The woman's lustrous brown hair fell straight down the sides of her chiseled ivory face, but curled into
spirals near her chest. Her eyes were deep, gray oceans of thoughts that seemed tangible but swam around
the pupil, unspoken and concealed. She had a brittle, happy smile, and upon gazing down at it, a man's heart
skipped in anticipation of the moment his lips would meet hers again. It was only a matter of hours.
He took one last hungry look at the photograph and tucked it away, switching his focus instead to the
overlay of Scottish hills against the sumptuous afternoon sky. The sun seemed to rest atop the highest peaks
and bleed into the unknown valleys, surely exquisite but seen by no one. The shadowed summits looked
welcoming, but mysterious. His thoughts about beauty and simplicity soon became fragmented and he
looked away.
He had been on the train for hours – His body felt heavy and tired from inactivity, his eyelids drooping not
from fatigue but from lack of visual stimulation. The train car was empty. It smelled clean, untouched, and
seared the skin inside of his nose. The colors around him seemed to morph into a mess of white and blue,
nothing sure or distinct.
Just as he was about to succumb to the blackness behind his eyelids, he saw a head of black hair towards
the front of the train car, thrashing quickly then disappearing. He instinctively sat up straight and leaned
forward, hoping to catch a glimpse of the glistening black locks again, but the train looked as it had seconds
before – Empty.
The man rose from his seat and moved towards the front of his train car. When he found everything
undisturbed, he determined the black hair was imagined; a desire of his unconscious to be accompanied on
the long train ride. Laughing at his own misunderstanding he sauntered back to his seat, covered his eyes
with sunglasses and fell asleep.
Stars danced in the black sky above the hills. It took a few moments for his eyes to adjust to the bright lights
of the train car, but when they did, he meandered off to find a restroom a few cars ahead.
As the man was approaching the door of his train car after relieving himself, he saw a woman sitting in his
seat – Her face was narrow and her green eyes piercing. Slick black hair cascaded off her shoulders and she
bit her bottom lip before revealing a row of immaculate white teeth that stretched into a smile across her
alabaster face.
Before the man could process what he was seeing, he was walking slowly in the direction of the woman,
but as he got closer, she stood up and began striding away from him. He reached his seat and breathed in a
perfume he couldn't place, but which indulged all of his senses. His skin began to shiver and the woman
looked back at him, her green eyes certain and irrefutable. His thoughts became hazy but he followed her as
though he were being dragged.
The woman led him through several train cars and he was finally able to view her entire being. She was tall
and thin, but her hips, which dark jeans hugged tightly, curved out creating an hourglass. Her pin straight hair
reached the small of her back and her hands swayed as she walked. When she reached a door, she stopped
and fiddled with the handle, revealing a white shoulder.
She led the man into the luggage car. It was not lit and when she closed the door behind him, he saw
nothing but black.
“Who are you?” He spoke clearly and the sound of his voice startled him – He had not heard anyone speak
in hours.
“Shhh.” Her whisper echoed in his ear and he could hear her moving towards him, though he could not
place exactly where she was. It was only when the smell of her perfume blighted the air that he felt her cold
fingertips graze over his lips.
She kissed him, passionately, and although he didn't understand, he was unable to pull away from her. He
had not kissed anyone but his wife in years and it was a perplexing sensation, the mouth of a stranger. After a
few moments he retracted from her kiss.
“I'm married, I don't even know who you are. Why are you doing this? Who are you?” His eyes had become
adjusted to the darkness and he looked into the pools of green on her face, which lacked emotion but flashed
desire. She responded to his questions by unbuttoning his shirt and behind the door of the luggage car, their
two bodies met in a heated moment of rippling ecstasy and wholesomeness.
They did not emerge until the train stopped at the man's destination.
“My wife is waiting for me outside.” He stared at the woman and she smiled at him, satisfied with her
power. Reaching down to grab his hand, she touched his wedding band. The man felt nothing but warmth –
No regrets, no desire to leave the woman's side, no longing to meet his wife's lips once more. As she guided
him out onto the platform, he gazed at her porcelain face, so perfectly shaped and beautiful to him. He was
reminded of the scent of her perfume, now accompanied by riled up hair and sweat. His skin began to shiver
again.
