Blinking lights.

An assignment in my text class asked of us to listen to this song and write something based off of it. I was told to work on my descriptions as my texts are often heavy with dialogue, and decided to do as much of the short story as I could without any dialogue at all. And, well - this is the result.

Blinking lights.

Blinking lights, and wet ground. It was the perfect scene for a photographer with a liking to large cities and their nightlife. The sun had gone down hours ago, leaving the land in darkness, as the humans clung to the last sources of light that kept their minds safe of the things hiding in the places they couldn?t see, scared out of their wits of what might go bumping in the night while they were looking the other way.

Murky alleyways and dirty street corners, as people went on with their nightly lives ? going home from work, going to work, running through the streets in the hope of finding somewhere safe to sleep for the night, be it a somewhat dry dumpster or a fancy-looking park bench with a newspaper to shade them from the world. Colours of blue, yellow, red and green running within the black of the city being the last images on their mind before they closed their eyes and went to sleep.

Joseph closed his eyes and inhaled the cold air of the city, mixed with fumes and toxins the human body was meant to shun away, leading him to cough lightly and open his eyes, his cheeks slightly pink with embarrassment as he turned his head to see if anyone was watching him. Though the air around him would never be filled with quiet as long as the human race existed, he was happy to see that his little blunder had gone unnoticed for the time being.

Walking down a simple street, Joseph was one of those heading for home. He was also one of those people that couldn?t believe their lives had led to this ? nervously making their way through the streets as they made their way from stupid and low-paying jobs that really ought to consider some sort of protection for their employees, if only the right to carry a taser without being arrested on sight.

Though he wasn?t honestly worried to be attacked by the homeless or desperate, he would still have preferred to know the computer in his backpack would stay safe the whole way home, rather than to clutch it nervously to his side as his shoes made obnoxiously loud sounds, walking down the empty street on his own.

The wind was picking up as he closed in on the underground station that would take him home. Happy to be out of the cold air, Joseph loosened his scarf as he walked down the stairs, picking out his one-day ticket to run through the machine, gaining access to the rest of the complex.

There was a small amount of people already waiting - someone smoking in the corner, a long and thin woman with a young child, a few teenagers trying to dare each other into getting the first one to buy them cigarettes. It seemed none of them was winning the argument.

Joseph leaned against the wall, incredibly self-aware as the faint smell of burgers and fried potatoes reached his nose from his hideous uniform, not wanting to call any attention to himself, even as his gaze drifted over to the mother, trying to calm her child down. The boy was tired, probably after a long day of travel judging by their suitcases, and the time was nearing five in the morning.

The mother sighed and drew her hand through her son?s hair, throwing him an apologetic look as she mistook his staring for annoyance at the sounds emitting from the child?s mouth. He gave her a quick smile and shook his head slightly, hoping to indicate that she didn?t need to apologize to anyone, a bubbly and warm feeling rising in his stomach that he often felt at the sight of beautiful women, but too often ignored. Her gaze was thankful as she turned it back to the boy, who was pretending to be Godzilla, and the suitcase was the Empire State building.

Five, possibly ten minutes passed as they waited ? some in silence, others speaking in hushed voices. They were joined by a small crowd of business-looking people in grey suits and skirts, rich men and women headed back to their hotel after a night of heavy drinking at a nearby conference. Joseph sighed, shifting against the wall where he?d positioned himself, mostly in order to avoid sitting down next to the teenagers, who looked like the kind that would take offense to that sort of thing.

There was a loud and terrible sound, cutting through the silence like an atom bomb as the train arrived, rolling into place and opening the doors with a loud hissing noise. Joseph wasn?t the last to enter, and was treated with a seat by himself on the left side in the back of the wagon, where two seats was placed opposite each other on each side, one facing the station and the other facing the wall. The boy from earlier ran through the wagon and placed himself opposite to Joseph as his mother slowly and carefully carried both of their suitcases, profoundly apologizing to anyone she bumped into on the way.

