7 September 2012
I sat on the unevenly carved, stone bench and picked at the loose rubble. It was the darkest, deepest black I had ever seen. It reminded me of the empty feeling I had inside of me. The feeling of confusion and fear. I was sitting next to her. My mother. I wasn't supposed to be scared with her just centimeters away. I was supposed to feel safe. I kicked at the air under the bench as I idly swung my feet, waiting.
I didn't understand the writing on the train stop sign but mom knew. All I could make out was the number 4. So there we sat. We were atop a mountain and the bench was in the very center. The top of the mountain was no bigger than a regular bedroom in a regular house, somewhere I wished I was instead of on this mountain. Mom and I were alone. Sitting, waiting. Finally she spoke "Ari, the train is almost here." I slowly got up off the bench and followed close behind her. The ground rumbled quietly as we walked around the deep wells of magma. Occasionally the little wells would bubble up, pop and spray a little sprinkling of volcanic goo onto the dark, black ground. I couldn't help but be mesmerized at this. The magma cooled so fast against the ground as it formed more darkness and the wells grew smaller for just a second before erupting again with little gurgling bubbles. I walked with Mom, shadowing her footsteps. Her tiny feet knew just where to land. Mom had been here before.
We stood next to the second train sign at the bottom of the mountain. The ground rumbled more and now a bit more ferocious than the gentle growling before. The train was coming. I could hear the pounding and wheezing of the coming train.
The enormous, ebony, stoned train gracefully came to a stop as it billowed smoke from every inch of it's immense, structure. This train was made entirely of black stone, just like the lonely bench on the mountain. The train was powered by fire and magma. I knew this because where the wheels would be there were openings like windows into it's frame exposing the fiery, hot and burning power source. It stood there, glorious and full of heat. All I could do was gaze at its beauty with a loss of words.
Mom boarded the train and sat near the front. I Remained at the train sign, frozen. I couldn't board the train. I couldn't move my legs that just a short while before crossed just as daintily as my mothers between those gurgling wells. No, now my legs were stuck. My body stood there, an unmoving obstacle as stone as the gigantic train in which my mother sat. This was not my train. This train was here to take my Mom away. Then, it did. The fire rose inside the train and it coughed out a thick choking cloud of obsidian smoke. It took my Mom away. Then I felt it. The feeling that I wished for sitting next to her on the lonely bench. I felt our bond, I felt a daughters love for her mother. I felt my heart slowly tear as if she had one half with her and the other half still beat inside my chest. I felt it stretch and rip as the train moved past me, farther, farther into the distance leaving nothing but it's sick, black smoke. I finally forced my legs to move. I urged the muscles to push me towards my mother and make the monster train stop. I ran for Mom but I was too late and too slow. The train was gone.
I woke up from my dream on a cold, grey morning. I smelled cinnamon in the air and descended from my bed. I brought my legs one by one to dangle over the bed and touched the floor heater with my toes. It was another dream. Another strange, perplexing dream. I put on my christmas slipper socks and slowly padded out of my room where I found my mom making a pot of coffee. I snuck up close to her, hugged her tight and said, "I love you mama."
Volcano • Opuss № I