Time, Trains, and Tunnels
You damn near crash onto the train car’s grab handle, panting. Glance at the station’s scratched, seldom cleaned clock, its minute hand is nay a hair’s breadth away from striking the thirty-minute mark. Climb aboard as soon as you catch your breath. No reserved seating, any empty bench is fair game. Find one on the left. As soon as you drop into it, the conductor blows his whistle and steam hisses from the locomotive’s undercarriage as its pistons work to pull the consist forward.
You made it, not a moment sooner. Panting and huffing almost harder than the locomotive, you lean against the open window frame and let your heavy eyelids settle.
“Excuse me, mister! Tickets please!” The conductor’s stern voice jolts you awake. Your hands roam your pockets faster than your brain regains its bearings, finding the small piece of paper after passing the same pocket thrice. “H–Here you go, conductor. Pardon me.”
The conductor’s wrinkled cheeks tug up as he smirks, checking your ticket and stamping it. “I saw you scramble to this train like your tail’s on fire.” He hands your ticket back with a soft chuckle. “What’s a young fella like you in such a hurry for in that quiet little town anyways?”
You squint and rub your face, peering at the outside. “How far along has the train gotten, sir?” He flips his pocket watch open, clicking his tongue at the same frequency as the second hand. “We just passed the Lorraine Tunnel. Albrecht Tunnel is…fifteen kilometers.”
You nod. “How about the next stop?”
“That’ll be Darmstadt am Gelbbach, four kilometers after the Albrecht—you didn’t answer my question, mister,” he tilts his head, closing his watch. “Oh, do forgive me. What was the question? I…I didn’t catch it.”
The conductor sighs and lowers himself next to you, bracing on the front bench. “What exactly had you running like the devil himself was on your tail? Seven years I worked this line. Never seen anyone done that. Not in that quiet little town.” You shift in your seat as you process his question. He chuckles gently, raising his hand. “Excuse me if I come off as prying. I am merely curious.”
You rub your hands together. Lower your head, your lips weakly curving in the opposite direction. “Well, last night’s drinking didn’t do my schedule any favors, firstly. But uh, I…one could say I was fleeing from my own devils, sir.”
“Hm. Weighted answer for a young man. Something you could share with me, mister?”
You look towards his face. His shaded wrinkles carry history, likely as long as you’ve been alive. A history you don’t wish to pile yours onto, not right now. “No sir, it is not. Forgive me.”
The conductor bursts out laughing, stirring a few other passengers in their sleep. “No need to apologize for that, mister. We’re entitled to our privacy in this here country.” He rises from the seat, straightening his faded blue jacket. “Well, I’ll leave you to your own devices. May you escape those…devils of yours.” He tips his hat and starts walking away, then stops and turns around after two paces. “Or perhaps…they’re something you need to stop for,” he remarks quietly, almost to himself. “Safe travels, mister. Good day.” He turns around and walks again before you could reply.
Your head rests on the window frame again, trying to catch more sleep. Your eyes drift to the carriage’s interior lighting and scoff. The recent war means oil supply routes are still disrupted, be it crude oil or whale oil. This carriage was just retrofitted for oil lamps before the war, and now it’s back to candles.
“That cursed war. All for what? Three long years for a morsel of land in the northeast?” Your nails dig into the old varnished wood. Your gazing is interrupted by the glint of an old businessman’s silver ring, pointing towards the landscape while muttering something to what seems to be his wife. Or mistress.
“No, no, certainly not. It's the coin. It always comes back to the coin. Those greedy, snivelling sycophants we call businessmen will do anything for the damn things.” You fish out your wallet from your jacket’s inner pocket. Pull out a wrinkled banknote, stare at it, squinting. “Just how do you yield such power?”
You fold it between your fingers, resting your elbow on the window. “The power to raze lands, sink ships, take…” Breath catches in your throat, images flashing as a stark reminder. “Take away families. Men. Wives. Children.” Your eyes scan the cabin, spotting the few ladies travelling onboard. One sits at the very front right, next to the gangway.
