Fragments Gallery
A Single Light
A single light to fend off the darkness. That's what the single street lamp seemed to be that night. One lone figure standing against the unyielding tide. Standing alone, a fact or perception?
The lamp was old fashioned, the elaborately shaped metal grate encasing the yellow bulb, sheltering it from the elements. The light coursed out from its ornate armour, illuminating the train platform on which it rested. The platform itself was fairly long, long enough to stretch out of sight. The worn concrete faded into the darkness. The snow didn't help visibility. Falling in large fluffy flakes it further obscured the surroundings. In the darkness the snow seemed to be a cloud, obscuring everything but constantly moving, ever falling to the ground.
Underneath the lamp rested a lone bench, its old wood white flecked, twisted and worn. But it still stood. Sometimes that was all that counted.
A young man perched on the back of the bench, his wavy black hair glistening from the water of melted snow. Rivulets of the icy liquid slid down his face, trickling down his neck only to be absorbed by the thirsty cloth of his ragged jacket. He stared off into the distance. Only darkness met his eyes, long ago the other lamps lining the platform had gone out. No one had ever been back to replace the weathered bulbs. Another odd fact. Now only one remained, just one to illuminate the old platform.
"The train don't come mate. Not here anyways."
The young man looks up as a figure shuffles out of the falling snow, seemingly drawn in by the single light. As the figure draws nearer his features begin to stand out. A threadbare coat, elbows heavily patched, drawn haphazardly over a thin, worn sweater. A few letters are visible on the sweater, showing through various gaps in the fabric are an "s," "I," "t" and "y." His grey toque was uneven; one side pulled down over an ear the other side a bit higher, revealing grey greasy hair. A patchy beard covered his lower jaw but his upper lip remained bare. His eyes glittered in the dim light. Moving closer he spoke again.
"It ain't come in a long time. So what'cha waiting for?"
The young man looks away from the other. Absentmindedly he chews on a lip, ignoring the ragged figure. Undeterred the older man shuffles forwards, continuing to speak.
"Not much could bother a young one, such as you, so much that he should try to be alone. Not much."
The young man rolls his eyes and shifts his feet. Water cascades to the ground, shaken free of his clothing. The tiny orbs glisten as they fall, holding together until they shatter against the cold unforgiving concrete.
"I can't say exactly what your problem is son, but I can say one thing. No matter how bad it is it’ll get better. You’ll see.”
The young man sighs and swings his legs from the bench. It was late enough. He’d been on this old platform long enough. Long enough for what? He no longer knew.
He stands with a groan as his joints and muscles protest his movement. The old man chuckles as the other rises, somehow he sees something funny. The young man shakes his head as he begins to walk away, just a crazy old man.
“That’s right boy, you go back! You’ll find your way Gabriel!”
Shocked the young man comes to a stop. Gabriel? That was his name. How could the old man know that? The question in mind Gabriel turned back, intending to ask. Gabriel stops and blinks. There was no one there. All he could see amidst the falling snow was an old train platform, lit by a single street lamp. Under the lamp sat a worn wooden bench, slowly turning white as snow covered the surface he had left. Odder still the old man had left no prints in the fresh snow. The only prints there were his own, created as he left.
Gabriel stares for a moment longer and then shakes his head. Without a word he pivots in place and turns his back on the station. He is quickly swallowed by the falling snow.
On the platform an old man smiles as he watches Gabriel disappear into the flying snow. Maybe this would be enough for him to see. See a way out. Help him ease his broken, troubled heart. Or maybe it wouldn’t and Gabriel would find his way back out to the platform. Waiting beneath the lamp for a train that never came. The old man and his smile vanished into the snow, leaving naught a trace.