Inhumanity

1. Into Darkness

1

INTO DARKNESS

I awoke in the sleeping compartment, still not sure of anything that had happened over the past few days. The bumping of the boxcar along the tracks, the sounds of the world racing by as we barreled down the tracks, the darkness that surrounded the car was never-ending. Another sleepless night and all I could wish for was the inevitable rising of the sun. If I could not rest with efficiency, then I would wait for the morning to come. This particular car of the train was reserved for only the wealthiest clients. The mahogany walls with their lavish gold light fixtures seemed to only add to the restlessness of my mind. The bed, if it could be called such, was a very thin mattress outlined in a mahogany shell, the base supported on the floor by seemingly crude bolts. I had supposed that there was no way to hide the fixture, for it was ever important to the stability of the bed. No expense was spared for my travel as I was an honored guest of the rail line’s owner, Mr. Bertram. Mr. Bertram had been an important client of the Northeast Bank, and I had honored him with my efficiency as his personal banker for years. In fact, if I had not taken that deal, I would still be an apprentice, waiting hand and foot on some stuffy man with crude tastes, just wishing to make money and for nothing else.

Years passed and I felt more and more discomfort at the hands of the master banker, Mr. Taveshy. Though he appreciated the help and rightfully needed it, he was a very crude and unpleasant man, never allowing any apprentice the joy of closing a deal or helping a client with an investment deal. All apprentices only filed paperwork and sorted papers on their clients. Every day that passed, I always wondered about any of that time wasted upon monotonous paperwork.

Even though it seemed a waste of time, I still loved the opportunity to meet the new clients. I knew that one day I would get the chance to take on an office of my own and broker deals just as Master Taveshy had done. It was Mr. Taveshy’s misfortune that he stepped out one afternoon to talk to a few attractive patrons when Mr. Bertram walked into the building. He carried himself like a man with the world in the palm of his hand, a man who knew what he wanted and achieved his goals by any means necessary. With his charcoal-black top hat and his fancy gold pocket watch, he was a man to be honored and thanked for the money that he would bring to our bank. I sat casually behind Mr. Taveshy’s desk scripting orders for other clients on the ledger paper. He looked at me with reserve as if he knew that I could not possibly be Master Taveshy. I was but a young man of eighteen years. I had barely begun my career. Mr. Bertram looked around the upper bank offices and noticed that I was the only person there, besides himself, of course. He strolled into the office and gently rapped on the door. I looked at him with a smile, arose, and shook his sturdy hand. “Good day, sir. My name is Mr. Price,” I said. “How may I help you today?”

Mr. Bertram met my smile with a hearty laugh and, with a booming voice, said, “My name is Mr. Bertram. I would like to invest money into your bank.”

“Well, Mr. Bertram, come in and have a seat. Let me grab some fresh ledger paper and I will start a file for you, sir.” I rushed to clear the papers from the desk.

Mr. Bertram just sat there looking perfectly intent to wait. I slid the drawer open, gently removing five fresh sheets of ledger paper. I carefully wrote out Mr. Bertram’s personal information, placing elegant lettering in each space. Each line had to be written carefully to make sure that nothing was left to the imagination. The lines of numbers went on and on as I had to track all that was being written on the ledger. I then started calculating the full amount of interest as well as the full amount of the final investment. I provided Mr. Bertram with only the best information on his investment. I then placed the ledger in a seal with the official bank name. Mr. Bertram waited patiently as I continued to calculate each detail and to write it subsequently on the ledger. Everything had to be tracked and written in its own space.

Once I had written out the ledger and begun calculating each item, Mr. Bertram asked, “Well, son, you seem to have a keen aptitude for this work.”

“Yes, sir,” I said. “The hours are long, but with a keen mind anyone can perform my exact duties.”

Mr. Bertram laughed energetically and pulled a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe his forehead.

I finished the calculation and signed the document. “Mr. Bertram, would you look over the ledger and confirm that it is to your satisfaction?”