She isn’t as covered as the others, long silky hair flowing freely over her shoulders. Clothing’s pristine white. Thin, too. Seems like her skin is visible through the fabric. You raise a brow, murmur to yourself. “Now what are you doing wearing that in winter? All the mud and cold must be a right bother for—” The lady turns her head, exposing her side profile. Your blood drops several degrees, shifting backwards in your seat.
“No…no, that—can’t be. Not…I must be mistaken.” Caught between avoidance and curiosity, you lean back and angle your head at the same time, trying to get a better look at the woman. “Wandering willows! Doyeon? Kim Doyeon?” Mouth babbles silence, fingers mapping wrinkles on your pants. Something caught in your throat and you cough loudly, tapping your chest.
The lady looks over entirely upon hearing it, her face displayed in full. You yelp and duck behind the front bench, hunching over. “No…how? How could she possibly end up…all the way out here?”
You spend the next several minutes tucked behind the front bench, peeking out once the train approaches the tunnel. Flinch back down. She seems to be frozen in that last position. The train enters the Albrecht tunnel and you feel a great wind upon you. Its strength is uncanny, blowing around loose dirt, papers and cloths. The cabin is plunged into darkness as the candles are blown out. And then it feels like your consciousness is being blown away as well, eyelids falling against your will, the deafening thrash of wind fading away…
“Excuse me, mister! Tickets please!” The conductor’s voice jolts you awake. You look around, you’re back to leaning against the open window. Brain isn’t hazy like it usually is after a nap. “Didn’t—” Throat is dry. “Did you not check my ticket sometime ago, sir?”
The conductor grumbles. “No sir, I did not. I left you for last ‘cause I didn’t wish to disturb your slumber. But I gotta check your ticket eventually, don’t I?” He chuckles and extends his palm. You find the ticket right away, seeing that it doesn’t have the conductor’s stamp. He takes it and gives it one.
“I saw you scramble to this train like your tail’s on fire.” He hands your ticket back with a soft chuckle. “What’s a young fella like you in such a hurry for in that quiet little town anyways?”
“Wh—” That question again. Didn’t you go through this already? Was that a dream? Didn’t feel like a dream. You remember it like it was mere minutes ago. “I…it’s not something I’m comfortable sharing as of yet, sir. Forgive me.”
The conductor laughs. “No need to apologize for that, mister. We’re entitled to our privacy in this here country.” He adjusts his hat and straightens his faded blue jacket. “Well, I’ll leave you to your own dev—”
“Wait! Where…where are we, conductor? How far along have we gotten?”
He flips his pocket watch open, clicking his tongue at the same frequency as the second hand. “We just passed the Lorraine Tunnel. Albrecht Tunnel is…fifteen kilometers.”
Your brows furrow, breath hangs heavy. “How about the next stop?”
“That’ll be Darmstadt am Gelbbach, four kilometers after the Albrecht. Plenty of time until your stop, mister. Get some shut-eye. I can wake you up if you wish?”
You look out the window. You’re not terribly familiar with the landscape, but it does seem like the same one you passed. “No need, sire. Thank you.”
He nods. “Very well. Anything else I can help you with, mister?”
There is something. It’s right on the tip of your tongue. What is it? “No, sir. Have a good day.”
“Likewise, mister. Safe travels.” He tips his hat and walks away. Your eyes follow him all the way to the front gangway and there she is. Same spot. Same questionably thin and pearly layers. Same…unmistakable spitting image of Kim Doyeon.
Keep your flappy mouth shut this time. Look away, don’t acknowledge her. Don’t acknowledge it. Act like nothing is out of order. “Just…coincidences. That’s it.” A glint from the front catches your eye. That same old businessman with the silver ring, pointing towards the landscape while muttering something to his lady companion of unclear relation. You swallow a dry gulp. “Disturbingly aligned…coincidences. But coincidences nonetheless. What did that N’dhia priest say that time? Dreams are windows into other worlds? Oh, wandering willows! Shut up, man!”
And you do. Head locked towards the landscape, which eventually gives way to the hills which the Albrecht Tunnel cuts through. The locomotive’s smokestack enters, steam puffs up behind it, then your carriage enters.
