short story: quiver part one

Dreams of falling endlessly prey on Henry’s mind. The sound of children’s laughter echoes around him as he plummets. They call for his existence, his warm blood. Henry wakes every night covered in his own sweat, his pillow wet with tears. He wonders if he should succumb to his subconscious and perish, for there is darkness in both worlds, un-living in both worlds.

The flickering light of the train illuminates the death in all their faces. Are these people really living? As the crowded train slithers through the dark underground, the constant thud of the train meeting the tracks feels like a heartbeat, quickening when it fastens, dying as it stops at each station to let out its passengers. Henry stands among the swarm, crushed by the human statues. He is a young man but the dark circles that pull at his eyes make him seem older.

The heart is beating fast now, to central, and all the people stare ahead with jaded eyes. Smudged red lipstick, 5 o’clock shadows, stale perfume, and reddened eyes fill the carriage. Henry’s eyes glisten as he stares at the strangers he wish would thaw and become warm and tell him this life is worth living.

People do not look into each others eyes; the tiny specks of colour in their irises never align, and when they do it is by accident and they quickly look away and try with all their strength left over from the day to resist the urge to look back.

Strangers bump knees in the bustle and cringe. A hundred sweaty palms cling to a grimy pole and form a beautiful vertical line of pale skin, dark skin, wrinkles, large fingers, small fingers. The hands are so close to holding, but their owners are careful not to overlap flesh. Henry sees the icy blood stream through their veins, the bitterness in their stiff faces. Warm blood still runs through his body, but his veins too are becoming arctic. Not long now.

Henry looks down the carriage and watches the shaky world through the scratched windows disconnecting the carriages as though looking into a mirror. That world is identical to this one. The same faces, the same jobs, the same lives. Henry even thinks he sees himself.

The heartbeat slows now, the screeching begins. The doors open and Henry watches the bodies flee, leaving him alone with the buzzing fluorescent lights.