The Unconfirmed Ticket

 

I had a waiting ticket. I wasn’t sure it would get confirmed.

The station was packed, every single person there wanted to go to Point B.

When I was a kid, my mom used to tell me stories about Point B. She said it was beautiful. Serene. There’s a Master there who takes care of everyone who arrives, but no one has really seen Point B firsthand. Just stories. Myths. Some people claimed they’d been there, stayed a while, then came back. Hard to believe, honestly. But Point B always had a soft corner in my heart. From the moment I gained rationality, I wanted nationality there. Also, yes, jokes like these apparently work in Point B, so bear with me.

Everyone at the station looked both distinct and oddly similar. They all carried some kind of injury. Some were visible, bandaged limbs, bruised faces. Others… not so much. But you could tell. Some people were walking around. Some were sleeping peacefully on the floor. I waited in the waiting room. Our train was running a bit late.

There’s a saying: The train to Point B is always late when you want it early, and always early when you don’t want it at all.

In the waiting room, I met a family. They had about ten suitcases stacked beside them.

“All this yours?” I asked.

“Yes,” the woman said proudly. “It’s our fortune from point A”

I smirked, knowing they wouldn’t be allowed to board with that much luggage. I only had a water bottle with me. Water, thankfully, is allowed everywhere.

Then came the announcement: “Point B Express is arriving on Platform.”
Everyone rushed to the platform in a loud, chaotic clutter.

I moved slowly towards my bogie and found my seat. Since it was not confirmed, it was already half-occupied, by a four-year-old girl. She sat alone. No parents around.

Only if you’re very lucky, or very unlucky, can you take your parents to Point B with you.

I sat across from her. She had nice hair. She also had a water bottle.

“Did you drink the same water?” I asked her.

She didn’t answer. Maybe she was too scared to speak. Or maybe she hadn’t learned to talk yet.

I looked around the carriage. All sorts of people. The TC came in, checked our breath one by one, and moved on.

The train started moving. The platform was left behind, ready for the next batch of Point B hopefuls.

As the train pulled out, I saw the name of the station: Point A.

No one knows how far Point B is from Point A. It’s an undefined distance. But I was about to find out.

We passed hills, serene beaches, even what looked like galactic landscapes. Outside the window, I saw people walking around naked, free. They had nothing with them. Not even water.
And strangely, I wasn’t feeling thirsty anymore either.

The little girl in front of me started yawning. Maybe she wanted to sleep. I offered her my lap. She hesitated, then slowly leaned in. Her head rested gently on me.

Her hair was soft… but soaked in blood.

The moment I saw that, I felt a pinch in my chest. As if someone was pounding on my heart from the inside. I started to feel dizzy.

And thirsty.

I gently moved her aside and reached for my bottle. But I couldn’t gulp down even a single drop. The water just fell out. Slipping through my lips like air.

Panicked, I looked around and begged others for water. No one responded. They stared at me, confused, surprised. I tried to touch one of them, but they crumbled like sand in my hands.

The TC came running. He told me to sit down. Checked my breath again.

Without a word, he pulled the emergency chain.

The train screeched to a halt.

The TC, along with some staff, pushed me out of the train. A small cart was waiting on the tracks. They tied me to it and sent me rolling in the opposite direction.

Back toward Point A.

I looked up. The little girl was still in my seat, smiling. She blew me a kiss as I rolled away, as if she was congratulating me for something.

I wanted to be on that train. I felt like I belonged there. But I couldn’t do anything.

The cart zoomed past the same oceanic views, the same mountains. The same naked people, now staring at me with deadpan expressions, unaware of the fact that just moments ago, I was one of them.

Eventually, we reached back to the Point A station. Another TC stood there, waiting.

He came to me and yelled in a heavy voice

"Not Confirmed."

It’s been a year since I almost reached Point B.

When I tell my family, they don’t believe me. Not even my mom, the one who used to tell stories of people who went to Point B and came back. She doesn’t believe it.

Maybe she’s right. Technically, I never reached.

I was just… on the journey.
To Point B.
With a ticket.
That wasn’t confirmed.