Mr. Black

Mr. Black

     “Take my hand.”

     Was the first thing I ever heard Mr. Black say. I’ll never forget how deep and distant his voice sounded. With blurry vision, I looked up at his shadow from the cold, hard ground and whispered, “What happened?”

     “I knocked you out. How are you feeling?”

     “Umm, I feel okay considering.” I said, “Where am I? What do you mean, ‘knocked me out’ was there an accident?”

     “You are where I bring all of my… for a lack of better words, victims.”

     By this time I couldn’t even move. All I could think was, what the fuck is going on? I was having an okay day before waking up in this bright shit hole of a place.

     “I assure you, you’re not a victim, as of right now, and I don’t have any plans on making you one if you do what I need.” He said directly into my eyes without blinking.

     I sat up, put my hands over my face and started to rub my eyes. I’m not sure what he knocked me out with. I wasn’t bleeding, I didn’t have a bump, I just was out of it. I did get a Coke from the gas station, but I don’t remember him being in there. I would have noticed him. He is a very tall man. Black styled hair, like he was from the 40s. Very slick and proper looking. Wide shoulders and long arms. His grey eyes would look right through you and see you for what you are. I still get chills when thinking about him looking at me like that. He wanted something, and nothing was going to stop him. I feared for my life for the first time. All I could think at the time to ask was…

     “What is it that you want, sir?”

     “Want? Hell, I want a lot of things, little man. What I don’t want is to go to prison for a very long time. I say long time because this state doesn’t believe in the death sentence; so I’d rot for sure.”

     The state he talked about is California. I looked around while we was talking and noticed a table with something hanging off of it.

     “Listen, I need to leave town and require help finishing a few details of my plan so I can get the fuck out of here without any issue. Will you help?” Mr. Black asked.

     My eyes focused on the table and realized the bloody, boney legs hanging from under a cloth. I shot up, got under my legs and shagged ass as fast as my foggy brain would let me. Every turn I ran into brick walls. Rooms flooded with light like mini surgical rooms. Each room had tables in them with clothes covering something. Fuck, I thought my heart was going to explode until I felt Mr. Black kick my foot from behind me and I tripped over my own foot.

     “You’re one fast son-of-a-BITCH!!! You saw more than I wanted you to, but that’s okay. You run again and I will cut your feet off. Do you understand me, little man?”

     I still don’t know how he caught me. Yea, I was out of it, but never thought someone as big as him would be able to keep up. I told him I wouldn’t run again and he took me to the open area. By this time I was clear headed and found out I was in a storage unit lot. 10 units on each side of us, all full of… nightmares.

     “Are you listening, Kid?!” Mr. Black yelled.

     “Yes… sorry.” I said looking up at him.

     “You scared of that body under the cloth over there?”

     “Yes.”

     “Do you want to be a bloody piece of shit under one of my clothes?”

     “No.”

     “Do you want to get out of here today and be home in your warm bed by tonight?”

     “Yes.”

     “Good. And you will be. The cops are on my trail pretty closely; too close for comfort. I normally can control the outcome, but I’m not sure about this time… I need to leave and start over. What I need you to do is help me get this place ready to blow up.”

     “Blow up?! I don’t know anything about bombs!” I yelped.

     “You don’t know shit, that’s why I chose you. Don’t you know it’s rude to interrupt your elder? Shut the fuck up and listen. I already rigged the place, I just need help hanging this guy and making it look like he killed himself. I got the idea from my brother. He used to do that to his victims. So this guy is a John Doe I picked up, the cops will assume I killed myself. They don’t have any DNA from me, and this guy is a ghost; they’ll be okay just to go with it to close the case and move on with their lives.” Mr. Black said.

     “Okay, I’m ready to get this over with. I just want to go home.” I said. What else could I say? I was ready to get safe and call the cops when I was able to. We hung the guy, cut his throat after we hung him for overkill. “What now?”

     “I am going on my merry way. You just have to do one more thing.”

