Train of thought

Freya never did fit in, she never really knew what to do with herself. When she is sent to live with her Uncle in the heart of the countryside she discovers that Slygate is not all what it appears to be. Experiencing vivid dreams and flashbacks will she ever find out the true meaning of her visions? There are watchers in the trees, with eyes everywhere and one of them has realised she is like them...

The rattling of wheels on the track signalled the arrival of the train. The rhythmic clacking grew louder and steam engulfed the station. Then out of the thick swirling vapour came the locomotive. Like a roaring beast of metal, the smoky smell of coal trailing behind, the steam engine emerged. As it ground to a halt steam billowing throughout the station Freya was jerked from her thoughts. She stood near the end of the platform a single trunk behind her. Blending in with the crowd, the few people on the platform at this early hour paid her no mind. Her brown hair was common, to everyone else she was just a young woman on a platform with a suitcase.

Freya sighed as the train stopped and let out a long hiss, the doors at the side were opened by the pristinely dressed guards. In unison they stepped down and allowed the small stream of passengers to enter the train. Tucking a strand of brown hair behind her ear the young woman took her suitcase and walked over to the third class carriage. She paused momentarily as the guard punched her ticket. There was a click and Freya blinked from her stupor just in time to smile politely to the guard, however forced it may have been.

She manoeuvred her suitcase down the narrow isle of the third class carriage and settled herself down on one of the fabric benches next to the window just as the train began to move out of the station. London was shrouded in mist, Big Ben jutting form the mist like a beacon to passing ships. It was a silly thought.

Staring out of the window, her chin resting on the heel of her palm Freya watched the terrace houses rolling away past the window. Never had she felt so alone on a train. The last time she had been on a train now was not the time to think about such things. The train was moving steadily out of the city towards the countryside. Her Uncle lived deep in the country side in a house, miles away from human civilization. 

Freya vaguely remembered the Mansion. It was cold and draughty with an overgrown garden, surrounded by towering trees. She hadn't been there for over eight years, her Uncle's face was a haze, but she remembered the moon. It was as large as the sun on the horizon, but glowing brightly with ethereal light.

"Papa why is the moon so bright?"

"It reflects your soul Freya."

"What's a soul?"

Her father knelt down beside her and poked her tummy. "It's inside you mouse, it's what makes you, you."

Squealing in delight the little girl giggled "Papa! Stop it!" as her father picked her up and span her around before setting her on the ground. She laughed giddily before asking breathlessly,

"But Papa, why is it so bright?"

"It's bright because you're pure as the stars, my girl."

"What's pure?" The girl asked brows furrowed in confusion, reaching her hand up as though to grab the moon.

"So many questions little mouse!" Her father poked her tummy again with eyes as alive as the moonlight. "Can you do something for me Freya?" The girl nodded her head vigorously, hair curving around her face. Her father tucked it behind her ears and smiled in an almost sad way "I want you to stay as bright as the moon, Freya. Promise me you'll stay bright for me?"

She frowned as though she was trying to process what he was saying before she nodded her head, "I-I'll try..."

"That's my little Dormouse..."


The End

0 comments about this story Feed