032414 -- The Luck Of The Lexington Line
Mar. 24th, 2014 12:45 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
memorialrainbowThe Luck Of The Lexington Line
a very very creative nonfiction
In a cramped world with no breathing room, I was trying to be someone I'm not.
She frequents this room all of the time, but he's the one who maintains it.
Elaborate clockwork lines the walls of the huge hall, reaching up to the dark ceilings. Gears shift together, clicking with each tick of time that passes. Two delicately balanced figures stand on top of two gears, one of her, the other of her white-haired partner. Both are in full uniform, blue jackets with red stripes, which tells something about when this room was created. The automatic turning sprinklers tch-tch-tch-tch around in a circle, then completing their revolution backward with their usual brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.
Because, Millie thinks to himself as he resets one of the sprinklers, sometimes things were meant to go backwards.
--
The boys and girls stand in a circle,
raising and lowering their slicing hands.
The imaginary and the real can't be the same thing.
He is eight years older and his soul is a thousand percent harder than hers ever will be. The city he was born in ensures that.
Millie greases down one of the gears in between shifts. He's a giga; he's fast enough to do this and not get his fingers stuck. Especially with the registration trade. "I'm surprised you're here."
"I shouldn't be." He never says his name. He is mysterious and dark, like the night. Millie eventually just calls him Batman.
Millie looks up at the gears. "You know what this room is, right? A destiny threader. It keeps everything going the way it's supposed to. I'm sure my dad knows about this room, but he doesn't point it out. I found it on my own." Just like Griffon found the room with the TVs, he thinks to himself. Dad never told Griffon about that. He just knew where to look. "The gears were going about three years ago when she first came to this city, and then stopped mysteriously one day." It wasn't so mysterious; Millie knows that day well.
"And then what happened?" Batman is studying one of the sprinklers.
Millie can't tell him the truth. He doesn't say that, a year to the date after this room stopped spinning, his dad started weaving his own destiny threads into her life. It wasn't soon after that when Griffon found the TV room, and he found this room, and started tending to it again. He doesn't say that she had known of this room, back when the sky was a brighter blue and the six train was consistently late. These days, the six train is so far behind that nobody even rides it anymore, and the two crosses over to the five line more days than anybody cares to.
But Millie knows the secret of the six train. He should know. He is the six train now.
"The room started spinning again in December," he says. That much is true. The beginning of December eliminated his father from the picture and brought this man in to clean up the messes. And yet, she still follows him with a blind eye and a loving heart, because that's the reason she came to this city in the first place.
In a glittering, sparkling dream, the two of us made a promise.
And until that day comes, I won't cry.
I'll pray and laugh for you. I'll remember you.
Batman's eyes go to a particular line. This one is much, much thicker than all of the other ones, which are simple red strings of fate. This one is basically a trunk line. "What's this?"
"Oh, that? I haven't quite figured it out yet." That's an honest statement. Millie knows it's supposed to be there. But his dad won't make any mention of it. Perhaps Uncle Magnum knows something about it, but he's so busy helping Dad these days that Millie never gets a word in edgewise.
There was a day, a long time ago, when she hated everything that had happened. And she had chosen Millie, and they had lived alone in this city, finding their way and making it one day at a time. Until she started chasing stardust down again and remembered. She always remembers everything, even if she forgets it...but he can't even remember what this red wound trunk line is for.
"You're helping her more than you know," he remarks to Batman. And that's true as well. The charges, the constant fixing of her memories, teaching her things she needs to know. Dad says not to trust him. Millie retreats into this room when he says that.
"I'm glad. I can't be there all of the time."
"But you're there enough. It's breaking the spell." He touches one of the gears. "Sometimes they speak to me. They tell me a story about a girl who took the local train every day, until it was too late. She eventually took an express...but the question I have now is, was it supposed to take her to Nereid Avenue or Dyre?"
Batman doesn't understand.
Neither does Millie.
With each choppy movement I make, I remember something important.
Just like clockwork, I smile.
I need you to wind me up, so that our story doesn't end yet.
On the surface level, the two and five trains run parallel to each other, exactly on time. The 1 and A go about their business happily. Today is a day for penguins and bubbles.