Winds surge through the interior again, not the sort that tunnels cause. Not this strong and loud. Not in this weather. Various light objects get blown around again. The candles blown out, cabin plunged into darkness. “No, no, no…” And your eyes. Your eyes grow heavy and begin shutting, ferrying away your consciousness despite your best efforts to will it still. The winds fade out, your body feels light—
“Excuse me, mister! Tickets please!”
You awake with an exasperated whine. “What on earth is happening?” You pant, eyes bouncing around.
“Well, as the conductor it is my duty to check your legitimacy as a passenger—”
“Oh, for—not that!” Your lash at the conductor turns a few heads towards you. Hers included? Don’t know, not looking. “Forgive me, sir. Here you go.” Your hands move on muscle memory at this point. He scrutinizes you for a moment before stamping the ticket.
“I saw—”
“Are you going to say something about me scrambling to this train like my tail’s on fire?”
He lets out a hum. “As a matter of fact, I was. Verbatim.” His eyes squint as he leans in slightly. You cut him off just as he reopens his mouth, “And…and, what about, um. Where are we? How far has the train gotten?”
The conductor leans back and opens his pocket watch. “We just passed the Lorraine Tunnel. Albrecht Tunnel is…”
“Fifteen kilometers. Nearest stop is Darmstadt am Gelbbach, four kilometers after it,” you murmur, completing the sentence in the conductor’s cadence. He scoffs, closing his watch and resting his elbow on the front bench. “By the Lord.” Leans in closer, his voice just enough to reach you. “You read minds, mister?”
You exhale a tight breath, your leg trembling. “No sir, I do not. Merely…confirming something.”
The conductor hangs for a bit before standing straight, adjusting his hat. “Well, I sincerely hope you received your…confirmation, mister. Safe travels.” He turns away and walks a few paces before you once again interrupt him.
“Wait! Wait, I–I need to ask something else, sir.”
He sighs and turns around slowly, his lips stretched. “Another one of your confirmations, mister?”
“No. No, I truly must ask you something.”
He puts away his stamp. “What is it?”
You crane your head around him, getting a better view of the front. “Where did that lady in white board get on?”
The conductor looks behind him for several seconds, scanning it and glancing at you a few times. “What lady in white?”
You click your tongue and point at her seat. “That lady in white. Whiter than the northern snow. Right upfront, sat next to the gangway.”
“Mister…” He pinches the bridge of his nose, sighing. “As much as I try to be of service, entertaining your pranks falls beyond my responsibilities.”
“No! This is no prank, I swear! Is there not a lady in white sitting there?”
“No, sir. There is none. Or anybody, for that matter. Seat’s been empty since we set off all the way back in Port Carrilho.”
A quivering breath escapes you, your legs bouncing harder. “Th–thank you, conductor. Good day.” He continues his walk, pauses near the seat to look it over. Not five seconds pass before he shrugs it off, truly seeming to not see anybody in that seat. Even when you see her clear as day.
You keep your eyes on her. She turns her head, first partly, then faces you squarely. It sends the same shiver down your spine, but this time you’re transfixed. Her lips curve up into a full smile, though not reaching her eyes. You remain like that for the subsequent minutes. Frozen, staring, mind galloping in so many different directions it comes up blank. The tunnel comes and the candles are blown out. The cycle restarts.
Same line, same wake up. You gently bar off any and all curious inquiry from the conductor, sticking to the bare necessities of exchanges. Sure enough, there she is again. You realize this will keep happening. Again and again and again, until you do something about it. Only one direction to go.
You know. You tell yourself that. But you don’t move. Shift in your seat, sliding all over the place. Arms and legs tremble now, briefly inviting the curiosity of the passenger right in front of you. Takes so long for you to finally progress that the tunnel’s fast approaching by the time you’re on your feet. Two long, tense steps in and it’s over. Candles out, start again.
