Part 1

His eyes flickered open, as his dad's last step echoed across the hallway. His dad hit the light switched, and darkness and silence engulfed the two-storey house. The boy waited for a few minutes, his eyes meandering across the ceiling, illuminated by the street-lights on the corner. He got up, watching not to step on the creaky floorboard, slipped open his drawer, and took out a brown bag.  Slipping the previously arranged contents of the drawer into the bag, then hastily zipped the bag up, and got dressed. Under the weight of his black coat, the boy crept down the stairs, and left the note on the kitchen table. Opening the kitchen cupboard, he opened his bag and dropped a few snacks into the bag and then quickly zipped it up again. Without any hesitation,  he took one deep breath, looked around him, took one large breath, inhaling the aromas that had drowned his senses for the past sixteen years and then stepped out into the unknown through the front door. He unlocked the gate softly, and as the metal locks gave way, he took one last look of the two-storey house. He walked towards the street corner light. He had escaped. 

The train ticket attendant had an awful smell. His four day beard, beady, yellow eyes, and drooping eyelids, repulsed the boy, who kept his distance away from the counter. He slipped three coins through the keyhole, and retrieved the ticket. It was punch-holed by the fat controller, whose belly protruded painfully out of his green jacket. The young boy waited on the deserted platform while his bag lay on the floor. The station was dark, except for the small lamppost that hung off the bridge, and the illuminated midges and fireflies danced energetically in the light. A sputter and a chug echoed through the night, as the two headlights of the train, two eyes in the night, pierced the darkness and made their way towards the platform. The train screeched to a spot and the boy stepped onto the train.

The carriage smelled of spilt beer, urine, and stale baked goods. There were only four people on the carriage with him, each person more distinct than the other. The boy took a seat in the middle of the carriage, in the hope of avoiding conversation and gaining sleep. In front of him, a drunkard lay haggling the chair, his revolting stench of gin and more gin spreading through the cabin. A neatly dressed man sat across from the drunkard, with an immaculate briefcase, an immaculate haircut that was gelled perpendicular to his forehead, some immaculate shoes that the boy really liked, and an immaculate suit. Sitting at the back of the carriage, was someone who resembled a magician, he was sleeping head down in a cheap tuxedo onto a large airport filled with odd artifacts that could only belong to a wizard or a magician, and the boy settled for the latter. Finally, on the other side of the carriage sat a priest, whose long robes caressed the dingy floor as the train struggled further across the tracks.  The priest suddenly got up and approached the boy. ìWhatís your name,î he said. The boy blinked and looked into the priestís drooping eyes. "Patrick," he lied. ìMay I sit next to you Patrick," the priest asked. "If you want to," the boy replied. With his confirmation the priest sat next to him, and to avoid any further conversation, the boy leaned against the window, and closed his eyes. As the swaying movement of the train gently eased his body, he wondered why he had lied. Maybe he liked lying, he thought. But thinking tired the boy, and after a few pondering moments, his eyes gave way to his senses, and he delivered himself to the night. 

When he awoke, all the passengers were gone, except for the sleeping magician, and an overweight baker who had parked his goods into the corner of the carriage. Light flooded through the air vents of the carriage, and the cacophony of the morning greeted his reveille. The train screeched to a stop and a bawdy, hoarse voice from outside, "C'mon get out everyone!" The baker slipped out of the door, the magician gathered his stuff and got out, and the boy was left alone with his bag. He picked it up, and as he was about to leave, realized that the priest had left a few books and a crucifix in his seat. The boy looked away and stepped out of the door, as his eyes squinted, tortured by the invading daylight. 

Author's Note

Suggestions/Criticsm/Comments always welcome!