Train Station
Train Station [creative writing-Fiction]
Train Station
This new; maybe you can help; all are invited; constructive criticism welcomed
If you had one chance to ‘go back; to “turn back time”, to change one thing, to correct one mistake in your entire life; where then, would you go?
The desperate young woman had been on another wild run with the Devil. ‘The King Dragon― Coffee―, Milkweed―, Heroin.
The name Heroin, derived from the Greek word Hero, when first introduced (administered to soldiers on the battlefield), had an immediate and profound effect upon the wounded. Whereas, a wounded soldier, after being administered with the drug, would then resolutely pick him-self up from the bed to rejoin the fight, where then often performing heroic deeds.
She had been under its spell, every day for the past two weeks. The “Hot breath of the Dragon” again had her in its clutches. In the beginning, the drug had been her best friend and liberator. Now it took everything, to give nothing in return. For her, and many others, the drug had an intense and profound effect. [more]
She had never asked anyone for help, she was a proud young woman from an affluent family. Moreover―, even though her brother would scold her, he would help her, she could not―, would not let her parents see her like this.
Now she had to get to her brother’s or she would surely perish now, out here, where no one cares. A junkie’s death is not a pretty sight.
Maybe beginning: The high open dome of the stadium-size building was a formidable sight. The steel girders holding the heavy roof aloft looked as if the girders of a large bridge were hanging from thin air. For Jonathan, this spectacle represented the cold bones of his life. A hardened steel framework, representing the hard core of his life, hardened ever since that moment in time, so many years ago. A building with no walls, only that roof, and the huge clock―, time.
“können sie mir bitte helfen.” Her desperate plea, directed at him, the good-looking young American. Jonathan turned around sharply, to meet her agonizing gaze. He was thunderstruck, not only had he heard her supplication clearly in English (“Can you help me please” Or more correctly; “Can-you-me-please help?”), in his head, his heart answered her long before his trembling lips could move. From deep within, a wellspring of past pain, transformed into compassion, he began to reach for his wallet. He clearly heard in his head; ‘Can ‘you help me please?’ Previously, he had been working tediously at acquainting himself with the new language.
He would never forget her beautiful yet broken face, or the pleading look in her eyes, that poor suffering girl whom had asked him for help. Now twenty years later he needed to save her, but more importantly, he wanted to get back to her. He now wanted this more than he wanted anything else. However, He did not even know her name; she was a complete stranger then. Yet she was ‘broken’ broken, as he had been. Now she had become the most important person in his fading life, he could not really say why. However, over the past twenty years, he had now become intimate with her, her ghost now haunted him, and the guilt had ruined him.
She had died, later that morning, shortly after he had told her to ‘fuck off’.
She thought of the good-looking man, and his depravity of her. She continued to think to herself, and nearly spoke aloud, “a year ago I might have dated him, that good-looking man would have found me attractive, but now, oh what have I become?” and with this thought she then threw herself off the platform, into the path of an on-coming train.
Jonathan had not turned around when he heard the screams; he felt little confusion as people rushed by him, running. He knew what had happened.
When her ghost came back to him, to torment him for his truculence because he was supposed to have saved her, and he did not! She would have had she lived, and gone on to save the countless others, in her destiny, been a true light flickering, in this dismal world. He stole their fate as well as he had hers. Moreover, how many people were there, who now was either dead or worse? The countless lives that the junkie would have influenced were now victims of his shame and insolence as well. What then was the sum-total of his iniquities? What self-destructive forces then, now came to bare down upon him? What inexorable suffering did he now inflict upon himself, now that he knew?
Why then, why had she become so important, to him? After all―, he had told her to ‘fuck off’―, had he not? At the time he did not want to tell her this, in fact, not only was he reaching for his wallet to give her― then, the one hundred-mark note, contained within, in addition, he was going to get her help and take her home. He could tell that she was done―, ready. This was because of the look in her eyes; a look he knew only too well, he had seen that look many times in the mirror―; this was the look of a junkie whom has had enough―, who is finally dead to the world, and then ready for the sun―, and life.
Why did he then turn, had he turned a few seconds later, or a few seconds earlier, he would not have seen that look on Petra’s face.
He knew the moment that he turned, when he then saw the look on her face, that he would have to leave her, that he had not really known her until that moment. He then suddenly realized, feeling as if he was a man struck a little too high on the head by the executioner’s blade. He realized then that, he did not love her―, had never really loved her. In that moment, he realized with dismay, shock, and disbelief that for all of the many previous thirteen years, he had been in love with an illusion. In love, with whom, and what he thought, or wished her to be. Maybe this is why he told the junkie to ‘fuck off’. Nevertheless, he now had to get back to Hamburg Main Station, even before ‘they’ arrived.
