Status: I hope you understand where I was getting at with this short story. It's not my best but.. hey :)
A Stranger on a Train
Post Secret
242 Holloway Dr.
California 90201
Unknown
Somewhere
Dear boy in The Smiths t-shirt,
I guess I’m one of those people who believe that everything happens for a reason.
Call me a cliché but ever since that day on the train, headed west, it’s impossible to convince me otherwise.
Sure, maybe a bit of traffic during your morning drive to work – or a loss of a loved one is happening for a reason. Fate, if you may.
Maybe that ten minute delay, sitting in your car, honking at the stilled passengers, allowed you to escape from a sudden explosion from a gasoline truck, five minutes away from your destination.
Maybe the loss of your dear, Aunt Sally reconnected you with an old friend or your mom. Or your depression you’ve sunk into has brought you into counseling, your therapist; a young, attractive, single man. You two get married and have two beautiful children.
At certain points in your life you’ll be given a reminder of your purpose of being there. You’ll read something remarkable, see a tragic event, or meet someone. Right away you’ll know it was meant to be there, meant to happen, to serve a purpose and teach a lesson or help you figure out who you are and who you want to be.
Meeting you wasn’t planned but when I looked you in your eyes I knew that every moment I was with you, for that given time on that shaky train, that you were going to change my life and mind in some profound way.
Something will always come out of other things – whether they be good or bad or in this case, completely random. Nothing happens by chance or luck. Bad things and good things happen to test your soul. Without the small tests, life would be so easy, simple, and boring. You’ll never discover yourself and it will be utterly pointless.
Something so small, like meeting you, has become something so incredibly big in my mind. You’ve taught me to live and smile and take chances.
I was running away from home but meeting you lead me right back to the small town.
My mom used to always tell me to never be inhospitable to strangers because they could always be angels in disguise. I’ve never been a really religious person but I’ve always had the hope that this was true; that some strangers could be a guardian angel. I believed that, in this case, that you were one of my angels. An angel dressed in a band t-shirt, The Smiths, and a pair of jeans, and broken in, black combat boots. No visible wings on you but I knew they had to be there.
I sat on the cracked seat in the small cabin on the train. I’ve been saving for over a year for the ticket out of the cruel state, known as Florida. It’s not just Disney World, Orlando, Miami, and Daytona. That’s just the touristy outlook of the place. Most people forget that there are other places, smaller places, full of people. You don’t come all the way down from Ohio to see Umatilla. They go to the stereotypical fun, big, city, full of tanned people, and characters from films.
I hated the small town I was in. The people were dull, the streets were dull, and the buildings were too. Nothing excited me. I felt as if I didn’t belong. I was alone there. I didn’t have any friends and I had no idea what I was doing so I packed up a single backpack with clothing, money, my Polaroid camera, and left. Memories left behind. I didn’t want to look back.
Sitting in silence, I ran my fingers through my hair, and glanced up at you. You were tapping your boot while reading a book titled “It’s Kind of a Funny Story,” and had an earphone hanging out of your left ear. I wondered if he was running away too. Maybe he’s visiting family or going off for a holiday. I think people fail to notice that everyone has a story and I’m always trying to figure them out on my own.
You noticed me and I realized I’ve been staring. I blushed stupidly and panicked internally. I dropped my backpack and it rolled over to your side of the cabin and you picked it up. I think you knew right away that I was running away from home. You didn’t ask though. You just handed the pack back over and smiled, “Seeing family?” I swallowed hard with a frown, “No.” You still didn’t ask where I was off to and why. I was glad you never questioned me. I didn’t know my reasons either other than the fact that I wanted to go away. Far away, to California.
You could probably see the anticipation, fear, excitement all over my face. I was finally escaping from the cruel town, full of cruel people. I think we all have had a dream of wanting to drop everything, start off a new, and run away to California, at least once in our lives – but it doesn’t mean that everyone actually pursues it. I may just be a living, walking cliché because it’s exactly what I was doing. No, I wasn’t one of those teenagers who craved fame and ran off to Hollywood, expecting to “make it big” within the first week there. I also wasn’t going for the warm weather, beaches, or the massive amount of things to do. I wanted to go to California because it’s always appealed to me since I was a child. On television they exaggerated it as being sunny, palm trees on every corner, and the chances of running into at least four stars in one day. But what I liked about it was the versatility. You could be skiing on the mountains, early morning, and be at the beach, by mid-afternoon. It was far enough away to be able to escape from everything and leave it all behind as well. I didn’t really have a plan but I liked it that way. I wanted to pack a bag and be off and do things on my own for once. I didn’t need anyone then.
