Endless

A piercing whistle echoed throughout the station. Columns of smoke were being pumped out of the train as it boarded. People looked down at their tickets and either sat back down with a sigh or stood up to wait anxiously. Snow drifted silently down, white parachutes extending out in the draft. Checking his number, the boy clenched the railing as he stepped on board. People were muttering quietly around him as he shuffled past. The yellow lighting picked at his eyes, casting harsh glares. He had a hard time looking directly at the painted numbers above the seats. Eventually, he reached #506 and sat down into the comfortable seat. It had a thin layer of glossy red satin sewed on, smooth and soft against his back. A conductor arrived in the front and started to speak, but the words were lost to the boy from such a distance. After a few more encouraged shouts, the conductor bowed slightly and walked back out the door. As if on cue with his departure, the lights dimmed into marble-sized glows. His eyes adjusting, the boy reached into his weathered pack and retrieved a slim, dark blue journal. On the top, the word Your Last stood out in long flourishing letters. A golden engraving trailed down from the title, twisting and entwining into shining vines with an enchanting serpent wrapped around them. His breath spinning out in drifting bursts, the boy touched the engraving with a slim finger. My end to you.
In the next moment, it lay open on his lap.



"December 24th, 1996
8:45 p.m.


Today, I was able to board the train finally. The stunning sight of the transportation took my heart towards heaven. I had never known that they had built such a spectacular machine, and I did not even try to comprehend how they succeeded in the circumstances of today's time. Nevertheless, it was miraculous just stepping up towards it. I felt like I should bow down before the elegant  beast, with its trim red exterior, silver sides, and wonderful array of pipes and gears. Thick streams of its black breath swirled in the air, melting into the winter air. Even as I admired the machine I felt that pain in my heart. With the next step, I would be distancing myself from a childhood that I had always felt close to, that I had always wanted to be with. But even then, I knew that time was running short. The whistle blew, signaling my leave. I did not look back, for if I had, my knees would have grown weak, my heart would have fluttered, and I would have fallen in front of God. Instead, I dragged my trunk inside and handed it to an attendant. The door snapped shut behind me. I had cut away all ties.

9:50 p.m.

The interior of the Enterprise is even more surprising than the shell outside. I felt like I had stepped into the palace of His Majesty. Gold showered everything, turning even the lining on the windows into glowing rays that shot into my eyes. Covering my face with my hat, I inched my way forward. The painted numbers seemed like the purest of diamonds, so bright they were. At seat #506, I trundled over and placed my hat on a very convenient hook on the side. Seating myself, I smoothed out my skirt and sat back to gaze at the upholstery. It was a salacious red satin that I just wanted to rub my cheeks on. But of course, one cannot do that in such a high-class area. Indeed, I glanced around and saw everyone merely sitting there, gossiping or fidgeting nervously. The lights dimmed and it was like being in a movie theater. You could feel the anxiety in the people. It poured out of them like oxygen. The scenery drifted past me, hills of snow staring at me as we sped up. I waved at them and it seemed that they waved at me also. Smiling happily, I settled myself for the evening meal.

10:35 p.m.

The crew served a lavish meal that was extravagant in every way. Soft white bread that seemed to float down to my belly instead of roughly clanging through my esophagus. The vivid colors of the vegetables made me feel like I was in the world of Dr. Seuss. And the main meal, a lovely piece of roasted chicken dressed with buttery gravy and trimmings. It left me bloated and sadly wondering when the next meal was. We were in the plains now, and if you looked outside, you could see for miles and miles, just a white blanket laid down. I got a little dizzy staring at the blank excess. Then at that moment, the question came to me. Where was I going? Why? I startled myself so much that my tray fell to the floor. A few of the people sleeping next to me shifted a little. I hastily tried to clean up my mess, while thinking about my answer. Was I going because of....Why? I did not understand.


11:55 p.m.

