Transport

A Story by Chet

Skygorg took a deep breath. He was about to get on the transport. The government said he had to go. His mother said he had to go. His two little girls said he had to go. So finally, he is going to go. He stood there in his traditional garb of loin cloth, herb pouch, and long hair. Nobody stood near him. That suited him just fine.

The doors open. Skygorg steps on and grabs a hand rail and hand strap. The doors close.

Skygorg closes his eyes tightly. He had done this once before and only made it one stop before he became sick. This time he had to make it 6 stops. He felt the transport pick up speed. They said it would be easier the second time. They were wrong, it was worse. Much worse. He knew, in a few moments the transport would suddenly slow down for the first stop. So he opened his eyes a little bit. His eyes beheld only a blur and for a moment he didn't know what he was looking at. It was the world passing by. This is what death is like as your spirit leaves the world.

Skygorg turned to the other side of the transport to see it it too was a blur. A woman standing near him saw his face, screamed and rushed to the other end of the transport. Within seconds everyone was crowded at one end and he stood alone. He thought this was funny until he realized that laughter might release his stomach contents. His stomach was in no mood. But just in case, he moved his braided hair from his shoulder in front to drape down his back.

The transport stopped. Skygorg did not move and tried to keep his eyes open. The transport closed.

Skygorg felt a little better for a moment then the transport lurched forward threatening his composure. He firmly shut his eyes and resolved to keep them shut until the end. A young child and mother boarded at the last stop and the child kept staring at the native man. His mother tried to distract the child but he spoke up anyway. "Mama, why doesn't that man have any clothes on?"

Skygorg was tempted to answer the child but realized he could not yet open his mouth. The mother answered for him. "A native, protected by the constitution. A shame really. No business being on this train." It's just a transport, thought Skygorg. The sinking feeling was not getting any better. Another person spoke up "It's getting to be that it's not even safe to ride the trains anymore." The mother nodded to the stranger. The little boy's quirosity was peeked, "Mama, Is that man dangerous?" The mother hushed the child "it's not a man, it's a Native." The child seemed satisfied and threw a pretzel at the man. A couple other passengers giggled when the Native didn't react.

The transport stopped. Skygorg watched as even more people boarded. The doors closed too quickly.

Skygorg stared at the closed doors. The transport was filling with chatter and he stood next to the doors hoping that the next stop would not be long. He was getting off. Early. No choice. He stood staring out the door windows at the blur rushing by. He wanted to look at the child and mother to see who would think so little of him. He didn't have to turn. The child and mother were up and standing next to him waiting for the train to stop and the doors to open.

Skygorg looked at the child, but the child was busy playing with a plastic toy soldier. "Pew pew pew" sounded out the little boy. "Hush," responded the mother. Skygorg looked directly at the mother wondering what he could say to her. The mother noticed and pulled the little boy closer to her. "Mama, your hurting me" the little boy looked upset. "Hush" repeated the mother. The little boy squirmed but the mother held fast.

The transport stopped. Skygorg watched the mother and son depart and more people climb in. The doors closed.

Skygorg suddenly realized he had not gotten off. The transport was full with only standing room available. He looked around but no one was paying him any attention. Skygorg had an unfamiliar feeling that he was all alone. These are not his people. They have no connection to the earth or sky. They cannot see the world he sees. No one even sees him anymore.

Skygorg completely forgot his quezzy stomanch. So many people. So close together. But each and everyone isolated. He turned and faced a young girl. She moved to the side and he walked past her. He saw an old man. He too moved and past him. Each person he encounters does the same thing. Skygorg reached the middle of the transport and stood where no one else stood. He wrapped his hair around his neck and turned to face the dying sun.

The transport stopped. Skygorg did not notice. The transport resumed.

Skygorg pulled out a sacred herb from a pouch on his side. He pinched two fresh leaves releasing a strong scent. He then proceeded to touch the scent to the forehead of each person around him. He walked through the transport pinching the herb then touching more foreheads. When he completed, he returned to the center and proclaimed. "You are of the earth, you are my brothers and sisters. Do not be afraid." Every person on the transport stared at him. As the train came to it's next stop Skygorg made his way through the crowd smiling and touch the arms of every person he passed. Smiling he stepped off the transport. This was not his destination, but that didn't matter.