You took the earphone out and stared intently at me. I was uncomfortable at first but then I shared the stare. You scoffed, “You have no idea what you’re doing, do you?” I was shocked of how easily read I am. It annoyed me a bit but I didn’t think any of it and replied “Who does? Do you know what you’re doing?” You said you didn’t. You said that you loved it, not knowing what was to come. But you also said that you were scared. You told me about your fears and dreams of making it big with music. No the sellout kind but rich, sweet, indie music, played only by acoustics. You wanted to die knowing that you’d be remembered for your lyrics.
Being known for your thoughts and ideas is genuinely remarkable. Your words being repeated by thousands of dreamers much like yourself, is an influence over everything. People can go years without seeing your face but your words make them think. The control of your writing and music can give someone a completely different view on life. I thought that was the most beautiful thing.
I think that inspired me.
You asked, “What do you do?”
“What do I do? I don’t do anything.” I said.
“No, no. Everybody is good at something.”
I thought about this for a moment. I don’t think I was good at anything. I could never sing, play any instrument, or draw. I didn’t know how to do a cartwheel or cook. I wasn’t talented at anything at all. I felt discouraged and you could tell, “Sometimes it takes longer for others to figure out what they’re meant to do. Don’t feel bad.”
I considered this. I was a bit of a nihilistic person. I didn’t think I really had a purpose. But it wasn’t going to stop be from going out to discover it; just as a lack of belief in gravity won’t prevent me from tripping and skinning my knee.
You had a guitar case beneath your seat and I asked for you to play it. You did. I sat back and watched your fingers go at it with the strings. You looked like you belonged with it, like I could no longer see you without it again. We talked a bit more about your music and California and your hometown in Georgia. You said you were going to miss your mom and this girl, Becky. I assumed she was more than ‘just a friend’ while you talked about her. She was the one who encouraged you to go off and live your dreams.
Your confidence irritated me in a way. You were so sure of yourself, no matter how much you said you were scared. Like you were tying rocks to your feet and jumping into the sea, saying goodbye to the world, in search for a new one, but telling everyone you were afraid. If you were so afraid why would you be jumping into the deep water with rocks anchoring you down? Maybe you were, in fact, afraid. Maybe you were just the type of person who took chances in order to change your life and live it the way you want to.
It was getting close to our stop to California but you left me with words I won’t forget,
“You’ve just gotta live one step at a time. Make mistakes, have adventures, drive around for the sole reason of just driving around. Just live the way you want to but don’t let go of the past that made you who you are today. If you can’t find yourself in one place, the only logical thing to do is find another until you find yourself but from each place you go to you will take a little bit from each and it will live throughout you, no matter what you do. Like it will through my music. Just live. “
I picked up my Polaroid camera and snapped a photo of you then. I don’t even think you noticed. I didn’t ask to even take it. I just wanted to. I wanted to remember this day on the train and the fearless boys with dreams bigger than himself, and the boy who inspired me to live.
I still have the picture. The light bent a bit in the corner and reflected on your face. Your dark hair was worn shaggy and messy, your earphones back in your ears, your hands lying across the guitar case on your lap.
When we finally boarded off the train and went our separate ways I realized we never got each other’s names. I wanted to chase after you to ask for it but you disappeared into the station and on your way.
I have no idea where you are in the world now or who you’ve become. I lie awake at night sometimes and wonder if your dreams came true and if I’ve ever seen you again before without realizing it. We could have walked past each other on the street or you could have moved. Or something tragic could have happened or maybe something wonderful happened. You could be dead now or alive, living free. Sometimes it’s nice not knowing. It leaves mystery. It makes me hope that you might think about me as well.
I’ve taken on photography because of you. I like to think it was because of you anyway. I want to capture every moment; I want to capture people’s emotions, feelings, and dreams being played out like a movie but with a single photo that will live forever. What I find fascinating is the way people look when they are lost in thought, when their face becomes livid or serious, when they bite their lip, the way they glance, the way they look down when they walk, when they are alone and smoking a cigarette, when they grin, the way they half smile, the way they try and hold back tears, the way when their face says they want to say something but can’t, the way they look at someone they want or love. I love to photograph that. Not always with a camera either. But forever in my mind. I capture each moment of California in pictures. The sunny beach and the snowy mountains and the people who are enjoying all of this. Maybe this is what I was meant for.
Thank you. Even if it was a simple conversation on a train, it’s impacted my life so this is a letter to you, whoever you are, in tribute to what you’ve done for me.
Maybe you were an angel all along.
