The Lament of The White Dahlia - Alexandria R. Deckelman (the rosie project TXT) 📗

Alas I could finally return to my family. Thoughts and memories of our tiny stone cottage came to play in my mind, only increasing the force that turned my lips into a broader smile. It had been five years since I had last seen them, communicationg only by letters which sometimes never arrived. They had come to visit me a few times on my birthdays, but usually just sent a gift with what little money they had. Now I could finally return to them, even if for just a short period of time I would cherish and savor with all of my being until the end and further more. Staring past the thin layer of collected dirt on the train's window pane, I watched contentedly. 

Crawling from the warm haze of sleep I awoke to find I wasn't far from my destination. Leaving my forhead to rest against the cool window, I listened to the new perception of reverberating thunder, its idle thrum lulling my thoughts until the searing lightning ripped through the atmosphere. This provoked a chest hollowing roar from the passive element of thunder. I clenched with worry, slightly withdrawing from the window. I clamped my jaw as I began to shove the general emotion of fear away, but the memories were stronger. The dark room illiuminating twisted shapes in the shadows, the seemingly lifeless children laying neither peacefully nor uneasily in their beds, and the trees slashing their branches against the windows. The windows often broke, which was the only thing which tore the void. The dead children would awaken, the Wardens' spindley tree like figures would come surging through the doors to evacuate us from the room. Malcontent with the conjuring of memories in my skull I began to gently beat my head against the window until it began to feel sore. As I ground my teeth, eventually the unwanted recollection was caught in the pull and it was grinded into insignificance. Aware of my surroundings once more, I turned my attention back to the intercom which crackled into audible vocals; Now entering Chur.. Next station Glarus.

I felt my heart begin to twitch with excitement in each cycle, my muscles tensing to reach for my luggage. As soon as I felt the train lurching to a stop, despite the ear ringing screech which felt like sand paper against my ears I had never felt such joy. Springing to grab my luggage I stepped into the small line of kids which lived in our small town of Chur. 

Stepping off the train I inhaled the sharp frigid air, along with the exhale of previous trains as they heaved themselves forward once more.

Publication Date: 11-07-2014

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