“Joseph!” His name, called by his wife, broke his focus and he turned to see her – A short woman, with
brown hair you could swim in, and those familiar but foreboding eyes. She ran to him but stopped abruptly at
the sight of the woman with the long black hair. “Who is this?”
The black-haired woman dipped her head and revealed her teeth again, grinning widely. She brought
Joseph's hand up to her chest and removed his wedding band. Joseph did not argue or resist, surprising
both him and his wife. The woman took the band and handed it to the short woman at Joseph's side.
“What the hell is going on? Who are you?” Joseph laughed. It was a question he had also, a question he
had asked only an hour before. He felt drunk – Under the influence of the woman he had known for less than a
day, who seemed to be ending his marriage and taking him for her own. When Joseph's wife wouldn't take
the wedding band from her, she dropped it at her feet, took Joseph's face in her hands and kissed him.
Without protest, she led him away from his wife, down the platforms and out of the train station. Neither of
them looked back.
“We are now arriving at your destination. Please gather your belongings and prepare to exit when the train
comes to a full and complete stop.” The man's eyes opened and viewed the environment around him – An
empty train car, a mess of blue and white... He was alone in his seat with a foggy mind, though everything
seemed undeniably real.
It only took him a few moments to understand that he had conjured up the perfect black-haired mystery in
his sleep. A product that his sleeping mind couldn't comprehend, as it was too good to be true. And then he
suddenly recalled the final moments of the dream, when he allowed that woman to lead him away from his
wife. Guilt struck him in the chest and he pulled the photograph from his jacket, tracing the beautifully sculpted
face of his wife with the tip of his finger.
The train slowed to a stop and he rose to his still unsteady feet, preparing to make his way onto the
platform. Moments later he was being embraced tightly by arms he knew, familiar and loving. His wife looked
at him with a joy which knew no bounds, and it seemed silly to him, that she couldn't read his thoughts or see
into what his mind had done, what it had conjured up.
As he walked hand in hand down the busy corridor with his wife, he swore he saw a head of burnished
black hair pass them, swaying provocatively back and forth. He dismissed it and focused on nothing but his
steps and the woman next to him, afraid of what he would see if he looked back.
spirals near her chest. Her eyes were deep, gray oceans of thoughts that seemed tangible but swam around
the pupil, unspoken and concealed. She had a brittle, happy smile, and upon gazing down at it, a man's heart
skipped in anticipation of the moment his lips would meet hers again. It was only a matter of hours.
He took one last hungry look at the photograph and tucked it away, switching his focus instead to the
overlay of Scottish hills against the sumptuous afternoon sky. The sun seemed to rest atop the highest peaks
and bleed into the unknown valleys, surely exquisite but seen by no one. The shadowed summits looked
welcoming, but mysterious. His thoughts about beauty and simplicity soon became fragmented and he
looked away.
He had been on the train for hours – His body felt heavy and tired from inactivity, his eyelids drooping not
from fatigue but from lack of visual stimulation. The train car was empty. It smelled clean, untouched, and
seared the skin inside of his nose. The colors around him seemed to morph into a mess of white and blue,
nothing sure or distinct.
Just as he was about to succumb to the blackness behind his eyelids, he saw a head of black hair towards
the front of the train car, thrashing quickly then disappearing. He instinctively sat up straight and leaned
forward, hoping to catch a glimpse of the glistening black locks again, but the train looked as it had seconds
before – Empty.
The man rose from his seat and moved towards the front of his train car. When he found everything
undisturbed, he determined the black hair was imagined; a desire of his unconscious to be accompanied on
the long train ride. Laughing at his own misunderstanding he sauntered back to his seat, covered his eyes
with sunglasses and fell asleep.
Stars danced in the black sky above the hills. It took a few moments for his eyes to adjust to the bright lights
of the train car, but when they did, he meandered off to find a restroom a few cars ahead.
As the man was approaching the door of his train car after relieving himself, he saw a woman sitting in his
seat – Her face was narrow and her green eyes piercing. Slick black hair cascaded off her shoulders and she
bit her bottom lip before revealing a row of immaculate white teeth that stretched into a smile across her
alabaster face.
