Finish the Story - Week #50/The Abysmal Biscuit - @bananafish

Intro:
The Abysmal Biscuit
by @F3nix

The awareness of the box's contents dripped slowly in Joelle's mind, coagulating like a graceless Rorschach's blot. Bones. Tiny tapered bones, standing out against the mahogany bottom.

The unusual item jolted on the worn chair, reacting to the vibrations of the old diesel-powered train. The convoy, the last of his lineage, still fulfilled its duty along the Brașov-Sighișoara route allowing students to return to their homes every weekend. To the rhythm of joints and sleepers, the whiteness of the remains continued to dance tremulously before the eyes of the young woman as the frames of her glasses slipped slowly from her nose.

In a tinkling clink of bracelets, the student closed the lid of the box and moved away as far as possible from it, crushing herself against the seat's padding. The lazy air of the air conditioner stuck to the bottom of her dry throat an acrid plastic taste.

And then she saw him. The old passenger had returned and was staring at her through the windows that led from the corridor of the car to the cabin. She listened to her own scream erupting and fill the cramped cab.

"I didn't want to scare you, young lady."

"N-not scared. No worries, sir." Somehow, Joelle managed to gather the few polite words her manners demanded. She could not have said how long he had been watching and if he had seen where curiosity had taken her. The glasses, temples up in the air, laid on the seat beside her.

The old man was tall and lanky, his burnished skin resembled the ancient scales of a dragon. Dressed in work trousers and a raw cotton shirt, he gave the impression of being one of those peasants whose families had inhabited the Carpathians for centuries.

Joelle's gaze passed involuntarily from the man to the funeral urn disguised as a biscuit tin: the representation of a merry-go-round in a lacquered colored wood and graceful workmanship. The children were swirling with their bent busts, perhaps because of the speed of the carousel. Their mouths were wide open and their hands clung to the poles skewering the horses. With a lump in her throat, she remembered the fleeting memory of just a few hours before, when a train was huffing at the central station and a gentle old man asked her help because he couldn't open the cabin door. She felt like something ruined down from her lungs to her guts.

"I see that you like my craft." In the silence, she could detect the old man's fingers caressing the box inlays.

"It's adorable. A gift for a grandchild?" Joelle realized only now that the object was his only baggage. In the warm twilight, the colors of lacquered wood seemed even more lively. The conifers thickened on the sides of the train, sliding quickly to the edges of her field of vision.

"Oh. A gift, says the young lady. Like a toy, perhaps?" The old man's eyes were two black bottomless pits. His gaze had slowly become vitreous like that of a deep-water fish, yet at the same time penetrating.

"Yes, a toy. I like how you see it, miss." The passenger continued, his voice getting thinner.

Only then, Joelle realized where they were heading: the train had just passed the old mill and would soon pass through the tunnels beneath the mountain.

"You may have noticed how I depicted all these children. Observe, miss, between a horse and the other: they are not alone." By pronouncing the last vowel, which he abnormally prolonged, his voice tone had become a slow and drawling rattle.

It was still too early for the wagons' lights to turn on and the tunnels were preparing to swallow the convoy.

A sound of nails carving into the wood tore the thoughts of the young student.

My Entry:

Joelle braced herself for the inevitable as the old iron horse trotted toward the abyss of the mountain tunnel.

She watched the mouth of the old passenger move as he spoke. The words turned into a buzzing whine that seemed to intensify with the shifting of the train car. Then, all at once, darkness enveloped them.

Usually the lights inside the train remained operational. However, this time, the lights in the train shut off as the train entered the tunnel. This break from the norm made Joelle scream again in fright.

“It will be alright miss,” the old passenger said clearly now.

Suddenly, the bright yellow lights of the tunnel wall began to flash through the windows at intervals. Joelle then realized the old passenger had disappeared.

She caught her breathe and scanned the train car. Her hands firmly grasping the box as the yellow lights filled the room before blackness took over again.

At first the train car remained empty, then the flash of yellow light, then darkness, and then yellow light returned, and Joelle could see a man sitting at a drum kit.

Again the progression of the yellow light, the void of blackness, and the yellow light again with a new man holding a bass guitar. This repeated once more only a man holding the lead guitar appeared.

Finally, the yellow light, darkness, and a man holding a microphone stood in front of her.

She felt in shock as she sat like a mute staring at these four new passengers. They looked like members of a punk rock band. She found them oddly attractive.

Then the train went dark again for an extended amount of time.

Joelle gave out another scream as she began to float in the air.

Flood lights once again illuminated the train car, and she could see the four musicians standing with their heads down. The sight kept her from going into hysterics. Yet it could not cease the weightlessness of her body as she floated in the train cabin.

Joelle noticed that the band had wires plugged into them as well as their instruments. They were like robots fused together with the train itself.

“Welcome Joelle. I’m the train’s AI. I’d like you to join Tortillas de Pelo as a permanent passenger on this hot pink bullet train. Or?”

“Or what?” Joelle asked.

“Release the box and you’re free to leave.”

Joelle let go of the box instantly. It began to float away from her. The band Tortillas de Pelo became animated. They’re eyes all opened as red laser lights shined in her direction. A robotic arm slid down from the ceiling to grasp the box in mid air.

Then the band began to play “Kelly Watch the Stars”.

The door of the train opened, and the vacuum of space pulled Joelle out into the unknown where she remained forever among the stars.

Thank you,
Cyrus Emerson

Also, available from the Author:

Steemit Blog: Contests – ebook, and now a new print edition available!
https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B07MVPT72Q?pf_rd_p=c2945051-950f-485c-b4df-15aac5223b10&pf_rd_r=JJKTKWBJWMDK97NQAVRR

Fear and Loathing in the State of Jefferson - ebook
https://read.amazon.com/kp/embed?asin=B079R5KLPN&preview=newtab&linkCode=kpe&ref_=cm_sw_r_kb_dp_GsURAbAVDYNEM

Lost Angel – Introduction with Ray Manzarek of The Doors
https://www.downpour.com/lost-angel?sp=249812

Red Roses - audiobook
https://www.audible.com/pd/Fiction/Red-Roses-Audiobook/B07F2LWHPN