Day 515

We went on the train to get to a better place but found ourselves lost.
The destination was supposed to be the other side of the country, the warmer, sunnier side.
We drove straight through the more recognisable cities.
Their names came and went and faded into obscure memory as we kept on going.

There was seemingly no end in sight, no more stops came.
No more houses either save the villages we thought we saw through the grimy windows.
The whole train was grimy, coated in a layer of sticky grey residue.
If you didn't move for a while you became quite stuck and had to peel yourself off.

Happened to me once and I was left with a bloodied patch where skin had been.
Some fared worse, just stuck facing the windows, their skin turning as grey as their seats.
We left them well alone, not that they ever talked when they got like that.
Some managed to mumble but mostly smoke poured from their mouths.

The stewards on the train knew as little as we did.
Still they were constantly finding fresh food in their supply room that they handed out twice daily.
We were kept alive, all of us, even the ones who became lost to the train.
It's strange to think now of how far we've come since then.

After what we calculated to be two and a half years the train pulled into a town called Noltsby.
Everyone who could move fled as quickly as possible, leaving the lost behind.
We started our lives in the empty homes there, eaking out our existence and fearing the train's return.
Sometimes it comes and brings more survivors, sometimes it just sits full of the lost.

There seem to be more and more lost every year but never the same faces twice.
Somewhere along the line they are removed or perhaps they are warped with time.
Who knows how many have just faded into the fabric of the furnishings.
We are glad to not be among them yet we all dream we are.