont let anything happen to
you. I'll keep you safe, I promise" My words come out quickly, on there
own volition, at first merely trickling from my lips, and then raging like
a flooded river. She's quiet for a moment, still, her brown eyes wide and
exquisite "That's right, you're safe now." There is a swift and abrupt
rush of pain up through my finger as she bites it, hard. She renews her
struggle, as I feel red hot rage, redder than my own frame rushing through
me. I take her couplers with both hands moving, moving her foreword. She
tries to escape, but I wont let her. I wont let her, not ever. We're not
moving fast at all. Some things work better with an engine than a coach.
We don't have to go fast, we're moving, and I'm in control.
Part 3
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Dreaming. Most wouldn't think that I have dreams. Dreams are for little
goody two-shoes wimps like Rusty. I can't help the dreams though, and once
and a while I do have them. I can't help wanting her.
There's something wrong today. I can tell. I can always tell when she's
upset. I know her better than she knows herself. Nobody knows Dinah the
way I do. It's not to hard to know everything Dinah. All you have to do is
watch her night and day, but I guess nobody else has bothered.
I'm not sure, but I think she's crying. Even from a distance, a can see a
few crystalline droplets make shimmering paths down her beautiful face.
Even if she isn't crying, she is. I want her to be crying. I want her to
be sobbing, hysterical.
I close my eyes for a moment. Just a moment, one of those brief, seemingly
endless seconds. I can see so clearly. I can see Greaseball, that jerk,
pushing her down to the floor, hitting her. Hitting her until her sweet
little face is black and blue and dented. Until she's begging him to stop,
and crying like she is now. I find myself laughing softly, very softly. So
softly Dinah wouldn't be able to hear, even if she ever noticed my
existence.
I open my eyes. She didn't hear, she's not looking at me. She never looks
at me. Even when I'm trying to talk to her, she always looks away. Her
face is restored, not a single dent. I've never seen her dented or hurt,
but maybe I'm not close enough. She's even smiling now, as if expecting to
receive some wonderful gift, instead of some worthless ride from her
engine. I want her to notice me. She's upset. I want to make her feel
better.
I laugh again, louder this time. Much louder and much higher, a terrible
sound. Sometimes I can't believe I can make sounds like that. This time
she notices. She definitely notices. She jumps. She's scared, I can tell.
She knows somebody's watching her, and worst of all, she knows that
somebody's me. I go silent, watching appreciatively as she glances
frantically around her, as though mentally debating whether to bolt, or to
wait for her engine. I don't give her a chance to decide though. I want
her to notice me.
"Dinah" I say her name softly, as though it were sacred. Maybe it is.
She's looks towards the bush where I am crouched. The leaves no longer
conceal me. I'm not just watching anymore. She moves nearer, to get a
closer look. She's so close. I can see her every detail; the three black
stripes on her white knee pieces, the ice blue sheen of her legs, the
small shinny adornments that line the edge of her skirt. I can make out
the threads on the laces of her skates, the soft roughness of her tan
wheels. I can smell that wonderful fresh food smell. It's amazing. She's
amazing. She's much to close.
I jump up, suddenly face to face with her, suddenly able to feel her
breath against my face, to look into her eyes. She jumps backwards
quickly, like a frightened rabbit, nearly tripping over her own wheels.
She regains herself quickly though, like I knew she would. She's wonderful
that way. She smiles at me, but it's a tiny smile, a nervous smile, a
disdainful smile. She wants to get away. She thinks she can get away.
"Oh... um.. hi CB." She says quickly, "I didn't see you there." She
smooths down her skirt quickly, running her hands over it several times
before continuing, "I have to go now. I'm supposed to be meeting
Greaseball you know" She gives me one more hesitant glance before turning
down the tracks, skating away. I follow.
"Dinah, look at me." I just want her to look at me, to watch me for once.
She moves a little faster, teasing me, taunting me. Stupid, manipulative,
little b****, teasing the freight trains as usual. I follow her. She moves
faster and faster, until she's running. If she were hitched to an engine,
even a slow one, I wouldn't stand a chance, but as things are I'm gaining
on her. And I'm enjoying the chase! The feeling of exhilaration, the
knowledge that I'm going to win. Unlike some people, I don't need the
Starlight to help me win.
I'm behind her. I grab onto her couplers harshly, pulling her towards me,
making her look. She gasps in pain and fear, looking at me frantically for
a moment before starting to struggle violently. I pull her closer against
me. She's so soft, so fragile. She's scared, poor thing. I never wanted to
scare her.
Still holding tightly to her couplers with one hand, I reach out with the
to gently stroke her cheek, to comfort her.
"It's okay Dinah, it's alright." I soothe, my own voice trembling
uncontrollably. She's so close. "I'm here, I wont let anything happen to
you. I'll keep you safe, I promise" My words come out quickly, on there
own volition, at first merely trickling from my lips, and then raging like
a flooded river. She's quiet for a moment, still, her brown eyes wide and
exquisite "That's right, you're safe now." There is a swift and abrupt
rush of pain up through my finger as she bites it, hard. She renews her
struggle, as I feel red hot rage, redder than my own frame rushing through
me. I take her couplers with both hands moving, moving her foreword. She
tries to escape, but I wont let her. I wont let her, not ever. We're not
moving fast at all. Some things work better with an engine than a coach.
We don't have to go fast, we're moving, and I'm in control.
Part 3
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