And a lonely train sits in the Eastchester terminal, waiting patiently for the clockwork room to catch up.
a very very creative nonfiction
In a cramped world with no breathing room, I was trying to be someone I'm not.
She frequents this room all of the time, but he's the one who maintains it.
Elaborate clockwork lines the walls of the huge hall, reaching up to the dark ceilings. Gears shift together, clicking with each tick of time that passes. Two delicately balanced figures stand on top of two gears, one of her, the other of her white-haired partner. Both are in full uniform, blue jackets with red stripes, which tells something about when this room was created. The automatic turning sprinklers tch-tch-tch-tch around in a circle, then completing their revolution backward with their usual brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.
Because, Millie thinks to himself as he resets one of the sprinklers, sometimes things were meant to go backwards.
--
The boys and girls stand in a circle,
raising and lowering their slicing hands.
The imaginary and the real can't be the same thing.
He is eight years older and his soul is a thousand percent harder than hers ever will be. The city he was born in ensures that.
Millie greases down one of the gears in between shifts. He's a giga; he's fast enough to do this and not get his fingers stuck. Especially with the registration trade. "I'm surprised you're here."
"I shouldn't be." He never says his name. He is mysterious and dark, like the night. Millie eventually just calls him Batman.
Millie looks up at the gears. "You know what this room is, right? A destiny threader. It keeps everything going the way it's supposed to. I'm sure my dad knows about this room, but he doesn't point it out. I found it on my own." Just like Griffon found the room with the TVs, he thinks to himself. Dad never told Griffon about that. He just knew where to look. "The gears were going about three years ago when she first came to this city, and then stopped mysteriously one day." It wasn't so mysterious; Millie knows that day well.
"And then what happened?" Batman is studying one of the sprinklers.
Millie can't tell him the truth. He doesn't say that, a year to the date after this room stopped spinning, his dad started weaving his own destiny threads into her life. It wasn't soon after that when Griffon found the TV room, and he found this room, and started tending to it again. He doesn't say that she had known of this room, back when the sky was a brighter blue and the six train was consistently late. These days, the six train is so far behind that nobody even rides it anymore, and the two crosses over to the five line more days than anybody cares to.
But Millie knows the secret of the six train. He should know. He is the six train now.
"The room started spinning again in December," he says. That much is true. The beginning of December eliminated his father from the picture and brought this man in to clean up the messes. And yet, she still follows him with a blind eye and a loving heart, because that's the reason she came to this city in the first place.
In a glittering, sparkling dream, the two of us made a promise.
And until that day comes, I won't cry.
I'll pray and laugh for you. I'll remember you.
Batman's eyes go to a particular line. This one is much, much thicker than all of the other ones, which are simple red strings of fate. This one is basically a trunk line. "What's this?"
"Oh, that? I haven't quite figured it out yet." That's an honest statement. Millie knows it's supposed to be there. But his dad won't make any mention of it. Perhaps Uncle Magnum knows something about it, but he's so busy helping Dad these days that Millie never gets a word in edgewise.
There was a day, a long time ago, when she hated everything that had happened. And she had chosen Millie, and they had lived alone in this city, finding their way and making it one day at a time. Until she started chasing stardust down again and remembered. She always remembers everything, even if she forgets it...but he can't even remember what this red wound trunk line is for.
"You're helping her more than you know," he remarks to Batman. And that's true as well. The charges, the constant fixing of her memories, teaching her things she needs to know. Dad says not to trust him. Millie retreats into this room when he says that.
"I'm glad. I can't be there all of the time."
"But you're there enough. It's breaking the spell." He touches one of the gears. "Sometimes they speak to me. They tell me a story about a girl who took the local train every day, until it was too late. She eventually took an express...but the question I have now is, was it supposed to take her to Nereid Avenue or Dyre?"
Batman doesn't understand.
Neither does Millie.
With each choppy movement I make, I remember something important.
Just like clockwork, I smile.
I need you to wind me up, so that our story doesn't end yet.
On the surface level, the two and five trains run parallel to each other, exactly on time. The 1 and A go about their business happily. Today is a day for penguins and bubbles.
And a lonely train sits in the Eastchester terminal, waiting patiently for the clockwork room to catch up.
