A Simple Tune (404 hits)
Category: Science & EnvironmentalRating: 1 on 6 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by Hourman (View user info) at 2008-09-03 09:12:41 EDT
We all wait anxiously on the platform, shifting the weight on our feet, waiting and waiting. The snow patters around us, and there is no coffee, no tea to warm us. Out of the morning fog which acts as a shroud to the world and those above, the train rushes through, carving a path like a knife through butter.
Packed to the rim already they herd us in, repeatedly ordering us to move further into the carriage. Some do not make it on, mothers and daughters, the elderly... they are left behind... and beg with the guards... beg for whatever they can.
When your body is unintentionally rubbing against someone, you can't help but feel awkward. But as the train hurtles towards its destination, the social pariahs of the rubbing, are irrelevant when compared to what lies ahead.
It stops again. As if they intend to create space out of nothing, as if they intend to do away with the seating they have the audacity to call chairs, and simply cram us in until we spill from the windows. Us. That particular person.
The carriage smells... it smells of every walk of life... a sense of unknown... but most of all, it smells of people. Sweat, stale, deodorant, aftershave, soap... it smells like a group of people should. It's normal... almost.
A child starts crying, and people raise their eyes... no one says a word... it's hard enough already without us arguing amongst our selves. No one complains or speaks; we stand and sit in silence, as the train rocks along, as if it's trying to gently coax us to sleep with its violent, rushing lullaby.
Trees and hills disappear... the countryside is all but gone, the ravaged landscape appears as risen concrete, strewn debris and long uncut weed. The chimneys and the redbrick protrude against the sky line, the glint of metal and glass to distant to be noticed.
The looming tunnels approach, more herds of people can be seen even from here.
As the train screeches some stand and some stay seated... most are desperate to breathe, whatever the price; and yet some seem just as content to sit and wait for the guards to tell them to move on.
They inspect the tickets we hold, accounting for us all, god forbid those without. As we race towards the catacombs we know what waits... more trains... more moving... the heat... god the heat... but we cannot stop the inevitable... and like those before us our feet stamp and shuffle to a tune... the tune of the death march.
User Reviews
Submitted by haikumikoo (user info) at 2009-03-04 19:07:00 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
I remember thinking I like you.
I think.
Submitted by orphelia (user info) at 2008-09-05 03:52:07 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
'packed to the rim' made me giggle.
lovely, as per usual, hourman.
post more.
Submitted by TheStitch (user info) at 2008-09-04 12:44:27 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
It's humbling how even though we're oceans and cultures apart, the human experience is still shared ubiquitously through the misery of subway ride during rush hour.
Submitted by F.J.Bell (user info) at 2008-09-03 10:38:14 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
I couldn't help but hum the Great Escape, to stop myself from drowning in the hyperbole.
Submitted by Nellypaal (user info) at 2008-09-03 10:36:03 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Ah, the great British rail system.
Submitted by MudWhistle (user info) at 2008-09-03 09:20:52 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
is this another post about how you know all about women and life?