This rinse and repeat continues, each time you cover more distance. They’re small increments, the carriage’s shaking of no help. The last four meters though, you’re way too frustrated to hesitate. Make a mad dash, stopping just in front of the gangway. Clench your fists hard and turn around slowly, a miniscule sliver of hope hanging by a thread. Hope that she’ll be gone and this was all an agonizingly long and convoluted dream.
“D–Doyeon?” Your voice comes out coarser than the railroad’s old ballasts.
She’s right there. Up close. Surreal. Her red lips curve up just a bit further. “Hello, darling.” That is indeed Doyeon’s voice. But there’s something off about it you can’t grasp. You can tell, even after over three years of not hearing it.
Now you look her down, something in general isn’t quite right. Slick, voluminous black hair frames her sharp features. Makeup that enhances them further, she looks like a damn aristocrat. You’ve never seen Doyeon like this. Never had the money to.
“Well? Are you going to…stand there for the entire journey?” She points with her chin and pats the spot next to her. “Come, sit.”
You keep your eyes on Doyeon as you sheepishly approach the seat. Her attire is practically the exact opposite of her luxurious getup above the shoulder. A simple corset covers her chemise. Below it a pair of drawers, not covered by a petticoat. All very basic, very clean.
“How do you do?” she says casually.
Your mouth’s gone dry, lubricate it first. “Wh…did—how are you here, Doyeon? And…why are you in these?” Your arms reach out by instinct, trying to cover her. She crosses her legs, cancelling that reaction. “What do you mean why?”
“Look how thin these are! You get cold easily, and these are utterly inappropriate for travel! Nowhere beyond the bed is this…appropriate.” Your heart drops again. This attire is no mistake, it is the spitting image of what Doyeon wore that night. The night you left.
“You…you’re not Kim Doyeon, are you?” You slide away from her in your seat, back against the window. “Who are you? What are you? What have you done to me? To this train? Why do events keep repeating?”
Doyeon’s smile shrinks to a bare semblance of one as she looks forward, sighing. “You are asking the wrong questions, darling.” She turns to face you again. Despite her expression unchanging, the air it carries is different. “The only questions to be asked are for yourself. Regarding what happened between you and this woman.” You recoil as she shifts closer. “So ask away,” she whispers.
“I haven’t the foggiest idea what you mean by that.”
Doyeon chuckles, stretching her arms and legs to occupy as much space as possible which makes you shrink. “Oh, you know. You know it very well, darling. You always have. And yet…” she trails off.
You’re further agitated. Insides feel like they go in two different directions. Conscious you wants to keep protesting. Subconscious you hears her, he does have an inkling as to what she’s referring to, but not quite courageous enough to communicate.
It ultimately results in nil, just squinting with your mouth hung open. Doyeon claps her hand and rolls her eyes, sitting up straight. “Very well. I’ll get us started. Gone through these cycles enough, haven’t you?” She licks her lip and begins, “Why did you leave?”
And we’re off. “I…it. It was…”
“Avoid any embellishments. Why did you leave this woman? At twilight, without a word?”
Deep breaths. Annoyance rises within you, even as its presence is well understood. “It wasn’t—I left a letter.”
“You left a letter,” she mocks. “Any literate fellow might as well have written her that letter.”
“Are you—” Heat rises in your chest. “Is that what all this is about? Punishment for my ignorance that evening? Curse me to be confined to this train, never to see another twilight?”
“Ugh, you keep doing that,” she growls. “You asked for this, you know.”
“What?!” You’re properly angry now. “Asked for this, how? What do I keep doing? You are not providing any clarity to all this!”
“Don’t deny it.” Her voice is much calmer than yours yet carries more authority. “You’ve thought about it often. So much that your way of thinking has resorted to it.”
“Resorted to what? You’re not making any—”
“Resorted to groveling at your hardships, not making the adequate effort. Wishing that somehow, sometime, somewhere…” She takes a breath. “A sudden savior will appear. With keys to all your exact problems.”
Doyeon’s right on the mark, your chest taking a jab. “It’s…” You sigh. “You’re right.”
“And now you have that divine intervention you’ve so begged for. Whoever sent me is either immensely beneficent…or fed up.”
You scoff. “Perhaps both.”