     “…”

     “Go in each unit and turn the levers to release the gas before you press that button next to the body… oh, and try to make it out alive. It’s going to happen very quickly after that button is pressed.” Mr. Black said with a smile.

     And he walked away. He thought I wasn’t going to make it out alive. He destroyed these bodies, but kept each room perfectly clean. The last room I went into was a makeshift kitchen. I think he was eating them. I went to the body after each lever was pulled and pressed the button and ran as fast as I could to the back of the lot. There was a RV I could hide behind. I barely made it. As soon as I got it to the RV, everything was on fire, including me. I got to the other side of it and rolled around in the sand until the fire was out. I never felt so much pain in my life and was thankful for it. I loved the pain in that moment, because it meant I made it; I was alive and free.

     So, that’s my story. I know it is hard to believe, but it’s the truth.

     “I don’t believe a word of it. Each room his prints and hair are all over. No one else was in that storage besides the defendant. You are a sick individual, sir, and I sentence you to death by lethal injection.” The Judge said.

     “We don’t have the death sentence in California, your honor.”

     “No, but Nevada does, and that’s where a few of the victims were from. Now get out of my sight.” The judge said with a blank expression.

     I guess I am one of Mr. Black’s victims after all.

The End

Stella and the Cassiopeia Station

Stella and the Cassiopeia Station

     There he is. I already know what he’s going to say. He says the same thing every single morning when I see him. “Hey, Stella! Welcome to the beautiful Cassiopeia Station! How is your morning so far?!” Maybe he will think of something new this time…

     “Hey, Stella! Welcome to the beautiful Cassiopeia Station! How is your morning so far?!” The man says.

     How did I know?

     “Same as every other morning. Kind of chilly, though. Say, why do you use the same exact words every morning? Just curious today, I guess.”

     “Well,” the man hesitates, “This is the famous Cassiopeia Station! Isn’t it grand?!”

     He isn’t lying about that. This station is gorgeous. They use tiles on the walls to form these pieces of art. Remarkable how vividly real they are. Each section of the station uses animals from different walks of life. Sea life on the west side, forest animals on the east, animals from the sky on the north and animals from cold regions on the south side. I love the ones of the frogs and turtles; they have them playing with each other on the wall next to the benches where I wait at…

     “Stella? You seem to be staring off into space, my dear. Are you okay?”

     “Yea, I’m fine. Just thinking about how right you are. This station is very beautiful. I can’t say the same for the Blue Line train, though. That must have been the very first track built here.” Stella say as she looks over the man’s shoulder on her tippy-toes.

     “Yes, it was. A very long time ago it was built to take the special people places no one else before them could reach…”

     Here it comes. I couldn’t even finish listening to Mr. Nice Guy over this loud ass train. Why would they have such a horrible looking train in a station this beautiful? I guess I never really thought about it before today. I feel off. Maybe it was the walk… Hmmm, I can’t remember the walk here…

     “We better board before they leave us behind, Stella. That would be a very bad thing, we don’t want that to happen. After you, my dear.” The man says.

     Every time I board this train, I look through the gap. I can’t even see the tracks, nothing but darkness and fog under the train. Like clockwork, I walk in, take a left, walk ALL the way down to the very end of the car and there is my seat by Mr. Nice Guy. No one is ever in my seat, ever. Come to think of it, no one is ever in his seat, either.

     My seat is made of some old wood that’s been dried out for some time. I get splinters sometimes if I sit the wrong way. All of the wood in here looks dried up and warped. Paint all faded and pealing in spots. No art in here, either. I knew it wasn’t the best train at the station, but I never really sat here and paid attention like this before.

     Everyone has their phones in their hands. Not looking at each other; never looking at each other. Even Mr. Nice Guy isn’t looking at me. He stops talking when we get on. So nice outside, then turns to stone once we sit. He doesn’t have a phone like the others. He reads the same book over and over: Birds-Eye View by J. F. Freedman. I haven’t read that in quite some time, but it’s about a man starting his life over after a tragedy. I wonder if Mr. Nice Guy is Mr. Sad Guy?