He read the ledger in its entirety, only scoffing at one item.

“Is there something wrong, sir?” I asked.

“No, sir, but I do have an issue with the interest.”

“Very well, what is the issue?”

“I was under the impression that the interest would be greater for an amount this large.”

“Oh yes, sir, it is a greater amount,” I stated. “With the current amount of maximum interest that can be accrued, this amount of money would be complimented with a five percent interest.”

“Very well, if that is the maximum interest that can be given, I will take the ledger to be final.”

“Very good, sir!” I jubilantly said. “Then I shall file this ledger and get your money into the safe downstairs. Please, if you would follow me.” I led Mr. Bertram out of the office and down the stairs to the vault itself. I turned the dial to the correct series of numbers and unlocked the latch. I pushed the latch hard at first to slide it out of its normally permanent position. “Mr. Bertram, would you be so kind as to come to the back of the safe and place your money into a deposit box?”

Mr. Bertram stated, “It would be my pleasure to do so, sir.”

“Thank you,” I replied. I took Mr. Bertram to the back of the vault and opened the deposit box for him. Mr. Bertram then cautiously placed his money into the deposit box. I quickly resealed the deposit box with the key and placed it on the corresponding shelf. “Thank you for your investment, Mr. Bertram,” I said emphatically.

“I am sure that it will be well taken care of, young sir.”

I replied, “Yes, sir, it will be safe with us.” I led Mr. Bertram to the front of the bank and shook his hand strongly. “Have a good day, sir, and safe travels to you.”

Mr. Bertram smiled and said, “Yes, sir! And you do the same!”

When he walked out of the door, Mr. Taveshy approached me, exclaiming, “What have you been up to, apprentice?”

I turned to Mr. Taveshy and said, “I have performed my duties as I should have, sir.”

At this statement, Mr. Taveshy flew into a rage and stomped upstairs, proclaiming, “Never shall an apprentice show me up! I will have your job, young man!” I waited patiently at the bottom of the stairs for Mr. Taveshy to return. When he finally came loping down the stairs with his belongings, he looked at me with hatred in his eyes. “Fools, women and you men pretentious as you in this profession frustrate me to no end! You all think that you can do whatever you like, but I am the master banker here!” With that Mr. Taveshy stormed past me, shoving me out of his way. “I quit!” he exclaimed.

Every soul in the office stared at him as he stormed across the street and into the bar. We all found this to be very humorous. A few days later I was named the master banker of the branch.

The previously mentioned investment led me to a career as a master banker. I did not, however, treat my apprentices any such way as Mr. Taveshy had to my fellow apprentices and me. Mr. Taveshy did, in the most unreasonable way, end his career after that deal was finished. Mr. Bertram liked my style of presentation so much as to completely disregard Mr. Taveshy as the master banker. When Master Taveshy realized that he had not been included in the deal, he objected by attempting to burn the bank to the ground later that day. The result was my being placed as the master banker and he was placed in jail. Though my career has had many accomplishments, I never knew in any capacity that one day I would broker such a deal as the Morrison deal.

A wealthy merchant by the name of Calvin Morrison started the deal by request through one of his many secretaries. This secretary, Mr. Johnston, came to my office to inquire about a deal that could be struck with our bank. The investment would consist of an unusually large sum of money being placed in the exclusive care of the Northeast Bank. When I heard these words, I calmly but swiftly began to write an outline of the conditions of the deal. Upon hearing and subsequently writing the terms of the contract, I had no choice but to accept the terms of the deal. The outline of the investment was to place two million dollars into a deposit account to draw interest over a period of ten years. The interest on this transaction alone would be enough to operate the bank in its entire need.

After some terms were laid out, Mr. Johnston stated, “I do believe, my good man, that we have a deal. Mr. Morrison will be by in a few days to sign and register the transaction in full with a cash sum of two million dollars.”

