Alyssa Yee

Alyssa’s composition is a piece of independent writing that explores the symbolism of a train within the inner world of her protagonist.

VIGNETTE

…So she closed her eyes. The steady rhythm of the wheels rumbling against the tracks soothed her trembling heart, a calming presence in the face of the infinitely more daunting prospect of never turning back. To stare ahead was like signing off the deed to the locked backrooms of her brain, without pausing to read the terms and conditions. Ironic, really, seeing as the train seats faced sideways. Nothing was ever simple. If only she was as good at solving riddles as her life was at writing them.

“I hope you charge rent to the people inside your head,” an echo of the past that never failed to break all her resolve. Had the train stopped right then and there, forever stranded on the tracks, she wouldn’t a care in the world. The memory was bleached colourless through overuse, but it was far more powerful than she could ever hope to articulate.

A small grin, hardly visible but there nonetheless, crept upon her rose-tinted cheekbones, sleeker than glass shards but struggling under the weight of the tiredness evident in her pale grey eyes. Because there was that fuzzy feeling again. So strong it was almost suffocating. It felt like a delicate kiss and tasted like warm cocoa. For all the things she wished to escape, that memory was not one of them.

But fairy tales were for little girls, and she was not so lucky now.

Were the moon not concealed, perhaps she would have hidden her memories in one of its craters. Save herself from the heartache of having to let go by pretending she could have it all.

Relaxing her back into the sturdy yet comforting chair, cherishing the familiarity of its frame in all its gum-ridden glory, she watched idly as people shuffled from platform to carriage and back again.

There were the upstate girls with their misdirected smiles, the kind that refused to slink delicate fingers around the metal handrails for fear of breaking a nail, travelling with the wind without stopping to appreciate the view. The small children with bright smiles upon silent faces were unassuming at first glance, but their eyes held the threads of a thousand stories yet to be told. Then there were the businessmen in their suits, of fine pressed pleats and brightly shined brogues. She didn’t like them. They didn’t understand the beauty of the journey, they only focused on the destination.

Slipping her eyes shut, as the carriage quietened, all alone. There was something so peaceful about not knowing the destination. With no time to worry about wasting, and no one relying on you at the other end.

When she opened her eyes, everyone was gone.

But there was a light at the end of the tunnel. And as the thrum of the wheels on the track beat on, it was like a gentle reminder that she was not alone in spite of the empty carriage.