The whisper

Tom had always been a curious boy, in the sense of inquisitive and also, oddball. He had been a studious, quiet child that no-one really noticed. He did not interrupt people's stories with his own, peppered refrains; he waited to be spoken to and listen intensely to people as they interacted, always holding back.

He was a day-dreamer, wandering through the school corridors without whim or care, brushing past his fellow students in teh lunch hall or in class, but could any of them even close their eyes and recall what he was wearing or his eye or hair colour ? Probably not. He was happy enough. This was enough for him. He did not need to be needed, did not need to be surrounded by the masses, popular I guess. He was not lonely either.

He sauntered back to the station, to catch his daily train home. He noticed how cold it had gotten, and the ice patterns on the platform, criss-crossing and leaving a snail-trail if debris behind, then a puddle as the light shone onto the ice, melting it into nothingness. He saw the yellow line, informing people to keep back, away from the train, but today he felt adventurous. After all, there was no guard there to tell him otherwise; what would happen if he motioned nearer the edge of the platform ? Nothing at all. Other people must have done it and so why not him. Mum and dad were at work and no classmates were there to snitch to teacher. So, looking around him furtively, he motioned his right foot and then hi left, nearer the thick yellow line. He had now crossed over the painted 'border'. Nothing had changed, He was still Tom but this time he had broken a rule. He felt elated, a small victory for the quiet boy who no-one noticed. He did not feel the draft of the oncoming train, push him downwards, spiralling off the platform and onto the edge of the track below. With one sharp gust, the wind had knee-jerked him off the safe platform and onto the track. There was no time to reach up and help himself, he looked to his right and saw the oncoming, speeding train.... chug..chug..churrr.brrr. grrr... chuggety chug. Silence. He closed his eyes. He now opened one eye, slowly, then the other. He was still there, he was alive, he was sane and safe. He looked up and saw a mass of people staring down at him, some were screaming, others were gawping and pointing. What were they pointing to ? he could not fathom what had happened. He got up and took a walk along the track...... slowly and methodically. He looked behind him and there were no footprints. None at all. He pointed his right toe into the snow, the thin,veiled layer of white in front of him. He embedded it, crushed it... or so he thought. There was no trace of a print or mark on the ground. He stood motionless.It dawned on him that he no longer existed, not in the earthly manner of 'being'. He was now a spirit, no longer tangible, no longer visible, but free to roam and play in the snow.