I had no choice but to say, “Mr. Johnston, I would be honored to receive your employer merrily on that day.”

Mr. Johnston ended on, “Good, Mr. Price, the deal shall be finalized in four days. Thank you for your time, Mr. Price.”

“Likewise, Mr. Johnston,” I replied. With that, Mr. Johnston left the bank and leaped aboard a small coach awaiting his return just beyond the door of the bank. I quickly scurried back to my desk and read the terms once more. I was astonished at the amount that was to be deposited for the bank to have in its vault. It was an enormous amount of money of which I had never previously seen. I could only baffle at how this merchant, Mr. Morrison, had come across this much money. And to that thought, how would he be willing to trust our bank with such a large amount? I quickly signed off on the ledger after calculating a few figures. The deal would be the largest that the Northeast Bank had ever seen. Immediately the paperwork was neatly filed in Mr. Morrison’s personal registration account. After which I quickly collected my coat from its rest on the coat rack and hastily shut the door to my office on the way out. The door slammed with a thud, causing most everyone to look at me with reserve as though I was enraged. I quickly gave them a smile and said, “Good day! I shall see you all tomorrow!” I rushed down the stairs and walked out the door. I had the feeling that could only be found in the company of a good woman—a seeming release of all the recent frustrations that I had faced.

The day was gray with a slight smell of moisture. Most had already outfitted themselves with these coats to protect from the rain. I did not, however, bother with any such thing. I briskly strolled across the street to the bar. I burst through the door and with a quick look at the bartender said, “Good day, sir! I would like the best scotch that you can offer in an ornate glass, please!”

The bartender looked at me with excitement, as of a king arriving at a house of peasants. I do not hold myself in such reserve, however, but it was nice to see his enthusiasm at my request. The bartender yelled, “Yes, sir! I shall have it to you in the second!”

I quickly responded, “Thank you, sir! I shall not forget your pleasant haste!”

The bartender quickly grabbed the bottle of his finest scotch and poured it into a blue-tinted ornate glass. It seemed as if the man had found a new love of the day. He accented the glass with a slight flavor of vanilla, as of an elegant touch to a magnificent drink. The bartender rushed out from the bar and ran quickly up the small steps to my side. He placed the drink in my hand and proclaimed, “If you don’t mind my asking, what is your name, good sir?”

I stated that my name was Mr. Benjamin Price and that I was a master banker at the Northeast Bank across the street. To this, he replied, “Well, sir, it was nice to make your acquaintance. You are welcome here any time, and please let me know if you need anything else.”

I smiled slightly and said, “Yes, sir, I will. Thank you very much!” I sat in peace and sipped on my scotch. I thought about the day and the amazing turn of events that had brought me to the present moment. Each sip of scotch was more delicious than the last. It brought a fire in my stomach that burned like the excitement that I was currently experiencing. All the hard work that I had undertaken prior to this moment had finally paid off in full. I was to be one of the most successful bankers in all of the Americas.

I sat back in my seat, reveling in my success. I could finally relax in the face of all the previous day’s trials. My mind raced with all the wealth I was about to acquire, the scotch smoothing each thought into perfection. I could not think of anything but finally purchasing my own company. I had longed to be an entrepreneur since I was an early child. Nothing had given me greater satisfaction than to receive requests and to deliver packages neatly wrapped in silver bows and colorful paper to my clients, to assist my customers in purchasing the many items that I had to offer. This was my fondest dream. I had begun to act upon this dream when I found my interest in accounting and banking at the university. I had enrolled for a hefty sum of money paid on debt to my honor with the Northeast Bank. When I spoke with the banker at the time, Mr. Willows, he took a great interest in my aptitude for numbers. Mathematics, he had called it, was of interest to me. No successful businessman could ever hope to deal with large numbers without mathematics. I immediately seized upon the opportunity to be employed for a tidy sum so as to pay my debts while taking courses in business and accounting at the university. Nothing had made me more proud to see all my hard work pay off.