My dear Evel,

I pray that you will never receive this, but I already know that the prayer is in vain. You will read this because of the hateful beast. I do not know what happened. The train seemed to break apart. People cried out and suddenly, I felt as if I was in a dream. I did not feel anything, but merely seemed to slide forward, past the seats, past the doors, out the windows. I landed in the snow, and then, only then, did pain finally jolt into my system. You would not believe the feeling that ensued. It was like a cold summer day. Hopeless. It was like the feeling you get when everyone stares at you. Guilty. It was like the pang you feel when the one you love rejects you or is taken away. Crushed. The train rocketed past, sending flurries of that white fairy dust into my face. I felt broken, I felt abandoned. It was a mixture of strange feelings. But at that moment, I knew that all I had right now was my diary and you. I hope that you will one day understand why I have taken your steps. I hope.

Christmas is here.

The boy closed the diary and waited. Midnight had come and gone by, yet he had not been able to follow the entries. Suddenly, the train shut off. Lights were extinguished as if the Devil had stepped inside.  I felt as if I was in a dream. The boy vomited on the ground, his face green and his body shaking. People were screaming loudly, disturbed and frightened. He had to leave. He had to go. Now was the time.

December 25, 1996, Ex-Christmas Day.
1:01 a.m.

My dear Evel,

I pray that you will never receive this, but I already know that the prayer is in vain. You will read this because of the hateful beast. On Christmas Day, my nerves were on fire. I was burning up, maybe by fever, maybe by this so-called Holiday Spirit, or maybe even by the draft of warm air blowing on my face. I was a lit match in winter for God's sake! Not that it mattered. IT made me numb to the cold and I was content with that. On this day of festivity and cheer, I myself was in danger of dying. I had hazy thoughts come to mind, like why in the world was Christmas on the day where I myself was in mortal danger? Why in the world did the most holiest of days have to be on the day I was to be killed? By an unruly fever no doubt! Christmas has always been on the 25th as you well know Evel. But my love, I feel that sometimes, we are misguided. Is Christmas really fixed? The only reason Christmas is Christmas is because many people in the world decided it to be on a certain day. But still, people from other religions celebrate similarly on completely different days. What does it mean my dear Evel? Does it suggest the fact that Christmas is not a day, but like Jesus? A spirit? Something that we trust and rever because it was a symbol of love, friendship, and happiness? Gifts? Presents? Our world today has been so sadly misguided, that I myself cannot hope to bear the shame. Dear Evel, if you are to ever receive this letter, please let the people know how strange their world is, how heated discussions are so trivial and unnecessary. Half the debates in the world come from the fact that one group doesn't agree with another group. Why do they not just compromise? If 2+2=4 because merely of the fact that everyone says so, and not because of mathematical accuracy, which as you know is completely true, then why cannot things like War be settled and discussed just as easily? WE have our choices my dear. And at this moment, I chose not to have Christmas, but rather it be a day of mourning for my slipping life. Indeed, I felt the memories of time before this, the years before I left you Evel. We used to celebrate it every year, in the same day, the same events at the same time, the same moments with the same people. Today is different though, so it cannot possibly be Christmas. Instead, it shall be called Ex-Christmas. I hope you understand why I have renounced our tradition my darling. There is no Christmas without us together. People can hate me for "seemingly" missing out on Lord, our Saviour's, son's birthday, but please, as if one day can show the birthday of the Lord's son? He was already born, and merely delivered into this hateful world. If his being sent down here to die for our petty mistakes is a thing to celebrate, then we are worse than cannibals. Oh Evel...How I wish you were here.


December 25, 1996, Ex-Christmas Day.
8:05 a.m.

My dear Evel,

I pray that you will never receive this, but I already know that the prayer is in vain. You will read this because of the hateful beast. I seemed to have survived the night, although I do not know how much longer I can go on with this accursed disease hounding at my door. Death is a metaphor, but on Ex-Christmas, anything can happen I suppose. My face burns and sweat drips from my face even in this frozen wasteland. Today, as the snow falls in all its silver glory, I feel as if it is calling to me. A world of nothing...waiting to feast on my dream. I do not want to fall...even as time breaks across me. Even in this glorious attraction...my heart wanes. Evel, again, I ask you, do not see the world as others do, but keep a mind open...for you are strong...you know. You have seen. I hope that you will understand also, just how distracted we are from the truth. I cannot see the truth though...blinded by this everlasting torment. So if you are to ever find it, which I'm sure you will, please...keep it to yourself and give it to me when I meet you in heaven.

