From heaven to hell

Slightly to the right, Slightly to the left.

And once again, I have missed the train.

Barely.

Just barely.

The glass wall blocking me from my perfect schedule taunts me, forcing me to watch the train zoom past my face. Cabin by cabin, carriage by carriage, I watch empty seats that seem to hold my shadow disappear into the dark tunnel, leaving only a shampoo commercial and my reflected face of annoyance. 

The station then becomes quiet, tranquil even. And everyone else who missed their train (as I have) shuffles slowly to one end of the station. Having nothing better to do, I follow. We shuffle right and left, slowly and sometimes quickly. There are many of us. Male, female, boy, girl, adult, child. We are all united together by the common fact that we have just barely missed the train.

Slightly to the left,
Slightly to the right.

Over the top and under,
Across, and between.

The walk can also be described as peaceful. There are a little minor disturbances here and there but we do not pay heed. We do not bear heed to the cries of abuse, the screams of slaughter, or the nagging of the people. Those will only serve to ruin our perfect tomorrow. We are almost at the end of the station, able to see it with our eyes, catch it with our hands, we are so close to our final destination, yet so far.

Suddenly, a awoken. The shuffling seems to have awoken him, as his eyes dart across and about. He knows that something isn't right, that this merry bunch of  shuffling people are people at all. He reflects on his sins, and as he does, just realises exactly how he's no less different from the shufflers. That's alright, join us again, we still welcome you comrade.

But he does not join us again, instead he chooses the most foolish of choices- defecting. The fool, he cannot escape once in our grasp. Once in our boundaries, you are doomed to shuffle for eternity, until all of us here reach the promised land. The defector looks for a way to escape.

Slightly to the left,
Slightly to the right.

Over the top and under,
Across, and between.

But of course, he couldn't find an escape route. Most of us have caught on to what he's thinking. Our eyes dart around. We all see the same gaze, the same hateful, vengeful gaze. We have decided what to do.

Our shuffling comes to a halt.

Like a bunch of soldiers, our shuffling stops in unison. Unlike zombies or other lazy people, we stop in unison. There is no uncertainty of our own movements, and there is no smooth transition to the next action. There is only that sharp step forward, filing us into a small cube. And then we start turning,
Turning
Turning
Turning

And in the centre, the one who didn't turn. The defector. What should we do with him? He after all, betrayed us all, throwing away his responsibility to the future promised land. Three of us wants to remove him, another wants him beaten up. More of us want him to pay a fee for his troubles before leaving.  But then, a child speaks out. Presenting us and idea. An idea that would not arouse m discomfort into the people around us,  one that will cloak this grizzly bear with a teddy bears suit. The  defectors face goes pale. He has heard what everyone has decided for him. And he knows that it's the end of the line for himself.

For  the next few minutes, our comrades will put a finger to their lip. The air goes heavy and cold, but I guess that's just how all train stations work.

"Nothing happened"

we all say as some people deal the deed.

"He's left"

we tell the woman searching for him.

"Probably made the last train, lucky bastard"

The woman knows something is off, but can't find exactly what's wrong. Suspecting of our smiles and happy voices, she leaves us be. At this moment, a cry is heard, and we quickly form back into our little cube. On the cry of 1, 2, 3, we continue shuffling again.

(From here on I do not know the story. I can only fabricate events. I do not say this because, I myself am a defector, but more because that no one has seen what would happen next. Not our leader, not any of my comrades.)

We have finally reached our goal, the promised land as so to speak. Chairs and benches lie about, fitting of this once tranquil atmosphere. But our fake smiles and cheers make this place brighter than the sun. We can see the cafe right in front of us, that little small spot that feels so much like home.

And from there, we don't know what to do. Do we disperse? Do we stick together?
Nobody says a word,
Nobody moves a muscle.

We stand there, seeing our goal right in front of our eyes, in between arms reach, and yet, no one is making any moves, leaving us just there, standing.

A woman, near 10 I assume, doesn't seem like she can take this anymore, she can't bear just standing there doing nothing, stopping when their goal is just right ahead. So she takes centre stage. She fights her way to the front, pushing some people here and there, annoying them a little. Their eyes look down at her with discontent and anger. But when she finally do reach the front, no one is complaining. Their eyes show hatred and sadness but none of them oppose her. And so, she has gained control over all of us. And with a clap, we get ready to disperse.

But I disagree.

This has been a valuable experience to me. I don't just want to disperse.

And before I even know, I have speaker my thoughts out loud.

Their motions are then rigid, like that of a mechanical doll. They turn to look at me.
Turning
Turning
Turning

And in the centre, the one who didn't turn. The defector. What should we do with him? They think. He after all, betrayed us all, throwing away his responsibility to the future promised land. But they already know what they're going to do. They have decided all to early ago.

And for the next few minutes, my (past) comrades will put finger to their lip.The air goes heavy and cold, but I guess that's just how all train stations work.

"Nothing happened"

A train whizzes in, and I snap back into reality. For some reason, I'm at the end of the train station, that spot where they pile up all the chairs and benches. Even more strangely, there seem to be an odd bunch of people just standing there.

The doors open, and I hurriedly take a seat. But what's so strange, is that no one enters the train with me, the train is empty l, even though it was ever so crowded outside. What could have happened? I wonder.

Well, it couldn't be that important, maybe just me hallucinating again. And as the doors of the train close, I put my head on my backpack, falling into a deep sleep, not noticing the small little cube of humans outside, shuffling towards some empty wall,

Slightly to the left,
Slightly to the right.

Over the top and under,
Across, and between.