A Plethora of Short Stories

Chatter flies around the train we are confined in, distracting me from the beautiful, grassy landscape around us. I turned my head so I could see the other passengers of this tour. They are all taking photos of the outside landscape or texting friends they left at home. Amazing really, how people become so reliant on technology, so much so that that they can't remember a place, or be sure that their friends are thinking of them. Another snowflake lands on my lap, I brush it off and my attention is instantly elsewhere, out on to the grassy field, now filling up with snow. The speaker comes on, a loud voice booming around the train. I ignore it, as usual, and keep my attention on the snowflakes. They're hard to see through, even though it is night. The silver moonlight shines through the clouds, so bright you could reach out and grab it. And I do, try and grab it, that is, and it works, from my perspective at least. I pull my hand back and open it up, a snowflake falls on it, silver under the moonlight, like a curse, perhaps, or a promise. My body tumbles along with the train, but I don't fall on anyone, as there is no-one near me. Falling only hurts as much as it always does, but I only flinch, I'm used to the pain, both mental and physical. I have to be, I'm an assassin, and my curse is that I can only kill under the moonlight. This time, I fall between the crates at my feet, and I get stuck, and wriggling my way out just traps me even more. The train picks up speed, but all I see is the silver promise of moonlight. I only kill under moonlight, and it kills me under moonlight. A promise... and a curse. My head spins around wildly, fruitlessly looking for a way out, but I was domed the moment I even thought of coming on this tour. Screams and shouts resound around me. Helpless and scared, combined emotions, pressing down on me, choking me. The train tumbles, falling, falling fast. Down below are trees, trees and no help. Bodies are flung about, but only serve to trap me further. The trees get closer, but all I see is a curse, a curse of silver moonlight, a silver killer. ————————————— I've always hated that curse, that promise. It doomed me, but it also freed me. It freed me in a way inexplainable with words. I can only hope to thank it in my heart, my heart of silver. And, while my heart may thank it, my mind will always curse it. It trapped me in a terrible destiny, one no 16-year-old should experience. Ever. It's a contradicting promise, a contradicting curse. I love it. I hate it. I thank it. I curse it. But it will always be with me, no matter where I am, no matter what I do. I love it. I hate it. I thank it. I curse it. And it will always, always be with me.