I sat there thinking of the merriment that I would engage in every day after the finalizing of this deal, drinking the expensive scotch, the taste of smoking the finest cigars; the true mark of a wealthy master banker was to show his wealth with expensive tastes. It all seemed so relaxing until the bartender quietly strode up to my side. “Would you like more, Mr. Price?”

I sat up in the chair. “Why, yes, I would, my good man!” He gave a pleasant smile as he poured the smooth liquid into my glass. I smiled at him, saying, “Thank you, sir, but what is your name? I am quite sorry that I was not polite enough to ask earlier.”

He said, “Oh, Banneker, sir. Alfred Banneker!”

“Well, Alfred,” I said, “thank you for your hospitality!”

“Oh, it was my pleasure, Mr. Price!” He finished pouring my drink and briskly walked behind the counter to attend to the other customers.

I drank a small sip of scotch, noticing a man with a somber look on his face entering the bar. He looked like a delivery man, carrying hundreds of letters in his bag. He walked with a gait that suggested he was in a hurry, but still somber. I saw him walk to my table. I started thinking, What could this man want? He approached my table and said, “Mr. Price?”

“Yes, sir,” I replied.

“I have a letter for you. It was addressed in the most urgent manner.”

“Oh! Thank you,” I replied.

He looked at me for a moment and then walked out the door that he had entered the bar through. I could not understand what had just happened. I did not know if I was to receive news of grave proportions or simply receive a notice from the bank itself. I looked at the front of the letter and read the sender’s location.

“North Carolina?” I whispered. “Who could have written me from North Carolina?” I quickly realized that it must be from my extended family. I immediately opened the letter.

“Dear Benjamin Price,

My name is Percy Merivel. I am writing you this letter on behalf of your aunt Caroline. I regret to say that your aunt has taken sick and is getting worse every day. She is being kept comfortable, but the doctor does not know if she will recover. Please, Benjamin. Come to visit your aunt with all haste. She has been asking for you by name. I am sorry that I am writing you now, but it took me a few days to find your address and get the letter in order. Please visit as soon as you can.

Sincerely, Percy.”

I could not understand. My aunt had been doing so well. She had never had a sickness that would warrant this kind of haste. In that moment I realized that my day had been shattered. I could not fathom that my aunt would have fallen ill without my knowledge until this time. How could this be? I had written her last month, and she had replied very quickly to me. I felt as though I had lost my joy. I sat there staring at the glass with my scotch. I put the glass to my lips and took a sip. What once had contained a spicy liquid of celebration now contained a sinister hint of misery. I drank little by little, remembering what it had been like to visit my aunt. She was sweet to me when I was a child. I would go to North Carolina to escape the harsh winters as a youth. My mother would take me in a carriage that my father had built. We would ride all the way from Massachusetts to Hillsborough, North Carolina. The trip would take many weeks, so we would start our journey at the end of the growing season. My mother would leave my sister to care for my father and tend to the preparation of his meals.

I seldom would go on this journey, however, because of the poverty of our family as farmers, and also because of my father needing every available member of my family to help with the harvest. At that time the years were harsh to our crops, causing them to yield far less than needed to survive the winter and make money for the things that we needed. The summers would be cool with a good amount of rainfall. The air was cold yet and would cause anything that grew to lose its crop. My father every summer would continuously curse the world, screaming on and on every afternoon that he would die a broken and poor man. He of course had been drinking when he would do this. My mother would stand at the door watching in amazement as my father acted like a child. And on the days when he would rest, she would bring him water from our well to quench his thirst, should he wake.

When the growing season would come to a close, my mother would ask, “Father, may I take Benjamin to visit his relatives?” To which he would reply, “Yes, Mother, the harvest will be small this year.” I would almost leap for joy. I absolutely loved my aunt and her manor home in North Carolina. That afternoon I would help my father and mother make preparations for our journey. My father would pack extra food for my mother, saying, “Don’t worry, I will hunt this winter. I won’t have enough to eat anyway.” She would always look at him with a slight disapproval, knowing that she could not tell him anything different. She would kiss him and then go into the house to prepare dinner.

