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...Moving Along the Tracks... Remnants of Red... The Quit Smoking Express by Carole Anzolletti

Updated on January 9, 2012

One's Own Place

The golden orange sun moves fluidly across the horizon. Dawn has come after the long dark phantom filled night. The train would be here soon. The man waited for time to pass for so long and now he was hesitant to move. He was faced with the decision to stay where he was, in his lonely dark life or to get on the Train and begin over after all this time.

He looked around his apartment and out over the bridge across the street. The Train station was just on the other side and he was ready with everything packed up. He wasn't taking much because he had lost all interest in the material things around him. All he really cared about now was himself. He quietly shut the door and left the key in the mailbox for his landlord. He walked out and across the street with the soft golden glow upon him.

The landscape beyond the bridge was still bright even in the January cold. Evergreens towered like majestic kings along the edge of the town he had lived in all of his life. He knew he should be excited but really, he wasn't sure how to be anymore. Everything seemed to have caved in on him here and now the future was just bleak and uninviting. How could he make things better? Moving. Yes, this was the answer. He had to move away from all the old things and habits because nothing would ever change unless he shored up the courage to get away from all of it.

He wanted to simply be happy. Why was that so hard to achieve? He knew that continuing the inhalation of thousands of chemicals was blocking much of this desired feeling. He was not aware, however, of the importance of cultivating happiness for himself and that putting himself first would have to be the focus of his new life. If he didn't do it now, would he ever? Time was screeching by.


The Train pulled in as he walked up to the platform. He had his one bag and Ticket. The conductor looked normal, friendly...human. The man took a deep breath and stepped inside. This car was filled with people. January was a very busy time for The Quit Smoking Express.

Some of the passengers squirmed and fiddled with their electronic devices. Others ate sunflowers seeds while they stared blankly and angrily out the window. Some had gray bags under their eyes and a cloudy aura that was rank with hatred for all they had put themselves through so far.

The man took a coveted window seat as his town faded into the distance. He instantly felt a shift in his emotions and although he couldn't fathom what his future would be like he was happier now because it was his decision. He had followed his internal promptings by leaving habits where they a Place of the Past. He never had to visit there again until he was ready, and he would need to do that one day. It couldn't all be erased just by hopping the Train. It could, however, be looked at in hindsight. He could learn a lot about himself, from himself, if he could manage to just step away and view everything from a better unclouded perspective.

His emotions would be organized as long as he stayed on the Train. He could reach out now beyond himself and pull his own answers and happiness out of the Great Universe of Possibilites. It was all very well within his reach if he would continue to agree with supporting himself. He would have to organize his memories as the days went by. He needed to decide what he was keeping and what he never wanted to relive again. The Roots of these things needed to be identified so that when the Healing Waters began to flow within him they could be washed away with the addiction and the Fear of Change.


The people in the train were a great mixture of personalities. One of them, girl with a rose tattoo on her neck, sat quietly with her eyes down. Her hands rested peacefully in her lap and as he looked closer at her he saw that her nails were painted red. They were not too short and not too long but there was something incredibly different about them. He wasn't sure but thought that they must have recently been digging earth, bare and strong. She had something around her that he could not exactly see yet he could not ignore existed.

The conductor then came through the heavy metal and glass door. The man looked up at him and realized he had seen him before. He knew him from somewhere. His thin skin pulled tightly over his harsh skull and before it dissolved. No one else seemed to notice as the skin stretched and tore off his bones and the skeletal reaper clicked his fingers together.

"Ticket, please." He smiled and plucked it out of the man's hand. Click, click the ticket was punched and handed back to him. "Enjoy your Ride." He disappeared through the door and the man looked again for the girl with the red nails. She had also disappeared and the faint smell of cigarette smoke hung in the air.

He swallowed hard and looked in his bag for the bottle of water he always carried. It too was gone. Now he was becoming frustrated. Small details were becoming massive disturbances that felt like personal assaults on his comfort. His social skills were never developed properly so he wouldn't even think of asking for help from strangers. Instead he began to believe this was all a mistake. It seemed like every little thing would turn against him even though these things were truly little things.

Suddenly he just wanted to go back to his miserable life. It was all he knew. He was too tired to be strong now.

This is to be continued as "Moving Along the Tracks Part 2"...


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