Ok--- A few author's notes:

1. I am a medieval studies second major and
I read A LOT of dream vision stories and
other type of medieval Christian literature.
This is an anttempt to do a MODERIZED version
of that.

2. I am not religious personally, so if I 
offend anyone with my particular outsider's
view of religion, I am sorry.

3. Please let me know what you think!! ^_^

-Misa


Station



	It was half past seven exactly when the man finally got to the
counter. The station smelled of petroleum and the faces with no names
looked expectantly out of the windows of the passenger train. Faces
smiled, faces cried, all of the had some expression, even if it was no
expression at all. The grey sky was growing darker and the train screamed
out its warning to the apologetic on the platform. And then, growling and
grumbling, it pulled itself along its belly on the tracks, dispersing its
audience. Seven-thirty and the train was on its way somewhere. 

	The attendant looked at the man, his eyes vague and patient. 
Where to sir? He queried, surveying the man's suitcase and his spotless
white shirt under a long overcoat. I would like to purchase a ticket. For
the late train tonight. To Venaeh please. One way. The attendant looked
down at his watch, There are no more trains tonight, sir. Besides, we
don't send trains to Venaeh anymore. The man looked surprised. No trains
to Venaeh? None at all? 

	The attendant began to gather his things and said over his 
shoulder, People just don't care about going there anymore. It is a long 
trip, and more trains used to crash than make it. There used to be 
several trains and hundreds of passengers a day! There was even talk of 
an improved track. But instead the new trains came, and they were so much 
better. Faster, easier. None of those trains could make it to Venaeh 
though, not enough power in them to make it up the jagged peaks of those 
mountains. He gestured to the glorious range that seemed to become one 
with the sky. So people just started going where the trains went, and 
that happened to be the Flatlands. Not that I approve, you know?

	He started to close the window, muttering to himself. Nope, not a 
train now. Not a train.

	Wait! The man looked disconcerted but determined. There must be 
some way to travel there, there has to be a train! The attendant shook 
his head. Only a freight train, and I have no idea whether or not it 
stops here at this station. I don't think it takes passengers, and it 
comes late. Here sir, let me sell you a ticket through the Flatlands. The 
attendant reached down to grab a ticket. Maybe a train in the valley can 
take you to Venaeh. The man fiercely shook his head, and motioned the 
attendant to stop. No? Well, I welcome you to wait. Here, have a ticket 
for tomorrow. On me. The attendant tossed the man a ticket and slammed 
shut the ticket window.

	Grasping the ticket between two fingers, the man stumbled to a 
seat. Far in the distance across the plain, a smoke trail left evidence 
of the last train. Beyond the sky touched mountains, the Flatlands of 
brown soil and weeds stretched away. A winter breeze blew at the light of 
the glorious sunset, the gold seemed somehow muted by the bleakness of 
the situation. The man sat there until the stars began to peek out behind 
the clouds that were blacker than the night.

	Silence is a  fearful thing, and in the  immutability of the 
night the lack of sound crept towards the man. A heartbeat was almost 
audible in the silence, but he knew not if it was his own or some other 
imperceptible voice. The chill was seeping into his skin and his joints 
began to stiffen, it  was cold, ever cold, and the lack of light and 
warmth chilled his very soul. Why was he waiting here? There was no hope, 
Venaeh was to far away to reach. No one could get there anymore, after all.
	
	And it was somewhere it that loss and feeling of utter 
abandonment when he felt the wind change. It blew up from the Flatlands 
and, somewhere in that nether world, a faint sound called. It was a 
warming sound, and sound of hope. It was the whistle cry.

	It came louder and louder while it crashed and banged its way, 
metal scraped, and all in its path was crushed and scoured. The train was 
coming. The man rose and stood on the edge of the tracks. He stood beyond 
the line that was there to protect. He wanted to embrace that train! 
Embrace it and cry his success. The light from the train was at first 
faint, but as it neared it became blinding. The light was coming and 
quickly. It was rushing and running towards him like a lightning bolt 
read to strike, and he stared straight into the light that no one could 
withstand.

	On the narrow track to the mountains, the train cut its way. 
Suddenly the man realized that the train was not going to stop for him. 
It was speeding away to shine its light on some other path. It was in 
this instant that all reason left him. He reached out to the train to 
capture its fury and it light. He dropped his worldly possessions to 
grasp his one true hope. 
	
	Littered baggage, little needed, was scattered across the 
platform. The ticket to the Flatlands spun in the wind and flew away in a 
sudden fierce flurry. There was a feeling of falling, falling, and then 
the incredible ecstasy of being lifted on the hands of joy.
	
	And it was in his moment of utter exaltation, that the train 
departed the station.