December 25, 1996, Ex-Christmas Day.
11:15 a.m.

Life streamed from every one of my pores. I saw strange colors...shades of violet came the most vivid. Now, the tears flowed. I heard singing...encouraging me...touching my very soul. It was a high sweet voice...many voices...like a church's choir. I fell in love with the harmony. Snow spun around me, like a sheet of silk, wrapping around my shoulders. As the sun slowly reached its high, it spoke to me. I hope that this will be recorded....for further purposes.

"Do you see the light of my hands reaching down towards you, my daughter?"
"Yes, I do. It is most warm...like a bit of the stars itself."
"Treasure it....hold it to your hardened areas...let them soften and bleed. Pain...is what makes you learn."
"Pain..."
"My daughter...do not forget. If you force yourself to not feel, you are no more than a lifeless being."
"I do not want to though."
"Nothing wants to do anything. But you must...even if it is painful. For that is a part of human life. If it was not to be there, it would not have appeared."
"Who says I get to have what!"
"Why...you do my daughter."

To that, I had no answer. But I held that piece of sun....and I shall hold it in my embracing hands...gratefully...
Forever.

December 25, 1996, Ex-Christmas Day.
2:56 p.m.

My Dear Evel,

I pray that you will never receive this, but I already know that the prayer is in vain. You will read this because of the hateful beast. He's here...he was here...he's always here. I cannot handle it my dear Evel...I can't. I cannot see past this light...I cannot look into the darkness. I am too scared. Evel...oh Evel...why am I not brave like you? Why does this black glove fit perfectly into my hand, but rather seems to bulge from you? I admit it fairly, I am jealous of your courage. And I am envious of your mellowed character. Oh Evel... please help me...I am being surrounded...conveyed...the messenger is startling. Blood is rushing from my veins. I am dying Evel...Evel....Please help me. His long claws have already clawed at my throat....that warm feeling below my stomach...Oh my love! Free me from this curse...show me the way out.
I have fallen...and he has me. I am sorry my Evel.

December 25, 1996, Ex-Christmas Day.
7:53 p.m.

My Dear Evel,

I pray that you will never receive this, but I already know that the prayer is in vain. You will read this because of the hateful beast. My fever has fallen...and I hope I will never see those hallucinations again. It hurt me so to see you...sprawled on the ground. Yes, you know what event I am speaking of. They have continually hurt us...they have shredded our bodies, tampered with our minds, but still...still our bond holds. Oh Evel....if only...if only...
The snowflakes fall in clumps now....they are soft enough to feel like fluff in my hair, but heavy enough to make me slump over like a hunchback. If I was to ever ask for a present on this day, it would be that I could get out of this Cold Hell. But, as you know, not even Santa Claus can get his presents down from the North Pole on this day. No, tradition says that he does it the night before. Oh Evel...I should have asked earlier. I should have forseen. But I forgot. I did not care at the time...I felt it was strange. To ask for a present that I would never receive. Presents...they're merely trinkets...wasted bills towards something you'll get tired of. Grace...that is completely different. Grace is something you long for....become part of. When it disappears, you have to work for it, but the motivation puts you into a hazy state of pure adrenaline for that...one feeling once more. It is like how drug addicts hope for their high. The drugs were a sort of hellish grace to their part, but a gift no doubt. They work for it, but they can never receive it again. I was graced with the meeting of you...but now, here I am, hopelessly traveling for that one thing. The songs in my head push me on, but Evel...oh Evel...just the sight of you...just the feeling of your flesh against mine once more...that would be enough to keep me content for the next millenia. I wouldn't care for anything else...they could purge my body...rip apart my entrails...take the secret hidden deep in my bosom...if only they would allow me to see you. But alas...the heavens will not help. They do not intervene with earthly matters unless it helps them in some way. Have you noticed? Things do not happen on the spot when you ask for it. You must wait. Wait until the question is comprehended...the request accepted as worthy. Oh I wait for my chance. I wait...only for you.
The ground is shaking. I do not know why. But on this day, I feel like I do not know anything anymore. Life is a dragging pulp behind me. The snow is exploding up, like geysers of frothy white clouds. The bangs hurt my ears, but even so, I am still awed into silence by the phenomenon happening before me. My Evel...do you remember this? Do you? When we together traveled...when we together escaped. This rumbling...these eruptions...they were like our love. Blossoming...beautiful, if I may say so myself. Evel...Would you hold me if I was there? Would you bless my heart...with yours? Oh tell me....please...my soul is torn in two.