Those were days that would shape my life. Our journey was long and treacherous. Often we would try to drive on as much as possible, pushing ourselves to the brink of fatigue. My mother was one of the best carriage drivers I had ever seen. She always knew the roads and how to go through wooded passes with ease. She always packed for safety as well. She had her own sense of style with a shotgun at her side, ready to defend us if she needed. The journey was always smooth, though. Never was there a time that I saw her shoot anyone or anything. When we arrived in North Carolina, we would always stay at my cousin’s cottage on the border with Virginia. It was a small cottage. The fire was always raging in the corner. Delicious meats were cooking with vegetables in a pot. Simmering sounds could be heard loudly as we sat there talking with my cousins. I would stay there talking with them until I could not take it, and I would ask, “Excuse me, ma’am, but may I have some food?” She would always smile at my adolescence and say, “Yes, you can, Benjamin. Here, let me get you something to eat. Here, take this cup and go outside and get a drink of water.” The water in that area was delicious. I always loved the earthy taste of it. It almost made me think of candy. I would always enter the cottage again seeing all the food in my bowl and say, “Thank you, ma’am.” She would nod and go back to talking to my mother with vibrant enthusiasm. I would sit for hours eating my stew and drinking my water. I never left anything on the plate or any water in the cup.

The cottage was so cozy that I would immediately go to bed, even if the sun was still shining. There was always a nip to the cool air, which made me sleep so well. My mother always told me it was because of the water in the area surrounding the cottage. The water would make the wind colder until it cut through you like a knife. The thick timber walls of the cottage would usually prevent the air from rushing through you, though it did allow a small amount of the wind to blow through the cracks between the timbers. I would sleep for hours until first light. Then I would be awoken by my mother, and she would tell me that we had to go.

The rest of the journey was short but interesting. The beautiful colors in the trees, the air whipping across the Appalachian Mountains, the mist rising early on the fall mornings usually covering the road, but leaving to the imagination what would come next in the journey. My mother knew the country of North Carolina well. She had lived there most of her life until she met my father. It was then that she moved with him to Massachusetts.

When we arrived at my aunt’s manor house, she would greet us with a smile and a wave. She was always happy to see me, and I, to see her. My aunt would invite me to have sweet tea and sit on the porch to watch the rest of the evening go by. I would sit there for hours just waiting for the sun to go down and see all the bugs come out in the cool air. The breeze would blow through the trees, moving them in such a way as to greet me. I really felt at home there among the forests. Then my mother would emerge from the house and say, “Benjamin, it is time to come inside and eat.” I would jump down from the chair and rush inside. I was so excited to eat. My aunt would always prepare greens and chicken with a small portion of potatoes. I always loved the way that she would put the food on the plate. It always made my mouth water, watching as she would gently lay the greens on the plate. Gently pressing the chicken with a knife to make sure that it was prepared properly, she would always make the juices run out of the meat onto the plate. I was so hungry by the time she would lay the plate before me. I would devour the food and look at her with a smile, saying, “Ma’am, may I have another helping?” She would smile and laugh a little but would ultimately give me more than I had before.

My mother would chat with her for hours about everything that was happening on the farm and what it was like living in Massachusetts. I would sit by the fire listening to their conversation and think about the things that I would do the next day. There was an endless amount of land to explore and so many things to see. I would always dream about a creek just below the house. It always bubbled out of the ground with a gentle sprinkle and run over the rocks. I could play in the small waterfall that trickled down just below the start of the spring. I would jump in the water and play with the rocks there; I had all the time in the world to play and enjoy myself. Every day was like that.