He was on his feet and helped her the last couple of metres, if only to appear better in the eyes of the others, who gave him annoyed stares as he reminded them of their own selfishness by helping someone in need. She thanked him, a bright and tired smile on her face as she sat down next to her son, who in turn gazed at Joseph, astonished that someone other than himself had noticed his mother?s existence.

Then, another loud sound, as the train moved forward, shaking and snaking its way through the underground tunnels, sometimes leading them up above the ground where they would have seen stars, had they not been hidden behind clouds of pollution and rain.

The wagon reeked of something unidentifiable, which Joseph quite honestly didn?t want to know the origins of, and even the teenagers had fallen silent as they realized they were finally on their way to their last destination, where they could fall into their beds and forget the world for another night, before the day came back to hit them in the face, and the whole thing started over again.

Underground again, black and dirty walls flying past at top speed ? stopping, letting people off, letting people on, and continuing. Joseph was scared he would fall asleep if it continued much longer, as the previously loud noise had grown into the background, and the shaking did nothing but softly pushing him out of sleep as his eyes slid shut every now and then. On the other side, the mother gave him a gentle smile, apparently recognizing the problem he was having. And, as he opened his mouth to say something, to get to know her perhaps, there was a large bang as things went black.

As he drifted between consciousness and precious abeyance, Joseph wondered if he was dead already. A sharp pain in his foot told him otherwise, but failed to inform him whether this was a state he would stay in for long, or if he was granted a few last minutes on Earth before he passed on to another plane of existence. His thoughts went to the mother, and to the things they could have done together ? raised her son, travelled together, grown old together.

Joseph opened his eyes, and a third thought registered, informing him that his left arm was no longer functional either, alongside his left foot. There was a noise that he soon realized was coming from his own mouth, a gurgled attempt to exist as he pushed on the object keeping him from moving freely - only to discover it was a large portion of the train he?d recently been sitting in, or more specifically, the seats.

His eyes passed over the rest of the wagon, looking specifically opposite to himself, half hoping to see the mother and the boy watching him with confused looks, unharmed but discomforted at the sight of a young man trapped beneath the seats of a blown-up train wreck.

His prayers went unanswered, as he saw nothing opposite to himself but the grimy walls of the tunnels they?d been travelling through, black ash from an explosion having added to the grime. A look upwards confirmed that they were nearly outside, as he could see the sky above the other wagons, spread out in the tunnel.

Unfortunately, that?s when he saw the other passengers. His eyes began to sting as tears threatened to make themselves present, and he couldn?t move. One of the teenagers opened his mouth and tried to speak, but didn?t seem able to find the right words.

The teenager was dying, an iron handle from the wagon poking through his chest. If he?d found the words, they?d most likely be his last, and Joseph could do naught but to stare as life left him, a frightened look in his eyes as he realized the world was turning bleaker around him, and Joseph wanted to scream as the teenagers fell forward, with no muscles alive to keep him up.

?Mum??

It was possibly the most heart-wrenching thing Joseph had heard in his small lifetime, especially as he realized whom the voice belonged to. With effort, he managed to turn his head from the deceased, looking downwards towards the darkness in the tunnel, where a single child was standing. The boy, from earlier, clutching the lifeless arm, presumably his mothers.

?Mum, stop it. My tummy hurts.?

The child shook her arm, and only now did Joseph notice he had thrown the other around his stomach, almost in a protective manner. Another gargling sound, from Joseph?s own mouth, as he tried to explain what was going on. Which, he had to admit, was somewhat idiotic, as he didn?t really have any idea either, and how was he supposed to explain any of what was going on, to a boy of seven, or eight?

?Mum.?

?Hey,? Joseph called softly, surprised to find how dry his voice was. He briefly wondered how long he?d been out, before a face turning in his direction reminded him of the current situation.

