Train Spirits

I am on vacation. I need to let my spirit roam far away from home. See new places, ride new trains, meet new faces, and hear new stories. I love stories. A good story can make my heart smile. What is a good story? I guess it differs from train to train. For some humans, a good story is winning the lottery, hitting the jackpot, ruling into a great inheritance or just finding that huge bag of money.

In my book, a good story is about rewards. It begins with hard human sweat, and tough, rugged muscles, drained by the swing of the daily chores. The plot is wounded around every little victory, every step advanced, and every battle won. The triumph comes to its greatness when the underlying objective is achieved. Vacations are good for the soul and spirit, or so they say. I am riding an old train tonight. Nothing like the carpeted, soft cushioned coaches that I am used to. These seats are made of tough fiber supported by heavy metal poles. Some of them are torn, and worn out, and still others are full of holes – some so big that the little children could possibly fall through.

The wheels are still made of steel and the engine makes more noise than the horns. Everyone knows we are coming and no one gets killed in an accident. Maybe a plus for these overburdened fellows.

She sits across from me. She is a fat lady with two dimples below her lower lips. She is a cherry red lipstick lover, carrying them in all flavors. She wears a long black dress with a thick belt in the middle. Her stomach is tucked in and she appears slim there in the middle.

I like her perfume, reminds me of France, was she like those femme fatale, or just a lover of the odors? She pulled out a second red lipstick and opened her purse mirror. She applied another layer, even though it was already very red. Her cell rings. She glanced around, answered, and listened for a while.

“How much is he asking?” she touches her eyebrows.
“Nay..the kid’s very skinny, I would go around 35. That’s my final. Call me back if you like it. Oh, and by the way tell Sam not to send me sick kids. Last one cost me a fortune.” She hung up and got back to her lips.

I pulled my cloak closer, it was getting chilly. Old lipstick fatty didn’t seem to notice. I repeated to myself, you are on vacation. Was some kid in trouble? Better change coach.

The phone rings again. This time she drops the little mirror. “What do you mean that it’s dead? Do you know how much money I spent on that little sucker? I couldn’t care less. Get the boat and clean up the mess. Don’t be calling me back with bad news or else, no pay, you heard me, no pay!”

She closed the call and dumped the phone on the seat. It banged and clattered like an old pot. She opened her purse, pulled out a handkerchief, and wiped her brow. “Useless idiots, can’t even take care of a little kid. No money, ain’t paying them one red cent.”

Note to self, you are on vacation. How did that kid die and why is she so upset? Was she trafficking kids? My heart pounded, my spirit heated up and if I had a temperature, it would have passed boiling point.

The phone rang again. She delayed, looking at it, letting it ring. She finally answered. “What is it that couldn’t wait? Didn’t I tell you to use the boat? What cops? Who cares about the cops? Should I get someone else to take care of my business, Monty?”

She listened for a while. A tear rolled down her cheek. I held my claws, though I could feel them sliding out slowly. My fangs rubbed against my tongue, and the thirst rose in my stomach.

“Tell Dad that it’s ok. Let me call you back, have another call online.” She hung up and started the other call.
“Go ahead Sam, I am listening.” She sat upright, pulled a pen from her purse, and scribbled on her handkerchief.

“Two boys, one teenage girl.. how old is she, seventeen, that is not a teenage girl, that is a woman. I only do them up to fifteen, Sam, you know that…pregnant, oh boy is she a messy one. How many months, .. seven months, she could die on that trip. Listen, Sam, are they ill, any disease,…uh, asthma, and the other boy? Ok.. Good. So… hmm..Okay will be there in half an hour. Get them ready for boarding.”

As she hung up, I transformed. My fangs were already too extended for me to control them. My claws slid out like those of a cat and she saw me. She dropped the phone and her hands flew to her mouth. She screamed and screamed again.

She rushed for the passageway and I pulled her back into her seat. She lounged at me, taking me completely off guard. She fell on the couch seat across from her, hitting her knees on the metal bar, and her stomach on the edge of the seat.

It dawned on ger then that I was spirit form and sat up quickly. She groaned as she rubbed her knees. I took her hand but she wrung free of my grasp. I tried to float through her but she crossed her hand and blocked my progress.
I have been doing this for centuries now and no one has fought back. They were mostly afraid or were happy to see my other forms. I transformed there and then into death itself.

I was hoping to find the other guy, this Sam, but this fat woman was able to block me. How was she doing it, I had no clue. Yet I was determined to rescue those children. The black, cloudy shroud of death and the ice-cold temperature that I brought was enough to freeze any heart. She was clutching hers now as she felt the presence of my claws over her soul. She looked at me and held my gaze without moving her eyes.

She inhaled deeply and as if she could expel me from her soul, exhaled forcefully. I reached her thoughts, just had to be sure before I yanked her soul out and dangled it over the flames. She kept up the fight trying to block my entrance, but she couldn’t, even if she wanted to.

Once I become death, there is no way back. No one was able to resist.

I searched her mind, rushing through memory lane. I saw her birthday when her mother abandoned her on a hospital bed and her father raised her alone. I paused in her childhood as she defended the weaker girls and boys from big bullies, and saw when she got her spurs handed to her in a dark lane.

I found the day when she graduated from the university, the same day that she shot her math professor three times with his own gun after he tried to rape her. I gulped as I saw her rescue Sam and four little boys on the Miami beach shore.

I saw her father helping her to raise money on the beachfront for her children, who were too many for anyone alone until she married Sam’s brother Mikey. I felt my soul aching, and my strength waning. What had I done?

I watched as she fought the hospital doctors to help a little boy whom they thought was a goner. How she stayed by his side all day and all night, for three days, without going home or taking a shower.  I saw as her brother gave her the sad news that the boy had died. I hugged her soul as the tears rolled down my cheek. I couldn’t scream. I just floated upward with her, trembling like a wreck and dying inside me.

I did not give her over to the gate receiver, I rolled ahead. I did not let her reach the welcome choir, I floated higher. I passed the hidden stairway, the stones of fire, and landed firmly before the throne.

“Welcome my son, I heard you were on vacation. I see you have found your calling in Liliput. Was she that evil?”
I was still crying and knew He could read my thoughts, but I had to wish it and say it out loud. “Father, I made an error. Is there any way…..” He waved His hands in silence. He smiled at me.

“I hope you have learned a good lesson about the Liliput Train. I will station you there for a while, I would love to say vacation, but you are so much a lover of children that it won’t last more than a day. Now, you have done an excellent job. Go help this earth angel. Take her back to her train and her kids, those you love.”

I frogged leaped onto the train, there were just ten minutes before she would meet with Sam and the new kids. Tonight she saw me again. But as a friendly angel ready to help. I left her the memory of the struggle with me. She was glad to have me, knowing that someone else was protecting her children.