Somewhere in the middle of nowhere, a young man woke up in a startle: clutching the sheets of his bed as a ragged breath escaped his mouth. His hair was tousled into spikes in the air as his eyes rustled in silent fear. His tensed limbs slowly relaxed, until he was a mess melting into his mattress. Muted shuffles and conversation could be heard through the walls, as sunlight spilled onto the floor of the equally as dishevelled room. Another groan erupted as his hands met his face, dragging down to his chin as he bore holes into the cream ceiling. With a sudden shout downstairs, he slowly rested his feet on the floor as he sat upright, facing a wall of polaroids and strings strung together in a mesmerising fashion.
'Pending! It's 10'o clock for God's sake. Get up and out the door!', the same, high pitched voice boomed from downstairs, yet clearer this time.
Pending slowly turned to the slightly ajar, worn out door of his room and let out an exasperated sigh; lips downturned into a grimace. He sat staring into the crevices before finally getting up, off of the crumpled sheets. Slowly, he stumbled over to his wardrobe and lazily shifted through the hung articles of clothing before settling on one. As he changed, he stared at the wall of various sceneries and people he had left in the past with disdain and bitterness.
His reminiscence was cut short as the same voice echoed into his room saying, 'You won't be getting breakfast if you don't hurry up!'
He awkwardly shuffled into his clothes at a quickened pace, with silent curses muttered under his breath. With another clumsy stumble, Pending grasped onto the strap of his shoulder bag, hung onto the handle of the wardrobe, picked up a polaroid camera worn out from use from his desk and quickly strung it around the other shoulder.
'I'm coming!', Pending shouted back in a mix of exasperation and fatigue.
He hastily stumbled down the stairs, passing haphazardly placed picture frames of an older couple, himself and some of another girl, while lightly brushing the wooden railing; feeling the ridges etched into it. As Pending made his way to the bottom of the staircase and carelessly opened the door, he came face to face with his own disgruntled mother, with a messy apron tied around her waist, hair pulled up into a last minute bun and a frown gracing her face; one hand tightly holding onto a ladle and the other grasping the handle of a pan resting on the stove.
He sheepishly grinned at her and her eyebrow raised in response; both irritancy and fondness clouding her eyes.
'So, ', she started, 'what's your excuse this time? It's 10 in the morning and you just got up. Your Dad left hours ago for work, and you're not even working yet', she exclaimed in exasperation as she turned back to the stove.
'You know business is slow for me right now Mum. There hasn't been many orders that need me to wake up early', Pending responded. He pulled back the dining table chair, and sat down facing his Mother. 'It's not like I have an office job like Dad anyways', he added.
'When has business ever not been slow for you.' she replied pointedly, not expecting an answer.
After a few minutes of silence, with quiet sizzling from the pan being the only sound heard, she finally let out a sigh before asking, 'Do you still enjoy it?'
Looking up from his intertwined fingers, with slight hesitancy, he answered with a simple 'Yes'
'Well that's enough for me', she proclaimed, turning round to face him with a small smile on her lips and a plate of pancakes held in her hand. She placed them in the empty place where his hands once sat on the table, and he muttered a silent thanks.
They sat in a comfortable silence, with Pending face down towards his plate and his mother washing dishes in the sink away from him. Pending rises from his seat with an empty dish held in his hand and slowly makes his way over to mother. She hummed and pulled the plate away from him and placed it into the sink with, onto another pile of dishes.
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'You're lucky I'm feeling nice enough to do the dishes today', she said, with her head slightly raised with the corners of her lips, clearly expecting a reply.
'Thanks for that', Pending responded, somewhat reluctantly as he turned to pick up his bag and camera, leaning on the leg of his chair, 'I'll be going now'
He heard a muted 'be safe', as he left the room to his front door. Quickly putting on his shoes, he slipped through the door, locked, it and hung the ring of the keys around his ring finger.
Pending made his way through the countless, dreary streets with his head down facing the pavement and music blasted down his ears. He was just one of the numerous people walking those streets to get to where they needed to go. Pending never thought of himself as special or unique in any way. 'everyone is unique' was bullshit. He never had anything to his name that was inherently different from others: he had no talents, wasn't the most attractive and was pretty average in every way and maybe even boring in his opinion and he'd come to terms with it. Being part of the crowd was familiar to him.
He made a right turn and let out a breath at the sight of the train station before making his way to his platform. He stood for a while, face down and his leg tapping against the concrete floor. As his train screeched to a halt before him, he walked through the cabin doorway into the bustling room, before taking a seat near the entrance. He was just one face among many.
Announcements passed his ears and the train began to move as Pending was jerked to the side slightly. His mind was plagued with thoughtless thoughts as he stared emptily into the washed out grey floor of the cabin.
As seemingly endless minutes passed, the doors opened again as the train slowed down until it was stagnant. He lazily got up and shuffled out of the cabin doors and looked up. Passing his regular route out of the station, he again passed numerous houses and pavements before reaching where he wanted to be.
Pending was graced with the nostalgic sight of the green in front of him. He slowly trudged through the endless fields as the blades of grass brushed against his ankles and sunlight gently kissed his skin and flopped onto the grass below a tree; leaning onto the rugged bark as he pulled out his camera and bag.
Sunlight slipped through the gaps in the leaves and poured onto the green as branches rustled as a gentle breeze passed through.
He pulled his camera up to his eye as he stared through the lens into the picturesque scenery before him. With the press of his finger, the camera made a snap and a polaroid slowly started printing from its base.
Pending lowered his camera to see not the scenery he had captured in his camera, but something incredibly different and out of place. His camera fell to the ground in shock as he saw a train, extremely old by the look of it, with peeling paint revealing a rusted metal interior. Vines wrapped around the train and its cabins, painting it with seemingly exotic flora in beautiful, vibrant shades. The train and its cabins seemed endless, as it went on for as long as Pending could see. The train floated: hovering slightly above the grass, brushing the ends of a few.
Pending froze in shock with his mouth wide open in confusion and fear. The driver door opened with a sudden squeak as a man jumped out of the compartment. He had straight black hair, messily cut at different lengths, with the longest reaching the tip of his pointed chin and a train driver's hat placed on his head. His features seemed soft, with his downturned eyes emanating gentleness, however he had a contradictory sharp smile painted across his face. He wore a messy suit, shirt untucked and tie loose and seemed to be in his late 20s or early 30s.
The man slowly approached Pending, to which Pending tensed and tried to make himself seem smaller in any way. The man paused for a second, hesitating, before continuing forward a few steps. He halted a few feet away from the terrified man curled up in front of him before clearing his throat and straightening his posture.
'My name is The Conductor,', he began ',and you are one of the lucky few to have earned a trip on our luxury liner: The Bygone Express', he proclaimed, in an overly joyous voice with his arms moving around in embellishment in the air.
Pending could only stare in disbelief as he muttered under his breath, 'What the fuck'.