In the night my mother and aunt would call me to come and eat, and I would race across the meadows to meet them on the porch. I would eat slowly, trying to listen to what they were saying. In the end, I would go to bed well-fed and relaxed from the conversation. My mother would prepare a bed for me in the sitting room near the fire, and I would beg her to tell me a story before I went to bed. My mother would always smile and say, “I will tell you a story about your aunt when she was a child.” I would always look her in the eyes with excitement, waiting to hear the story. The fire would c***k and pop, and I would hear my mother’s soothing voice as I slowly drifted into sleep, the world around me slowly fading into blackness, and sometimes I could feel the sensations of a beautiful dream, dreams of the world around me and the ever-needed extra time to play. Oh, how I would love to play in the meadows of my mind. I would drift from knoll to knoll, singing and playing as I skipped along. Nothing in the world would interrupt my peace and joy. I would play in my mind until the sun came up.

At sunrise I would hear my grandmother’s sweet voice, calling me to awake from my slumber and get some breakfast. She would always prepare gravy with biscuits, eggs, and bacon. I never went a morning without a full belly. I would always listen to the world going by outside as I ate. I heard the birds sing and the wind gently drifts through the trees, carrying a soothing rustling sound with it. My aunt’s house was always a refuge for me, but as I got older, I lost interest in the summer travels to North Carolina. I had traveled there so many times that it seemed to not be worth the trouble. Since I was seventeen, I had not been to see my aunt. Now some five years later I was returning. It all seemed like a dream to me now.

Two days ago I was working on the biggest banking deal the Northeast had seen. I was to be the master banker for the deal. Now it all seemed to flow away from me like the little stream of which I was so fond. All the work, all the late nights I had spent working on the arrangement. Now it was so long ago in my mind. I sat there in the darkness thinking about the days that led to this spontaneous trip. I thought about my aunt and how she must be suffering, just waiting to see me again. I saw her in my mind as she once was. Such a sweet lady, she would always offer me anything that I needed to be comfortable as a child. Now all she could do was lie in a bed, waiting for the sickness to end.

The train rocked and creaked as it rushed down the tracks. The wind howled by outside, and the only thing that I could do was wait for the sun to emerge from the horizon to relieve the world of this reflective darkness. I could feel myself slipping into sleep as I sat there. This situation had become all that I could think about. I could not imagine that my aunt would become ill so easily. How could she just feel so bad? I always remembered her as the life of the conversation. She always wished to be involved in what she could to help others. I sat there for a few minutes more, thinking about my aunt and how I could have gotten into this situation. I stood up and began fixing the bed. I might not fall into sleep tonight, but I would be comfortable in case I do. I lay down on the bed, slightly drifting under the sheets. The cold sensation that ran along my skin as I corrected my relaxed posture from the sheets was amazing. It was as if my skin almost tingled from the sensation. I felt so relaxed, just waiting there for the sun to arise, calling me forth into the next day.

I closed my eyes and gently drifted into a trance-like state. I let my mind wander ever deeper into the image that had come to mind. I could see the train rushing down the tracks. I could feel the sensation of the wind, but I felt strange. The sky was darkened with clouds that were so thick it seemed the sun would never shine. As I felt a terrible sense of urgency I could not understand, my mind drifted over the ground as if it were a part of the train. The sky rumbled, and rain began crashing onto the car. I gazed through a window to where I was lying. I could feel a terrible sense of dread. The car seemed darker than it had been when I lay down. A pressure rushed over to me and began forcing down onto my chest. The sense was cold as if something containing so much malice wished to oppress me in my dream. I felt the hatred as it stung my chest. I could feel a sharp pain coursing through my flesh. At that moment I could feel an obstacle pressing down around me. I opened my eyes in a flash and tried to sit up. I could not. Why could I not control my own body? In my brief moment of relaxation, had I become paralyzed? I felt drained of my energy, and I could not bear it. I screamed out in terror at this sensation. When my eyes opened and my breath was taken from my chest, I felt a pressure pushing me back down. I could feel the hatred and malice ever stronger the more that I struggled. Something in this compartment wished me harm. I fought and fought when suddenly I heard a slight laugh as of a deranged man. I felt the breath of this creature rushing across my face. It was laughing in my face as if to say that I should not continue. I fought ever harder. Wiggling more and more under the sheets, I finally fought free of its grasp. I launched myself into an upright position, feeling the terror slowly sink inside. I could hear it laughing from the doorway. In that moment I froze, realizing that this creature was here as a warning. I am unsure as to what warning it was trying to convey. I sat there for a minute in silence as the creature just lingered in the doorway. I could feel its gaze upon me, daring me to move. I stared back, but into darkness as the creature’s form was unseen.