Sincerely,
Taylor Warren
(Title: A Stranger on a Train)
242 Holloway Dr.
California 90201
Unknown
Somewhere
Dear boy in The Smiths t-shirt,
I guess I’m one of those people who believe that everything happens for a reason.
Call me a cliché but ever since that day on the train, headed west, it’s impossible to convince me otherwise.
Sure, maybe a bit of traffic during your morning drive to work – or a loss of a loved one is happening for a reason. Fate, if you may.
Maybe that ten minute delay, sitting in your car, honking at the stilled passengers, allowed you to escape from a sudden explosion from a gasoline truck, five minutes away from your destination.
Maybe the loss of your dear, Aunt Sally reconnected you with an old friend or your mom. Or your depression you’ve sunk into has brought you into counseling, your therapist; a young, attractive, single man. You two get married and have two beautiful children.
At certain points in your life you’ll be given a reminder of your purpose of being there. You’ll read something remarkable, see a tragic event, or meet someone. Right away you’ll know it was meant to be there, meant to happen, to serve a purpose and teach a lesson or help you figure out who you are and who you want to be.
Meeting you wasn’t planned but when I looked you in your eyes I knew that every moment I was with you, for that given time on that shaky train, that you were going to change my life and mind in some profound way.
Something will always come out of other things – whether they be good or bad or in this case, completely random. Nothing happens by chance or luck. Bad things and good things happen to test your soul. Without the small tests, life would be so easy, simple, and boring. You’ll never discover yourself and it will be utterly pointless.
Something so small, like meeting you, has become something so incredibly big in my mind. You’ve taught me to live and smile and take chances.
I was running away from home but meeting you lead me right back to the small town.
My mom used to always tell me to never be inhospitable to strangers because they could always be angels in disguise. I’ve never been a really religious person but I’ve always had the hope that this was true; that some strangers could be a guardian angel. I believed that, in this case, that you were one of my angels. An angel dressed in a band t-shirt, The Smiths, and a pair of jeans, and broken in, black combat boots. No visible wings on you but I knew they had to be there.
I sat on the cracked seat in the small cabin on the train. I’ve been saving for over a year for the ticket out of the cruel state, known as Florida. It’s not just Disney World, Orlando, Miami, and Daytona. That’s just the touristy outlook of the place. Most people forget that there are other places, smaller places, full of people. You don’t come all the way down from Ohio to see Umatilla. They go to the stereotypical fun, big, city, full of tanned people, and characters from films.
I hated the small town I was in. The people were dull, the streets were dull, and the buildings were too. Nothing excited me. I felt as if I didn’t belong. I was alone there. I didn’t have any friends and I had no idea what I was doing so I packed up a single backpack with clothing, money, my Polaroid camera, and left. Memories left behind. I didn’t want to look back.
Sitting in silence, I ran my fingers through my hair, and glanced up at you. You were tapping your boot while reading a book titled “It’s Kind of a Funny Story,” and had an earphone hanging out of your left ear. I wondered if he was running away too. Maybe he’s visiting family or going off for a holiday. I think people fail to notice that everyone has a story and I’m always trying to figure them out on my own.
You noticed me and I realized I’ve been staring. I blushed stupidly and panicked internally. I dropped my backpack and it rolled over to your side of the cabin and you picked it up. I think you knew right away that I was running away from home. You didn’t ask though. You just handed the pack back over and smiled, “Seeing family?” I swallowed hard with a frown, “No.” You still didn’t ask where I was off to and why. I was glad you never questioned me. I didn’t know my reasons either other than the fact that I wanted to go away. Far away, to California.
You could probably see the anticipation, fear, excitement all over my face. I was finally escaping from the cruel town, full of cruel people. I think we all have had a dream of wanting to drop everything, start off a new, and run away to California, at least once in our lives – but it doesn’t mean that everyone actually pursues it. I may just be a living, walking cliché because it’s exactly what I was doing. No, I wasn’t one of those teenagers who craved fame and ran off to Hollywood, expecting to “make it big” within the first week there. I also wasn’t going for the warm weather, beaches, or the massive amount of things to do. I wanted to go to California because it’s always appealed to me since I was a child. On television they exaggerated it as being sunny, palm trees on every corner, and the chances of running into at least four stars in one day. But what I liked about it was the versatility. You could be skiing on the mountains, early morning, and be at the beach, by mid-afternoon. It was far enough away to be able to escape from everything and leave it all behind as well. I didn’t really have a plan but I liked it that way. I wanted to pack a bag and be off and do things on my own for once. I didn’t need anyone then.
