three

George sat by a window and waved a brief goodbye to Scott as the train pulled away, its heavy, metal body gaining speed. The train was almost empty, a young couple sleeping in one corner and an old man right at the far end, but the carriage was filled with the sound of mechanical power and the rhythmic clacking of the wheels upon the rails. The train rocked gently from side to side, and George could not resist the sleep that came.

Outside the day was brightening with the sky now shaded a lucid, pale blue. The sun was visible over the low hills that swept by in graceful formation, and one could tell that the day would be a hot one.

When George was wakened an hour later by the ticket inspector nudging his shoulder, he found that he felt sweaty and thirsty. He rummaged about in his pockets and withdrew his ticket, labelled with date, places, numbers of a code.

‘Seems like you’ve got a long journey,’ said the inspector as he punched a hole in the ticket. George nodded in agreement, and put the ticket back into his pocket. He wanted to sleep again, but the landscape outside held his attention.

The train was now skirting along the coastline and George was able to see, when the trees and bushed allowed it, a sea coloured white and flecked with reds, greens, and blues. Waves collided and tussled with one another, all the time rushing about the tall, stone stacks and skerries. High above the waves gulls glided. George observed all this with an intensity borne by something novel, something new to his senses that he found fascinating and beautiful, and as he again drifted to sleep, urged by the carriage’s heat and motion, his surroundings blended with dreams. The sea seemed a great sheet being washed, the rocks and cliffs became wandering beasts of great size, the birds above could be heard to be singing along with the train’s own tune.

It was not long however until the train was stopping at its next station, a small town, not dissimilar to the one George had left this morning. The platforms were covered by a wooden roof, and through the windows at the back there could be seen a set of streets, loaded with people busying about, and shops that from this distance could not be defined. To George’s sleepy eyes, fresh from viewing the world as a magical place, this town was a maze like hub of intricacies and fascinating distractions.

‘Excuse me,’ said George as he gained the ticket collector’s attention. ‘Could I get off here for a while and use my ticket to get the next train?’

‘Yes that’s fine, just make sure you don’t miss the last train at eight o’clock. Pass me your ticket.’ George did so and the official made a mark on with his pen. ‘There you go.’

George collected his bag and alighted onto the platform that welcomed him with the smell of lunch carried on a cool breeze. He was thankful for the chance to explore this village, similar in some ways to his own, but different enough to raise the imagination. He left the station and went to find a place to eat.