I felt a peace rest upon my shoulders; however, it did not last long. I called out, “Who are you, and what do you wish for me?” The creature did not respond for some time. I sat there waiting for the answer, not knowing what would happen next. In an instant, I heard a voice coming from the doorway as of darkness itself. There was a very gruff tone to it, but with a brutality that I had never imagined. I sat there listening as it spoke on.

“I am your fear!” the creature said. “I have come to terrify your very soul!” I could feel the creature smiling as it spoke these words. There was a sense of twisted pleasure in this act. “If you continue to pursue us, we shall devour your soul, for all hell to hold!” An instant passed and the doors flew open, the creature rushing out of the room and out of the car itself. There was a distinct sound of maniacal laughter as the creature fled the car. I felt an instant drop in temperature, but the pressure and fear were gone. I sat there wondering what would come next. I thought about that sentence. Who would devour my soul? Whom would I pursue? To what end would this creature deem to devour my soul? I did not understand any of this. I lay there feeling the peace that surrounded me once again. I felt as if all my fatigue had left. The night moved slowly by, and I found myself sitting in the chair situated at the foot of my bed. I sat there watching the door, waiting. I could not know if this beast would return, or if I would simply sit there alone. If it did return, what would happen? Would that mean that my time had finally come? Would I be guided into hell as the beast spoke? I did not want to find out at all. I wished to simply wait for whatever would happen next.

I prayed in part of my mind that the sun would come. In a way, I felt as if light would make everything better. The other part of my mind wished to face this beast, to understand it. I felt the car moving violently at times as if it were tipping off the tracks. I felt myself slowly drifting into a trance, trying to understand what was happening. I knew that it was all in my mind. There was no plausible explanation for this occurrence. Creatures such as this don’t exist. I thought for an instant that I could be insane. My mind rejected this theory, knowing that I was of sound mind when all this occurred. I knew that I was not dreaming entirely. If I had, I would not have felt the creature as it tried to pin me down. On the other hand, this all had to be a dream. How could something so utterly inexplicable happen? There was no more cause for alarm, yet I felt a terror that had been left deep inside my heart. I could not understand it, but I felt as if I could not continue on this path. “I must continue!” I thought. Whatever this creature could have been was a dream. Nothing happened last night, nothing at all! I quickly refocused on my situation.

The sun shone in with an intensity that I had never felt. The light told me that today would be an unusually hot day. I got up from my chair, watching the air filter through the light. Time seemed to stand still in that moment. I paused, thinking about my aunt. I could not return to New York; I had to continue on. My aunt needed me, and I could not refuse such an invite, especially given the circumstances. I immediately walked over to the wardrobe, opening the doors with caution. I knew there was nothing to fear anymore, but I could feel as if there might be something that I had to avoid. I pushed the feeling to the back of my mind and opened the doors quickly. The doors slid open with a thud as they smacked against the walls. I reached into the darkly lit space, feeling my clothing in my hand. My suits had all been pressed and neatly put away before I even reached my compartment. I pulled the suit out of the wardrobe, gently unfolding the arms. I could feel that the suits had been neatly pressed and placed carefully into the wardrobe. I glanced over the pieces of the suit with caution, looking for stains or creases that were out of place. Nothing had been neater than my suits, with no creases or blemishes the eye could see. The rest of the compartment was in shambles. I had not attempted to unpack anything other than what was handed to the stewards upon my arrival. I had become content with this lifestyle, however.

