draft

Marie hops off the Packenham train and into the crowded mess; these humans, books half-written, dull stars, pretty ashes. She walks along clayton station, packed with people, almost an intoxicating smell, so much noise, followed with so many bodies, but feels like there’s only one marble rolling in the bag. It's always like that; the noises are like birds chirping away happily, but she vibrates nothing, rather a bird that has lost its voice. The past changes, the present forgetful, and the future never here. Well that what she thought at least. 

As she walks towards the myki brigade, a sensation of uncertain clarity indulges her. A collection of seemingly familiar speculations arises from the inner. Bright red stop signs near the station remind, her; stop something; taunt her with bitter truths that dance alongside a half-bitten macaron. Where’s that macaron now? This moment now; her ruined sweatshirt and sturdy jeans, chaotic grey-white hair, traps her in the pages of someone else book, the scraps of a meal. 

Some glasses are left half full, the fire that once burnt has never been put out. Somehow there are remains of ashes from a collection of other flames. The fire never burns though. A chapter, a step forward, only reminds her of the countless footsteps left behind. Clayton this place, is nothing but a wrong direction. What does one have to do, to be able to have their eyes completely open again? The unknown is so dark when your eyes have been closed, but half open it’s a nightmare.  She gazes her wrinkled, bony hand, the years that have left; maybe the fire stops burning today, the footsteps left behind, erased and the marble may finally leave the bag today. 

Marie gazes to her left, identifies, what seems to be a homeless man slightly above her age sitting on the bench.  Could never be sure if he was homeless. As her eyes have played lies on her, for most of her life. Unless they were never fully open. If that were the case the whole picture would have never been apparent to her. Wouldn’t be a surprise. Strange that man looked oddly familiar or was she seeing things again, don’t know. Some unformed reality she could see herself in him, who knows might end up just like him, if she was lucky enough. After all, the both of us were part of the blue flowers but turned lilac and ended with the same conclusions. Rather odd, everyone else walking by with things to do. In such a hurry. But I left here momentarily, with nothing but a mind. A mind that partially forgot the blue birds. How do they go around every day with goals, motives and ideas grasped in their labyrinth. Do they dwindle on thoughts that consume reality, do they consider timelines that twist the past and future to become nothing but an endless loop, where here and there is split into mine, yours, and nothing. What's the real world and does I hold value in that unknown. Cause I have lost the touch between the difference of the past, and future and I have mistaken the call of the skies for the rumbling of the Earth, and I wander now across this planet, even after death ill wander across what may be this world but another realm, nevertheless I will wander for eternity, forever eyes half closed, half open searching for something that was willing discarded.  

The wind wrapped its arms around her almost throwing her backwards. As it crawled up her skin leaving her vulnerable and exposed to bitter breeze. Colder than usually is, perhaps resembling the race against time is coming to an end, yet Marie cannot yet, the fires still need to burn. The clock in her mind counts down the seconds as if a timer set for her to find that something. The snow mountain she once stood on above everything else, has been trembled flat and Shes left buried amongst the snow and rubble, consuming the flame. Suddenly she could feel her eyes blurring the reality and observing something that seemed lost in the past yet so distant in the future. Afterall the more you observe the less you know, a figure; that wasn’t isolated but next to other individuals they laughed together, laughter that enchanted the room in symphonies, smiling, almost happy. That figure stirred the forgotten possibilities teased her a little with the forgotten time. But if you looked closer you could see the barriers around the figure, the smiles were a grimace, and the joy was rather a defiance, and the laughter was a scream. If you look further Indepth you see the smile again the cycle repeats endlessly, its only when you look hard enough you realise how far away the figure is from you. Realising that the cycle may be a loop but time unfortunately for the figure never follows. 

As if everything, Marie had done had suddenly been fixated to this one point, her eyes were directed to a young slightly bright man, train station guard. For some reason, she could see her own eyes in his, almost as if a past self, the same feeling she could feel with the homeless man, the same eyes.  But there was life in his, something in him that she had longed forgotten.  The bright colours in him that are no longer visible to her displayed itself for brief but unforgettable moment.  Something fits, it clicks almost, this atmosphere is too perfect for a reality, the coldness of winter station just floats by, almost replaced by a warmth, a lost warmth. It just right for once, it feels right or am I feeling again. This unknown tenderness, so different it scares me. Cause right now, where I stand here this place, this world is all the same as it has been for a long time, it's quiet comforting all in all. This input of something new, is it even new? It's so familiar but I'm afraid, afraid of so much. But that young man reminds me of the me before. Something, similar yet he somehow reminds me of the me now. Or is that paths are linked, because he’s in-between old me and me now, but his closer to the me now. Pity. 

The homeless man, the young man and me are the same people but different in timelines where we share almost the same ending. 

 But by grace today, Marie was able to witness fragments of herself and by the unconscious mind she walked towards the young man where she just came to realisation was a guard. Marie couldn’t help but consider how sometimes time has already decided some things, her figure standing just before the myki brigade eyes half open, call it fate but from the looks of it, her clock in the mind is finally coming to an end and time itself will no longer follow the figure.  She’s seen it all, but that young man has a lot to experience, his eye is almost completely closed, maybe just a few remaining moments with him, could possibly help him not turn out to be us and have his eyes wide open, just maybe. Suddenly, with a goal in mind, she approaches the man, forgetting the barricade, gently hitting it. The young man notices. Smiles. A smile at Marie. A smile that lights her insides. A smile that causes the fire to burn. “Myki?” He asks.  

But the flame was only half burning maybe because the old man still sat on the bench gazing into the nothingness. There's one and half marbles in the bag. Maybe in another world there would have been 3 marbles. But this time only one and half. A tragic begging for a hopeful end. The figure drops to eternity...