It had been raining this day and additionally, that day in his past. The wind-swept rain, now stinging his face brought to him a sense of alarming urgency to be successful in the impending, up-coming task of traveling through time itself. He now recalled those few minutes, having to do with a complete stranger, which now had become the “obsession”―he just had to get back.
He checked his wallet again, to examine every Deutschmark Note, examining the date printed on the bills, and there where many, totaling one thousand German Deutschemarks, mostly small bills and a few one hundred-Mark notes. He had to be sure that none of the notes were from beyond nineteen ninety-five, more than a full year too early, just to be sure. He then examined the coins, looking closely at several five-mark coins, “this will be the price for a pack of smokes from the machine, the machine in Eppendorf, Kellinhusenstrasse, no―!” he suddenly screamed aloud. People on the very large, gray, 747 jumbo jet, suddenly looked at him with terror in their eyes.
The huge ‘747’ was now coming in for a landing; the plane seemed to be going too slow now. The massive wings now shuddered, creaked and groaned as the heavy engines revved down. He felt that awful feeling in his stomach as if he were falling. He hated everything about flying, soaring through the air terrified him. He did not know what was worse; taking off, or landing―, or being over the middle of the Atlantic at forty thousand feet.
He thought then about that strange man, Ramirez his shockingly good looks, his keen piercing blue eyes underneath a wavy lock of jet-black hair.
“Why― did I make this bargain with the devil?” He asked himself― “I had to”, he reminded himself.
Ramirez had been puzzled, because Jonathan Shark given this one chance. The chance to go back, to any of many points in time, of his miserable lifetime, and with no-hesitation, he chose to go back to help that poor German girl. Even given, the weighing of so many opportunities to, “Go-Back” to save any one of his failed relationships, including that of the two daughters, he chose instead, three minutes alone with a complete stranger.
Two beautiful daughters, daughters whom had resolutely disowned him, severing their relationship with him permanently, all because he could not keep his mouth, shut. How can mere words alone, albeit spoken in heated agitation, be so decisive and destructive? Less than five minutes worth of words alone, a spewing, or a rant of hateful vengeance, thoughts against the Mother of his second born. How then could this simple stupid act, kill his relationship with his first-born and his second, even though they each had different mothers? Foolishly, at the time, he had tried to vindicate himself; at least this was his intent. Nevertheless, this intent had backfired, to the point where he lost both of them. He had revealed the truth to them this was why, albeit an ugly truth, nevertheless, it was the truth. It seems that people have a hard time with the truth when they have been living a lie their entire life.
Shark, might have even went back to save his brother, but he had not. Maybe he knew that this would not work. Moreover, maybe he knew that this single act of fate had completely altered his life from such a young age. Maybe he knew that this would destroy him. In addition, that at the very least this would cause him to live the remainder of his life in an insane asylum. Jonathan was a smart man, a spiritual man, a martial arts man. Jonathan had been awake in his consciousness for a long time.
Jonathan also knew something else, and that is the train in Hamburg, that the young girl had thrown herself in front of, had to be delayed, and aside from throwing an innocent passerby into its path [more] if alternative ending two is chosen.
Ramirez drove the black BMW into the passenger alcove, at San Francisco International Airport, where he would leave Jonathan. As Jonathan was getting out of the car, Ramirez asked; “You have the device?” Jonathan sighed heavily; he was weary, feeling old and, hopeless. Then turning to look Ramirez in the eye, he answered his dark companion, “Yes, Ramirez I have the device”, and then grabbing his travel bag, he added, “don’t worry, when I get back, I will find you and deliver it to you”. He said, re-assuring Ramirez. He paused for a moment, and looking back, he asked, Ramirez, “Have you ever used this thing”? Ramirez’, otherwise solemn face, ruined by a life filled with contempt and cynicism suddenly burst into a large smile, and then he said, “We’ve been here before, my man”. In shock of the sudden and disturbing remark, Jonathan then hastily shuts the passenger door of the black, menacing―, predator- looking vehicle.
Maybe beginning: The high open dome of the stadium-size building was a formidable sight. The steel girders holding the heavy roof aloft looked as if the girders of a large bridge were hanging from thin air. For Jonathan, this spectacle represented the cold bones of his life. A hardened steel framework, representing the hard core of his life, hardened ever since that moment in time, so many years ago. A building with no walls, only that roof and the huge clock―, time―; “I have to get Back―, the device must work, Ramirez better not be playing games with me, I’ll kill him, even if he is a spook” Jonathan tried to compose and reassure himself, after the odd statement made by Ramirez.
Later on the plane, Jonathan retrieved the watch-like device from its jeweled case, tucked safely away in the inside pocket of his black suede leather jacket. The jacket was not only a gift from Ramirez, it was exactly like the one he had bought at “Ross’” department store, in ninety-five, shortly before he had moved to Germany.
