Train to Bibury

Here we have a man, sitting alone at a small table, steam still rising from his porcelain cup. A silent piano is being played on his leg that nobody can hear but him. He is dressed in clothing that any wealthy gentleman would wear in public if he wanted to impress. His grey suit fits perfectly on his frame, black shoes polished, and a watch that glimmered under the lights. Michael gazes out the window as golden leaves glitter in the sun after the rainy night. Raising the cup to his lips, he sips some coffee as a satisfied grin appears on his face.  

“Best coffee I have had in sometime.” he sighs. 

Michael gazes around the elegantly decorated dining room and notices he is the only one there. It wasn’t something that he minded but this was a popular train during peak season, after all. Reaching for the brochure next to him, he picks it up. 

Michael uses a very posh accent, "Come with us on the world’s most luxurious tour of the country side, Royal Railways. Everyone must have stayed up later than I did last night.”  

The middle-aged man stands up and has to steady himself with the use of his chair as the train rocks a little over the tracks. He makes his way back towards the cabins and finds his, unlocking it, and walking right in. Today the train was traveling to the quaint little town of Bibury, England. Michael was more than ready to relax among the trees and fairy tale like architecture. Sitting at the cabin’s desk he begins to read and occasionally peer outside at the ever-changing scenery. As the train rode along the tracks, he began to tune into his book more until he was completely immersed in it.  

About an hour later, Michael’s sage colored eyes open, squinting from the sudden sunlight. As he raises his head, he discovers his cheek has become stuck to the page and the train has stopped. He hurriedly puts on his coat, fedora, and grabs his wallet before exiting his room. 

A loud but friendly voice booms through the hallways, "We have now arrived in Bibury, please make sure your cabin doors are locked and remember we only have 3 hours until we are on to the next town. Thank you and have a delightful visit.”  

The hallway is as it was before, bare and void of all life. Michael pays it no mind and exits the train. The moment his feet hit the sidewalk of the station; he is taken away by the fresh air. The station is as the hallway was, empty. 

“Where is everyone? Did I sleep longer than I thought, and everyone exited before me?” he asks himself as he begins walking to the front of the train station. 

As he passes the offices, a man at a desk catches his eye through a window. The man appears to be hard at work but it was the only sign of life Michael had seen. 

“Hello there!” he calls out to him but the man is not fazed by his gesture. “Hello!” Finally, he lifts his head but says noting and goes back to his work. “Hmm, not a very friendly guy.” 

Michael carries on through and is welcomed by stone buildings with pointed roofs, plants in full bloom, and the greenest grass he has ever seen.  

“It's as if someone opened a storybook and dumped all the contents on to a bare landscape. Never have I ever seen such a place.” Michael gazes at the new place with childlike wonder. He was from the city and as he got older his big city dreams began to fade. 

Up the road he can see a car driving towards him so he keeps walking, after all he is a friendly guy. The vintage car approaches him at a safe speed and as it passes the driver waves with a welcoming smile.

Michael does the same and begins to feel more welcome in their town than he did before. Making his way down the street people begin to walk out of shops, music comes from a diner, children’s laughter floods the street from the local park, and Michael’s heart fills with joy.  

His footsteps take him into a park full of trees, benches, and families; the perfect picture for postcard. Suddenly, a baseball rolls towards him and stop at his polished shoes.  

“Baseball, I miss playing that game. America’s favorite pastime.” Picking it up, he looks for the children playing and takes it over. “Here you go. You know, baseball is a great talent I used-” His words are cut off when he notices the children are not even paying attention to him.  

They move around the field but not in the way humans do but their voices are clear to him. Confused and a little disturbed, the man runs into town and tries to find the closest adult. His heart races, eyes wide, and mind swimming with a million different possibilities.

The town has become a bustling intersection and all he has to do is chose one person. They could believe him or think that he is out of his mind, but what choice does he have?  

“Sir, Ma’am anybody, I need some help. I tried to speak to the children in the park but they aren’t human, in fact they aren’t even real! They all have-” he glances at the people as they pass and falls silent for a moment. His voice is quiet now “painted on faces.”  

Michael is overcome with confusion and he begins to panic. There has to be someone in this town that he can talk to, someone who is real. He begins running around the town and finds an open door of a café. He runs inside and sees the same faces at every table, soft music over the speaker, and the mixture of all their voices.  

“What is going on?! Can someone tell me!” He backs up a little at a time and hears the voice of a woman. 

“Excuse me.” She bumps into him and repeats it. “Excuse me.” 

“Oh sorry Miss.” turning around he sees that she has the same expression and lack of emotion.  

He watches as she moves to a table, bends over slightly, and then carries the same tray of food back to the kitchen, only to start her route all over again. Michael has no choice but to leave, feeling fear build up inside, he doesn’t know what to do.  

The land begins to darken as the sun disappears behind the trees and he hears the conductor call out to the passengers “All aboard! Next stop Oxford!” His brilliant voice echoing through the streets and catching Michael’s ears.  

“I have got to get back to that train.” He begins running down the street, passed the shops, and through the park. His heart is pounding as he reaches the train just in time. Not even looking at the Conductor, he boards the train and immediately falls into a seat. He takes deep breaths, closes his eyes, and tries to settle down as the train begins to roll down the track.  

A human sized shadow comes over his face followed by a man’s comforting voice “Sir, can I get you anything?”  

Michael sighs, opens his eyes, and lifts his head to meet the man eye to eye. Only his happiness is short-lived when he is met the same painted on expression, he saw all over town. 

“How is England coming along?” A woman asks as everything else falls silent.  

The train cart is lifted from the track by an aged hand and carefully opened. 

“Just beautifully, My Dear. I seem to have all the moving parts in order, sound effects included. I am wondering if our newest addition is well suited for this particular setting.” He picks up a small mechanical doll dressed in clothing that any wealthy gentleman would wear in public if he wanted to impress.