You took the earphone out and stared intently at me. I was uncomfortable at first but then I shared the stare. You scoffed, “You have no idea what you’re doing, do you?” I was shocked of how easily read I am. It annoyed me a bit but I didn’t think any of it and replied “Who does? Do you know what you’re doing?” You said you didn’t. You said that you loved it, not knowing what was to come. But you also said that you were scared. You told me about your fears and dreams of making it big with music. No the sellout kind but rich, sweet, indie music, played only by acoustics. You wanted to die knowing that you’d be remembered for your lyrics.
Being known for your thoughts and ideas is genuinely remarkable. Your words being repeated by thousands of dreamers much like yourself, is an influence over everything. People can go years without seeing your face but your words make them think. The control of your writing and music can give someone a completely different view on life. I thought that was the most beautiful thing.
I think that inspired me.
You asked, “What do you do?”
“What do I do? I don’t do anything.” I said.
“No, no. Everybody is good at something.”
I thought about this for a moment. I don’t think I was good at anything. I could never sing, play any instrument, or draw. I didn’t know how to do a cartwheel or cook. I wasn’t talented at anything at all. I felt discouraged and you could tell, “Sometimes it takes longer for others to figure out what they’re meant to do. Don’t feel bad.”
I considered this. I was a bit of a nihilistic person. I didn’t think I really had a purpose. But it wasn’t going to stop be from going out to discover it; just as a lack of belief in gravity won’t prevent me from tripping and skinning my knee.
You had a guitar case beneath your seat and I asked for you to play it. You did. I sat back and watched your fingers go at it with the strings. You looked like you belonged with it, like I could no longer see you without it again. We talked a bit more about your music and California and your hometown in Georgia. You said you were going to miss your mom and this girl, Becky. I assumed she was more than ‘just a friend’ while you talked about her. She was the one who encouraged you to go off and live your dreams.
Your confidence irritated me in a way. You were so sure of yourself, no matter how much you said you were scared. Like you were tying rocks to your feet and jumping into the sea, saying goodbye to the world, in search for a new one, but telling everyone you were afraid. If you were so afraid why would you be jumping into the deep water with rocks anchoring you down? Maybe you were, in fact, afraid. Maybe you were just the type of person who took chances in order to change your life and live it the way you want to.
It was getting close to our stop to California but you left me with words I won’t forget,
“You’ve just gotta live one step at a time. Make mistakes, have adventures, drive around for the sole reason of just driving around. Just live the way you want to but don’t let go of the past that made you who you are today. If you can’t find yourself in one place, the only logical thing to do is find another until you find yourself but from each place you go to you will take a little bit from each and it will live throughout you, no matter what you do. Like it will through my music. Just live. “
I picked up my Polaroid camera and snapped a photo of you then. I don’t even think you noticed. I didn’t ask to even take it. I just wanted to. I wanted to remember this day on the train and the fearless boys with dreams bigger than himself, and the boy who inspired me to live.
I still have the picture. The light bent a bit in the corner and reflected on your face. Your dark hair was worn shaggy and messy, your earphones back in your ears, your hands lying across the guitar case on your lap.
When we finally boarded off the train and went our separate ways I realized we never got each other’s names. I wanted to chase after you to ask for it but you disappeared into the station and on your way.
I have no idea where you are in the world now or who you’ve become. I lie awake at night sometimes and wonder if your dreams came true and if I’ve ever seen you again before without realizing it. We could have walked past each other on the street or you could have moved. Or something tragic could have happened or maybe something wonderful happened. You could be dead now or alive, living free. Sometimes it’s nice not knowing. It leaves mystery. It makes me hope that you might think about me as well.
I’ve taken on photography because of you. I like to think it was because of you anyway. I want to capture every moment; I want to capture people’s emotions, feelings, and dreams being played out like a movie but with a single photo that will live forever. What I find fascinating is the way people look when they are lost in thought, when their face becomes livid or serious, when they bite their lip, the way they glance, the way they look down when they walk, when they are alone and smoking a cigarette, when they grin, the way they half smile, the way they try and hold back tears, the way when their face says they want to say something but can’t, the way they look at someone they want or love. I love to photograph that. Not always with a camera either. But forever in my mind. I capture each moment of California in pictures. The sunny beach and the snowy mountains and the people who are enjoying all of this. Maybe this is what I was meant for.
Thank you. Even if it was a simple conversation on a train, it’s impacted my life so this is a letter to you, whoever you are, in tribute to what you’ve done for me.
Maybe you were an angel all along.
Sincerely,
Taylor Warren
(Title: A Stranger on a Train)