“Back―; Back then, I must get back.” He focused on his breathing now,
“Heart-coherence, right brain”. He repeated his Mantra, repeatedly, again, and again. His breathing, slowing deeper now, he began to drift back. Remembering the sounds, her voice, and the overwhelming emotion to help her, it felt as if his heart were bleeding―, blood, and life force gushing out of him, he knew then that he was willing to die for her, for someone he did not even know! Remembering the conversation with Ramirez, about how the device worked, he know now that he must focus his emotions
“Haben Sie etwas gegen meinen Rauch?” (Do you have anything against my smoke? Alternatively, ‘Do you mind if I smoke?’), He had been practicing his German when the young Jonathan, with the very keen, bright blue eyes, asks his girlfriend, as he reached for a smoke. He smiled broadly at her hoping to surprise her with the use of her native language. Petra then looks over to him with the faintest curl of a smile now forming on her mouth, then suddenly her smile changes into a cruel snarl forming on the thin-line of her upper lip, she then answers, angrily,
“Nein, bitte―! (No please!), Germans don’t―, not here!” Now, there is the familiar incredulous look on her face as she glares at him, as if saying; “are you ― crazy?” His girlfriend was like this, sometimes mean and shrewd, speaking in broken-German and/or English.
“That damn, Bitch―!” Jonathan thinks to himself, as he tucked the half-withdrawn cigarette back into its pack.
“Hauptbahnhof Hamburg Stadt!” (Hamburg Main Train Station, City), the train operator bellowed over the intercom, within their car, as the train reached Hamburg Main Station. A loud hiss followed by an immediate bell-tone, soon followed, the sounds blending as the subway-car came to a shrieking halt, at Hamburg Main. They were bound for Lubeck, some sixty kilometers north. Lubeck, with its ancient tall spires touching the sky nestled on the bay of the Baltic, had avoided allied bombing. The allies were mostly interested in Peenemunde, which lay two hundred kilometers to the east, and targets further east, including Berlin. The young Jonathan’ destination was Travemünde Strand, on the shores of the Baltic, to spend the day metal detecting at the beach. Jonathan was looking forward to spending the day with Michael from Berlin whom he had met previously, in France. Michael was a computer programmer who […more…...] add algorithm he developed and, [black cabal connection]
This could be an ending to a short story: As soon as Jonathan debarked from the train car, he instantly is overwhelmed by new smells, sound, and visionary overload. He thought of getting something to eat at the Middle Eastern concessionary stand located beyond the newspaper, and magazine stand. He moved instead there, to acquire a copy of “Der Spiegel” he suddenly paused, noticing a blond hair man wearing a jacket the same as he, the man was giving money to a street junkie. Later, when Jonathan boarded the train to Lubeck, he heard commotion, a squeal of brakes, a loud thud, coming from within the station. He proceeded down the corridor of the car to seat himself near the window. He then looked out the window to see the man wearing the jacket identical to his. The man looked like an older version of himself, his agonizing look, the tears in his eyes, vexed Jonathan.
Alternative ending: Time traveler Jonathan throws himself in front of the train and the Junkie girl stares at the young Jonathan through the train car window.
This continues on or new story: Ramirez and the dark cabal he secretly worked for, needed Jonathan even more than Jonathan knew. They had possession of the artifact since nineteen eleven, acquiring it shortly after its discovery, where the archeological team excavated the artifact, near Machu Pichu.
Lodge Friendenthal―, Swiss Alps, Bavaria; four hours, by car from Nuremberg Airport, middle of coldest winter in one hundred years. Loc. Hunting lodge/castle, medieval
The “Hunting Lodge” if you want to call it this, “Friendenthal”, just happened to be the very same ‘lodge’ that the Vril members had met in the nineteen twenties.
Jonathan boards the private jet at Hamburg International headed for Nuremberg, where he was to meet the Czechoslovakian. Shortly after takeoff, the pilot announces;
“The heaters for the flaps of this aircraft are not working; we will have to return to the airport in Hamburg, Mr. Shark”. Shortly after the frightening announcement from the intercom, the beautiful flight attendant approached Jonathan’s seat and asked,
“Do you care for anything to drink, Mr. Shark?”
The huskily built man in his early fifties reaches for the burl-wood cigar humidor and retrieves two Cuban made Habana cigars. He then turns towards Jonathan, offering him one of the cigars saying,
“You know, my friend, they claim these are rolled on the thighs of beautiful virgins.” The Czech’ then holds one of the cigar’s to his nose taking a deep inhale through his nostrils.
“Curios thought”, he says smiling, handing the cigar to Jonathan. Jonathan thinks to himself;
“Yeah, ‘curious’ indeed, probably rolled on the thighs of some sweaty old woman with no teethe.” After lighting the Habana the Czech, had seated, the shady man that Michael’s friend ‘Rolf’ had introduced him to asks,
“So, you like the Veneer samples?”
“Indeed, they are fabulous, and the wood is?” the Czech inquired.
“Bastogne Walnut Burl, very rare….
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