“Perhaps.” Her expression softens. “So think, Artur Noronha. Is this truly a curse for you?”
You exchange only looks before she resumes, “Don’t answer that. Answer the first question instead. Why did you leave her?”
“I was…anxious. Afraid,” you answer in the next cycle as the previous ended with a long silence after her question.
“Afraid of what?”
“Of not being able to provide for her.” Your hands quiver hard. “The war was looming over our heads, and…I’d already made multiple unwise decisions by that point.”
Doyeon nods slowly. “What sort of ‘unwise decisions’?”
“The sort that would debilitate us if they kept occurring. So I…took initiative.” She visibly recoils, her face crunching. “Initiative?”
“Yes. There was this…wealthy family near our home. They had been coveting Doyeon for their son for…well, about as long as we’d settled there.”
She gasps. “So what, you sold her to them?”
“Wandering willows, no! She was not a slave!” you retort. “I merely…suggested it to her. Or pushed for it, rather.”
“Wait, just—” Doyeon holds up her hand. “You told your lover, to her face, that you would prefer she be with another man? Because of his wealth?”
“No—well, I didn’t utter it directly.”
“Oh dear.”
“I…alluded to it in conversation. And wrote it in the letter.” Your voice shrinks with every word.
“Gods above,” Doyeon murmurs in apparent horror.
“I know! I am a fool, a coward!” You grab your hair with both hands. “It has haunted me ever since. No need to parrot it for me.”
Doyeon sighs, hands running through her hair. “There lies your problem.”
You scoff, looking out the window. “Tell me something I didn’t know.”
“You are no fool nor coward, Noronha,” she states firmly. It catches you off-guard, head snapping to face her. “I beg your pardon?”
You hear wheels squealing a moment later, accompanied by a loud hiss as the train grounds to a rapid halt. You look around in confusion, but not as long as the other passengers. “Did you cause this?”
“Not myself, no.” Doyeon brushes her chest. The conductor appears and is immediately bombarded with questions.
“Please calm down, ladies and gentlemen. We have a technical issue with the brakes. Our engineer is working to resolve it as we speak. Please, sit down.” That was enough to assure most passengers, a few still moaning but not towards the conductor. “These damn new pneumatics. Whatever happened to brakemen?” you hear him grumble as he walks past.
Doyeon paid no attention to any of this discourse, staying on you. “Anyhow, you heard me right. You are no fool nor coward.”
“But…you said my problem lies therein!”
“Not that you are either of those things.”
You stammer and sigh, rubbing your face with both hands. “I do not follow.”
“Look at me.” You do, shoulders slumped. Doyeon shifts closer still. You don’t move away. “No coward is able to fend for himself as well as you did for the past three years. No fool is able to avoid the draft by expertly making himself an indispensable worker, like you did.”
You shake your head, not replying. She continues. “Do you understand? Those actions were courageous, ingenious. Yet do you consider yourself to be a genius? A warrior?”
“No.” Your lips twitch.
“Exactly. You committed acts of great persistence and intelligence, but do not define yourself as either. So why…” She reaches for your hand, the latter flinching before settling under her cold palm. “ …do you define yourself by the foolish, cowardly acts you had committed?”
You look at her hands, they feel the exact same as your Doyeon’s did. “I think…I understand what you mean.”
Doyeon grins, smile reaching her eyes now. “We will trust you on that. ”
You chuckle, heart feeling warm for the first time in this journey. “So…what—oh!” The train jolts as it starts moving again, its whistle soaring through the landscape. “Marvelous. So what…what’s next for me?”
Doyeon stretches her free arm, yawning. “That’s on you to decide. What is next for Artur Noronha?” She tilts her head side-to-side, clicking her tongue. “Alright, fine. Do you still love this woman?”
Your eyes feel warm as well, tears welling. Take a deep breath. “Yes.”
“Enough to resist resorting to labels, to make the effort towards bringing her back into your life?”
“Yes. Yes, and yes.” Another deep breath. “It will be difficult though, won't it? Haven’t the foggiest where she is, or what she is doing today. Wandering willows.”
