Where I'm Going

Entry by: Martin Willitts Jr

30th July 2015
The Ticket

I do not remember purchasing a ticket, nor planning a trip. I do not know where I am going, or why I am going. All I know is that I am standing on a train platform, waiting. I do not even have luggage so I must be going on a short trip. Now I have to worry about Alzheimer’s.

“Ticket, sir,” requested the conductor. He was wearing a blue suit with brass buttons on the collar, and a blue hat with the word “Conductor” printed on the hat band.

I handed him the ticket which I found in my right breast pocket. I do not remember placing it there, but it seemed the most likely place for a ticket. He punched the card twice and handed it back to me.

He moved on to the other passengers sitting on the train. You could hear the hiss of released train brakes. The banging of passenger cars went back and forth, meaning we would leave soon.

I looked at the card. There was no destination. No whole punches. The card was white and blank. I wondered why it was blank. I could hear the call for last passengers.

The pretty woman across from me smiled, faintly, like a shy person does when they are uncomfortable around strangers. I decided to break the ice, since we would be traveling together and I did not know how long we would be traveling. “Pleasant day, isn’t it?”

She had a slight curve to her smile, like a person ashamed to be near unknown men. How could she know to trust me? We never met before. She responded so quiet, I almost never heard her, “I guess so.”

She sounded younger. I was wondering if she was eighteen or younger. It would explain her uncertainty. She had blue eyes you could only notice if she looked at you, but her head was only raised briefly, and now she was looking at her nervous hands on her lap, worrying the folds of her long blue dress. Her hands were pale, and trembling. She seemed to be counting invisible rosary beads.

“Do you go to school?” I decided to narrow down her age. “Do you work? What do you do?”

She looked more uncertain. Perhaps she was more concerned now that I might be a pervert. I had come on too strong. I thought, so much for polite conversation; perhaps I should remain quiet.

“I have never been dead before,” she responded. “How do you get used to it.” She was now admiring my wings.

“I have been assisting people since the beginning of time.” I finally realized I was on this train because she would recognize a train. Each person has a different version of transitioning from life into heaven, and this was her version. “Don’t worry, I am your guide.”