Thursday, July 5, 2007

Story #10 - Red Line, by Annalee Flower Horne

Today, I present the first story on LOBD not written by myself! Yes, Annalee Flower Horne has submitted a story for your enjoyment. It's a good one, too. Annalee is a talented writer who you should know and revere. Temples are being set up as we speak. She has her own website and livejournal. She is even going to set up an LJ feed for this very blog. Remember: Annalee is GOOD AT EVERYTHING.

And now, her story.

***

Red Line
by Annalee Flower Horne

I wanted to live in the land of bad decisions. In order to live in the land of bad decisions, you have to make some bad decisions.

So I jumped in front of a train.

It didn't kill me.

Which is good, I suppose, because I didn't want to die. I just wanted to jump. I wanted that moment-- that rush of air; that collective gasp from the crowd on the platform; that train's eye view of the tunnel-- that comes between the red hexagonal tiles and the impact.

So I jumped in front of a train.

I don't remember much anymore, but I do remember that moment. I return to it sometimes when I'm drifting off to sleep. I'll probably spend the rest of my life hearing the echo of that perfect, noisy silence.

It didn't kill me, but I lost three months. I didn't recognize the people in my room when I woke up (the nurses called them; something to do with my vitals improving). I knew I should recognize them. I knew they recognized me. I knew they loved me. They'd spent three months holding their breath for me; waiting. And they looked so familiar. Familiar strangers.

I know they were disappointed. Three months of waiting for a stranger to wake up. A stranger who looks the same, and sounds the same, and even likes most of the same things and gets on with most of the same people. But a stranger all the same. They were waiting for someone else-- someone who never got off of that train. I know I'd be disappointed.

I think perhaps I was disappointed before all of this. I think I was disappointed in the way things had turned out. The rat race... the salt mines... whatever we're calling it these days.

So I jumped in front of a train.

Maybe it did kill me. And maybe I was born.

***

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