     “Why do you read that book every day, Mister?” Stella asked with curious eyes.

     Hmmm, nothing. The man that sits on the other side of me is always on his phone scrolling through his music list.

     “Sir, what kind of music are you listening to this morning?” Stella asked with a friendly smile.

     Wow. No one wants anything to do with me this morning. I need someone to notice me today. I want some answers; but I don’t have any questions. What a strange feeling this is. The woman down the aisle looked at me when I asked about the man’s music. I’m going to walk down there to say hi.

     “Hi, ma’am. I am Stella. How are you this morning?”

     “You should sit back down.” The woman whispered without making eye contact.

     “How come out of all these people, no one looks at me or away from their phones? What’s going on?”

     The train is speeding up and shaking. I think I better take this woman’s advice and sit back down. My seat seems so far away. Did I walk this far?

     “Do you know me? I feel like I know you…” Stella asks the man looking through music as she sits down.

     “I just want to find my song.” He says.

     That woman looked at me again when I asked him about his music. Like she is waiting for something. He looks familiar…

     “Jack!” Stella shouts in the man’s face. “The song you’re looking for is Simple Man by Crosby Stills and Nash!”

     How is he here? Why is Vanessa sitting on the other end of the car? This can’t be right. The last time I remember them we were…

     “It’s time to step off of the train, Stella.” Mr. Nice Guy says calmly.

     “Where did everyone go?” Stella asks with a confused look on her face.

     “They are at their destination now.”

     “Why am I here? What is this place? What happened to me?”

     “I can’t tell you these things. You have to work that out yourself. I can’t interfere with anything. You tell me what you remember…”

     Jack was looking for a song on his phone while we were on our road trip. He plugged into my car radio and started to play Simple Man and he knows it makes me cry, I tried to get his phone from him so I can change it. I couldn’t get to his phone, so I looked behind me at Vanessa and asked her to help and I lost control of the car and we landed in the water. There was nothing I could do after we hit the water. The windows were up because we had the air on, and I couldn’t roll them down because everything quit working as soon as we hit. Jack tried punching the windows and broke one of his arms. Vanessa tried using one of the seatbelt buckles to break the back window, but that didn’t help. I read somewhere that taking off the headrest and using the rods to smash the window out works, but I was beside myself and too weak. Water was to our chest by then. It was pouring in from the vents. I was helpless… We held each other until I blacked out. My last thought was how could I let this happen? How could I do this to them?

     Fuck… Where am I? Hell?

     “No, this isn’t what you call Hell. The Blue Line of the Cassiopeia Station runs for the aimless; the unforgiven. Even though Jack and Vanessa forgave you from the start. They stuck around to make sure you got off of the Blue Line, because frankly, you don’t belong here. You couldn’t help what happen, and I might be breaking my own rules, but I’m letting you choose what line you want to take to your next life.” Mr. Nice Guy says.

     “What line did they take?”

     “I’m sure they are waiting for you at your favorite bench.”

     “How are we back at Cassiopeia Station? Doesn’t the Blue Line actually go anyplace?” Stella asks.

     “Cassiopeia Station’s trains go anywhere and everywhere. There is no place these trains can’t go, besides the Blue Line. It just circles back to the station. It gives the riders time to decide their fate.”

     Looking down with tears in her eyes, “How long have I been on the Blue Line?”

     “110 years. Each ride on the Blue Line is around 43 days in your time on earth. Stella?”

     “Mister?”

     “I rode with you every day waiting for this time to come. I couldn’t interfere, but had to wait for you to come around and except things so you could move on to your next venture.”

     “Thank you for looking after me.” Stella says as she gives the man a tight hug.

     “It was my pleasure. I never want to see you on Blue Line again.” He says with a smile. “Goodbye, Stella.”

     “Goodbye, Mister.”

     Where is my bench? Where is my bench? I see the polar bears on the wall, it must be further up and to the right. There it is, and there they are. My frog and turtle on the wall with Jack and Vanessa waiting for me with big smiles. I can’t wait for this ride into… well, the exciting unknown.

The End