Thrumps smiled. He had no idea what was going on behind the curtain but it reminded him of his childhood. Once a year he would be whisked away to an adventure, sometimes by the seaside, or to the mountains or to explore a big city. The orphanage was very proud of the fact that they never failed to raise enough money throughout the year for this to happen, and it was one of the few times that everyone could forget about the hardships and focus on having fun. Taking his usual seat at his desk, he found that he was in an ornate booking office. The sign above the counter read, The Emporium Express.
There was a great throng of people crowding the foyer, with many more waiting impatiently outside the main doors. The tellers were working non-stop to issue tickets and direct people to the waiting room, which was just off to the left, where the guard at the door, checked the details carefully before allowing any admissions. Once inside they took whatever seats were available and waited patiently. Thrumps watched, totally fascinated as if on cue various individuals or groups eagerly walked down the long corridor at the far end, until they were lost from sight.
“Sir,” a young ticket clerk said, placing a hand lightly on his arm. He smiled encouragement for her to continue. “The train is about ready to leave, do you wish to travel this time?”
He hadn’t the faintest idea. A thousand and one questions vied for attention but none of them could get themselves together to actually be asked.
“When did I last travel?” He asked, hoping he might gleam some kind of insight into what was going on. The clerk thought about it, taking maybe just a little too long.
“I’m not sure,” she began cautiously. “This is the first time we have been at this destination so this is the first train that has ever left from here. Have you been with us before?” There was doubt in her tone.
Thrumps shook his head. “When was the last time you were here?” He asked.
She brightened, relieved to have a question that she had the answer to.
“Never,” she laughed.
The Emporium was always a little strange to put it mildly but this time it seemed even stranger.
“Do I need a ticket?” Thrumps asked.
Instantly she held out a permit beautifully inscribed with the words, Circular Route … one way.
The doorman doffed his cap as he held the door open, instructing Thrumps that he was to go straight through and down the corridor. He did as he was told and just around the corner, out of sight was a grimy station, smoke billowing out of funnels as the steam train was being stoked up prior to departure.
The guard nodded. “We have been expecting you.” He said reverently.
Thrumps tapped his cane on the metal step, it sounded real enough. Taking advantage of the arm that was proffered to aid people up the steep steps, Thrumps couldn’t help but wonder what exactly he was doing here.
The sound of the whistle took him straight back to his childhood. He had so wanted to drive the engine, to shovel coal into the fire and most of all pull the cord that made the train sing. Maybe he’d be able to this time, after all it was his train, well sort of.
Very slowly the huge mass crept forward, almost sluggishly as if it didn’t really want to leave, but as it accepted the inevitable it seemed to happily gather speed. The sound was like no other, instantly recognisable to anyone that has been lucky enough to ride a steam locomotive.
A young girl beckoned him to come sit next to her, she was beyond excitement.
“I can’t believe that I’m really here,” she gushed.
“Where are you going?” Thrumps asked, taking an empty seat.
“To dreamland,” she said as if that was all that was required.
“We’re all going,” a young man chipped in from the opposite side of the carriage. Everybody was laughing and chattering incessantly.
“Tickets please,” The inspector said in a loud curt voice as he made his way down the aisle. Putting a notch in each, he warmly bid them a safe onward journey. When he came to Thrumps he saluted.
“It’s a pleasure to have you aboard, sir.” He announced.
“By chance …” Thrumps replied. “Do you know the history of this train?” He emphasised the ‘you’ bit as it he was simply questioning the guard’s knowledge and not fishing for explanations.
“This is the direct line to the destination of dreams.” He began and then taking a deep breath rattled off the sales pitch.
Once in a lifetime, there is an opportunity to not just re-live your favourite dream, but to become part of it forever.
“We have all sorts here,” he continued in a whisper. “There are those that dream of being rich and some want to be reunited with loved-ones that have departed the real world and live with them forever in limbo until it is their time to join for real. Others are out for revenge.” He sighed.
“No matter what they long for, most leave behind others that just do not understand. They are the ones that pay the price of these tickets and so suffer at the hands of those they thought cared about them.”
Thumps looked around the car, there were not that many here really but enough that their leaving would have a big impact back in the real world.
“Everything always has a consequence,” he said sadly.
The guard nodded and continued on his way.
As the train stopped at each chosen destination one of the lights went out, until everything was plunged into pitch black as the last person departed.
Jolting awake, Thrumps at first wondered if all that, had simply been a dream, but there lying on the green blotter was the beautifully engraved permit. The printed words Circular Route … one way, had been over-stamped with … Final Destination Unknown.