December 25, 1996, Ex-Christmas Day.
11:59 p.m.

I am dead. I was dead when I was removed from your presence Evel...like a tree without sunlight...I withered slowly and now I am without life. Can you understand now Evel? I am tired. I do not want to step forward anymore...if you plan for me to find you, you must come and get me. I do not care if I am being selfish...I HAVE NO STRENGTH LEFT. God has left me...if our memories are accurate, he was never with us. We were not born Evel. We were created.

The boy stood in front of the icy dunes. She had come here. He could almost feel her scorn, her anger, her buried fury inside these powdered shelters. He flipped through the book again. The pages never stopped...they kept going...with entry after entry...after entry. He continued to flip..trying to see...but his eyes could not focus past the next page. He went further, but the more distance he put from where he had stopped reading, the more blurry...the more mismatched the words became. The journey does not end...the secret will not be revealed until you, like me, am dead. The boy put the journal back into his bag and walked a few more steps. Exhaustion had taken over him almost immediately. The snow is exploding up, like geysers of frothy white clouds.
"Can you keep going like this?"
"I must. I have been contracted into the terms."
"But..just what are you risking? What are they risking? You lay your life...no your sanity on the line. All they lay is a few coins....a few rules bent. They can get more if you fail. They have time. You do not."
"That is why I am desperate. That is why...I shall follow her...as she was the same as I. Desperate...empty...desolate."
"She is not the same as you. She is not."
"No...but we are now on the same path. Like she had written...I will die before I receive her secret."
"Do you expect to follow her all the way to this God-forsaken Evel?"
"I expect to follow her until the journal ends. And you should not stop me!" the boy ordered, spinning around. The voice disappeared...and the man standing behind him was gone. The boy panted for breath, his voice echoing around him in this empty field. The wind sliced at him, blowing apart his clothes, stretching his limbs backwards. Cold, white banners struck him wherever they could enter, and he fell to his knees. I agree that Christmas is a day that anyone can choose. Not a single place. But...Christmas is not a day of holiday and spirit. It is a day of pain and remorse. For it is the day where we lost. We lost to God. And time froze in its place.


The snow had stopped. I do not know what happened now...but the flakes had frozen in place. I could touch them...I could drift them apart so that they jangled. I placed my hands between a fold of white beads, and incredibly, as if they were stringed together. Necklaces of diamond...silver....blue-white sapphire. I pushed them apart and they twisted underneath my hand, like curtains when you spread them apart. The path cleared before me...and I do not know why, but I packed my hands with snow...until it was a ball. And I flung it...as far as I could...through the space. Then I looked down...and the snow fell like shattered hail. It smashed into my shoulders, bruised my skin, and slashed at my whole. But...but...
The snowball did not fall.

"A beautiful entry..."
"I thank you Lady Instil."
"Did you enjoy that lovely story my dear knight?"
"It is but a story m'lady. A story."
"Not just a story...a wild tale that tangles around life itself," the Lion replied, almost haughtily."I hope now, you see Christmas in a different light."
"I have never seen Christmas, and I do not want to. It is a holiday...an ancient tradition. Bah."
"My dear...Guard you are so rude."
"I am sorry my Lady."
"No, it is excusable. Is there more Lion?"
"Yes...but it is not of relevance now."
"Please...read us more. I am excited to find what happens next."
"There is nothing left. If I started more...we would not be able to go back."
"What do you mean?"
The Lion merely smiled and bowed to the lady. She cocked her head wistfully and the Lion walked towards the door. As he neared it, the gracious beast turned around and his lips moved.

        The journey does not end...the secret will not be revealed until you, like me, am dead.