“It will. Because it matters.”
“Hm?” You raise a brow.
“It will be difficult because it matters.”
“Interesting.” You groan and bury your face in your palms, anxiety rising from the challenges ahead. “Ugh, will she welcome me again after I left her like that? What if she’s been harboring vengeance? Or worse, will she even acknowledge me? These—”
“Hey.” Doyeon snaps her fingers. “Do you read minds or something?”
You lower your hands and scoff. “That’s the second time someone’s asked me today. No, no I don’t.”
“Perhaps you are familiar with the concept of ‘telepathy’?”
“Telepathy? No, never heard of such a thing. Why are you asking all this?”
“So you do understand there are no means to know what Kim Doyeon thinks of you presently, let alone have reign over it?”
“I—” Something inside clicks. “No, there are none.”
“Then there we are.” She claps her hands. “You restrain, resign, undermine your own abilities over the possibility that she holds animosity. Disregarding the possibility that things will go well.”
“But…I have wronged her badly in the past—”
“Is that the present? The future? Is it?!” she snarls.
“The—” You sigh and whine. “No.”
“Then stop fussing about it!” She taps your shoulder. “This vengeful imagery you conjure of hers is nothing more than a projection of your own insecurities!”
“Huh.” You were about to say something, but started giggling instead, becoming more tickled by the second.
“What’s so funny?” she asks, eyes wide.
“You sounded—” Burst out laughing now. “You speak more eloquently than she did, but when you said stop fussing you sounded exactly like her!”
Doyeon smirks and scoffs, punching your arm lightly. “Look at you. All smitten when she enters your mind, even now. Still not worth embarking on the challenging journey?”
“Oh, she absolutely is.” You hum, arm raised to brush aside a tuft of hair on this Doyeon’s face. It does nothing to her, expression unchanging. On your end, welled up tears begin to fall.
“Now I remember, we were amorous far more than we were hostile. Conflicts were resolved amicably.” You shake your head, half-sobbing half-laughing. “Conjuring these awful ideas truly was…foolish.”
Doyeon caresses your cheek with her hand, the only thing different from your Doyeon being the lack of warmth on her palm. “I am satisfied you understand. My task here is done.”
You sniffle and nod, letting her go. She lets you go also. “Thank you. From the bottom of my heart. Please deliver my gratitude to…whoever sent you here.”
“Show us with your actions,” she giggles, sitting more relaxed. “Many men don’t receive such…otherwordly opportunities. Use it well.”
Exhale and wipe your tears, nodding firmly. “I will. For me, and for her.”
Doyeon exhales as well, glancing at you with a small smile. “Farewell, Artur Noronha. Safe travels.”
“Farewell.”
The train reaches the Albrecht Tunnel. The wind isn’t as intense as it was all those cycles ago, its strength more inline with what you’ve experienced with tunnels. Some particles get caught in your eye, shut them and rub it away. When they’re open, she’s gone, vanished with no traces whatsoever.
Emerging out the other side, you leap to your feet, searching for the conductor. Find him one two cars ahead, observing the coupler to the locomotive. “Conductor?”
“Ah, what brings you out here, mister? Anything I can help you with?” he asks, surprised but warm.
“Am I allowed to disembark before the station on my ticket?”
He furrows his brows and hums. “Well, there is nothing prohibiting it, to my knowledge. But why would you do such a thing, mister? It’s a loss to you and your coin. A particularly great loss with how far your station is.”
You smile and nod, perusing the rolling landscape. “I have a different train to catch, as it turns out.”
“Is that so? Where to? I could be of assistance in that regard.”
You laugh freely. “No idea.”
Steam hisses from the pistons, whistle blares as the train pulls out of Darmstadt am Gelbbach. “I wish you an expedient journey, mister! Godspeed!” the conductor yells over the noise, waving his hat.
You return waves and a bright smile, watching the cars go by. The locomotive’s chugs and puffs grow distant, rolling towards the horizon. Look down at your feet, then up in the other direction. “I will return to you, my dear. Whatever it takes. However it ends.” The first steps of many are made, echoing in the quiet station.
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