The day was shining brightly into the compartment from all angles as I dressed myself. One door gently slid open, and I leaned to one side with a cautious look. “Mr. Price?” the man said.

“Yes?”

“I am here to make sure everything has been taken care of for you, sir.”

“Oh, everything is perfect, I assure you,” I said.

“Great, sir,” said the man with emphasis. He looked at me with a puzzled look, and I had to ask. “Sir, did you hear anything coming from this compartment last night?”

He began with a look of interest, “No, sir, I did not.” Upon hearing this, I quickly ended the conversation. “Sir, I am also here in case you have any other requests. Please feel free to let me know of anything that crosses your mind.”

“Thank you,” I said. “I have no other requests at this time.”

“Great, sir, thank you for choosing Northwest Rail,” the man said.

“Thank you for your hospitality. It has been much appreciated.”

“It was my pleasure,” the man said with a smile. He then gently pressed the doors back together, smiling as he went. I could not help but wonder if he had, in fact, heard anything last night. Surely there was no one that could not hear such a disturbance.

I finished straightening my tie and rinsed my hands in a nearby bowl. Today would prove to be yet another adventure. I was sure that I would make the acquaintance of the other guests. Nothing brought more pleasure for the morning than to chat with other members of the higher society. Bankers, lawyers, and wealthy merchants, all with the need to socialize—men in such a line of work would always enjoy meeting others from similar backgrounds. I glanced in the mirror again to make sure that everything was perfect. I slipped out the door into the hallway of the car. I would have to walk through three cars to get to the dining hall, and at this speed, it would prove difficult. The cars were always rocking back and forth, swinging on a balance point, and at times you would feel like the whole car would roll off the tracks. The high amounts of wind that blew against the car were not comforting either. I have never seen a train car blown off the tracks by wind, but the wind seemed determined to make that happen today.

I briskly walked to the door of the car and stepped out onto the walkway. I could see the world rushing by with a swishing noise as if someone was cutting the air with a sword. Without thinking I moved quickly across to the other door. I felt an uneasy presence at that moment as if the beast had returned. I turned and glanced back with nothing there, not even another soul. I felt as if I was losing my mind. I gently rubbed my forehead with my handkerchief and entered the car. The door crackled slightly as I shut it back. It felt in my hands as if it would simply fall off the car and onto the tracks. Perhaps it was just my nervous mind. I had not been out of my car the whole time I had been on the train. My mind had been a torrent of thoughts since I boarded.

I walked down the middle of the aisle of the car and into the dining area. The space was small yet cozy. Leather seats lined each wall with beautiful white tablecloths covering the oak table surface. The tables had been set perfectly with the finest china. I was amazed at the luxurious nature of the dining car. The lights dimly lit the space but with windows accompanying them to give the car a light I had never seen. This was truly the work of a perfectionist. I casually walked forward and sat down in the first available seat. I waited for some time before the waiter came over and set a cup of fresh coffee in front of me. I thanked him and asked for a chance to look over the menu. I sat there in the dim light, simply glancing out the window and occasionally over to the menu. Nothing could make me happier this morning than to just sip my coffee and watch the world pass. I did know, however, that my time would be well spent eating some actual food.

I looked over the menu, quickly noticing the grand breakfast menu. Scones, muffins, and roasted meats, everything seemed so delicious. I could almost taste the roasted pork as I thought about it. I sat there for a minute just thinking about my destination. I stared into the window with a slightly frightful look. I could feel the misery in that creature still. I lingered there for a bit before my food came, and I could not help but feel that somehow something did not want me to arrive at my destination. I did, however, enjoy my breakfast as the train wound headlong into North Carolina.