Before the man could process what he was seeing, he was walking slowly in the direction of the woman,
but as he got closer, she stood up and began striding away from him. He reached his seat and breathed in a
perfume he couldn't place, but which indulged all of his senses. His skin began to shiver and the woman
looked back at him, her green eyes certain and irrefutable. His thoughts became hazy but he followed her as
though he were being dragged.
The woman led him through several train cars and he was finally able to view her entire being. She was tall
and thin, but her hips, which dark jeans hugged tightly, curved out creating an hourglass. Her pin straight hair
reached the small of her back and her hands swayed as she walked. When she reached a door, she stopped
and fiddled with the handle, revealing a white shoulder.
She led the man into the luggage car. It was not lit and when she closed the door behind him, he saw
nothing but black.
“Who are you?” He spoke clearly and the sound of his voice startled him – He had not heard anyone speak
in hours.
“Shhh.” Her whisper echoed in his ear and he could hear her moving towards him, though he could not
place exactly where she was. It was only when the smell of her perfume blighted the air that he felt her cold
fingertips graze over his lips.
She kissed him, passionately, and although he didn't understand, he was unable to pull away from her. He
had not kissed anyone but his wife in years and it was a perplexing sensation, the mouth of a stranger. After a
few moments he retracted from her kiss.
“I'm married, I don't even know who you are. Why are you doing this? Who are you?” His eyes had become
adjusted to the darkness and he looked into the pools of green on her face, which lacked emotion but flashed
desire. She responded to his questions by unbuttoning his shirt and behind the door of the luggage car, their
two bodies met in a heated moment of rippling ecstasy and wholesomeness.
They did not emerge until the train stopped at the man's destination.
“My wife is waiting for me outside.” He stared at the woman and she smiled at him, satisfied with her
power. Reaching down to grab his hand, she touched his wedding band. The man felt nothing but warmth –
No regrets, no desire to leave the woman's side, no longing to meet his wife's lips once more. As she guided
him out onto the platform, he gazed at her porcelain face, so perfectly shaped and beautiful to him. He was
reminded of the scent of her perfume, now accompanied by riled up hair and sweat. His skin began to shiver
again.
“Joseph!” His name, called by his wife, broke his focus and he turned to see her – A short woman, with
brown hair you could swim in, and those familiar but foreboding eyes. She ran to him but stopped abruptly at
the sight of the woman with the long black hair. “Who is this?”
The black-haired woman dipped her head and revealed her teeth again, grinning widely. She brought
Joseph's hand up to her chest and removed his wedding band. Joseph did not argue or resist, surprising
both him and his wife. The woman took the band and handed it to the short woman at Joseph's side.
“What the hell is going on? Who are you?” Joseph laughed. It was a question he had also, a question he
had asked only an hour before. He felt drunk – Under the influence of the woman he had known for less than a
day, who seemed to be ending his marriage and taking him for her own. When Joseph's wife wouldn't take
the wedding band from her, she dropped it at her feet, took Joseph's face in her hands and kissed him.
Without protest, she led him away from his wife, down the platforms and out of the train station. Neither of
them looked back.
“We are now arriving at your destination. Please gather your belongings and prepare to exit when the train
comes to a full and complete stop.” The man's eyes opened and viewed the environment around him – An
empty train car, a mess of blue and white... He was alone in his seat with a foggy mind, though everything
seemed undeniably real.
It only took him a few moments to understand that he had conjured up the perfect black-haired mystery in
his sleep. A product that his sleeping mind couldn't comprehend, as it was too good to be true. And then he
suddenly recalled the final moments of the dream, when he allowed that woman to lead him away from his
wife. Guilt struck him in the chest and he pulled the photograph from his jacket, tracing the beautifully sculpted
face of his wife with the tip of his finger.
The train slowed to a stop and he rose to his still unsteady feet, preparing to make his way onto the
platform. Moments later he was being embraced tightly by arms he knew, familiar and loving. His wife looked
at him with a joy which knew no bounds, and it seemed silly to him, that she couldn't read his thoughts or see
into what his mind had done, what it had conjured up.
As he walked hand in hand down the busy corridor with his wife, he swore he saw a head of burnished
black hair pass them, swaying provocatively back and forth. He dismissed it and focused on nothing but his
steps and the woman next to him, afraid of what he would see if he looked back.
 |
 |
 |
| New Hampshire Writers |
| Frenzy by: Samantha Tirrell |