?Mr. Nice Man.? So that was his new nickname. The boy clutched his stomach tightly, giving him a bright smile. ?Mum won?t move.?

?I-? Joseph couldn?t see the damage from his position. With his left side pressed beneath the seats, he could only barely raise his head, which wasn?t enough to see where the boy?s mother way lying. ?I can?t see, I?m sorry.?

?I?ll help.? The boy?s voice was filled with determination as he gently put his mother?s hand on the ground, walking over to Joseph, flinching slightly as he moved.

?Hey, are you hurt?? Joseph asked, worriedly. He remembered him mentioning a pain in his stomach earlier.

The boy seemed confused. ?I?ve got a bit of an owie,? he admitted. ?Mum?ll kiss it better when she wakes up.?

Joseph couldn?t bring himself to answer, as the boy sat down beside him and gave the seats a gentle push, in an attempt to move them.

?They?re stuck,? he complained, giving them another feeble shove, before he suddenly looked fatigued, lying down next to Joseph, claiming to be tired.

Turning to look at the small boy next to him, he saw that he?d finally let go of his stomach ? which was red with blood. Joseph had to keep himself from giving a shout of surprise. The boy was incredibly pale, more visible now as the light was better, breathing slowly with long gasps.

?Don?t fall asleep, okay?? Joseph said, trying to remember what little he knew about first aid. ?What?s your name??

?Sebastian.? He grinned brightly at him, as if he was very proud of that name. ?I was named after a pirate, Mum says.?

?Really,? Joseph said. ?That?s a nice name, Sebastian. You just work on staying awake, yeah? Be strong for your Mum.? The boy was probably in shock, that?s why he had a difficult time recognizing the pain, or a dead body when he saw one.

?Mum says I always stay awake too long,? Sebastian laughed, almost a hysterical sort of laughter as his eyes began to tear up from the effort of staying conscious.

?Yeah? What do you like to do?? Joseph asked, making his left arm give an experimental, but frail, push on his boundaries. Of course his phone was in his left pocket ? anything else would have been too easy.

?I like to play football,? Sebastian mused. ?And play video games. And my mate Albert says that I?m good with the guitar, but we only ever played it on video games ?cause his dad won?t let us try his real one.?

?That?s good,? Joseph said. ?You do that a lot, yeah??

Sebastian made a humming sound of agreement, before breaking into a violent coughing fit. ?My tummy hurts,? he complained again, shuffling closer to Joseph as he put a hand over his stomach again. In a rare fit of sympathy, he stretched out his good arm and put it around the boy, stroking his shoulder.

?It?ll be okay,? he promised. ?We?ll be found soon, and then we?ll get something for your tummy, and we?ll get your mum some help.?

Sebastian sniffed and buried his face in Joseph?s burger uniform. There was blood dripping from his stomach area, making the older man inhale air in an attempt to calm himself down, while the young boy shook lightly as he began crying. It seemed the initial shock was finally dying, and Joseph couldn?t do anything but to rub Sebastian?s shoulder as the pain went through him.

Eventually, the boy stopped shaking. Joseph thought for a moment he?d calmed down, until he noticed he wasn?t breathing either.

?Hey,? he tried, shaking him slightly. ?Hey, Sebastian ? wake up.?

No reaction.

?Seb, come on,? biting his own lip, he decided to give the boy?s cheek a light smack. ?Seb, wake up, come on buddy, and don?t do this. Sebastian??

The boy?s head slipped off his shoulder, and hit the wagon?s floor with a low thud.

?Oh, God.? Joseph was starting to panic. A cold wind was blowing through the opening further away, alongside small portions of rain from the outside. Blinking lights, and wet ground. It was the perfect scene for a photographer with a liking to horrible scenes mixed with beautiful scenery in the background.

He thought he could hear the sound of sirens in the distance, closing in.

Blinking lights, and wet ground.

Silence.

"This apocalypse must end. It is not sanctioned by me - I simply do not have the time for it!"

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