This is my first short story. It's based on 7/7 where 3 trains and a bus were bombed in London more than 6 years ago, where I live. 52 people died and more than 750 people where injured, according to the BBC. Under the spoiler is an incredibly long note about why 7/7 is important to me. Feel free to shred it into pieces! I did my research on this, don't worry. The bomb really did give out a bright yellow light.
Enjoy,
Mac
Spoiler! :
A hand to hold
Ahmadblues
Ahmadblues
I remember the day it happened so well.
It was a summer’s day. A warm one, at that, although the sun’s rays were blocked by a thick blanket of cloud. I had arrived to London from New York, just the day before on a business trip. Normal.
But that day changed my life forever.
***
Eight forty in the morning. I was due to be at Canary Wharf station in an hour for an important meeting. Being foreign to London, I was lost. Naturally.
“Excuse me,” I said, while at King’s Cross, to a fellow commuter waiting on the busy platform. “Is this the way to Canary Wharf station?”
The commuter–a middle aged, balding man wearing a white shirt and a stripy tie–turned to me, the briefcase in his hand falling and expelling a dozen sheets of paper from itself. “Oh no! S-s-sorry.”
“No, no, it’s fine,” I said, helping him pick up his sheets.
“I-I–this way is the route t-to Canary Wharf, i-if you change at Green Park.”
It sounded like “Green Paaahk.” I was unsure if that was truly the name of the station or his accent. “G-Green Paaahk?”
“N-no, Park.”
“Park. As in–uh–a place with a playground?”
A busy train entered the station. It was absolutely packed in there–more like a cattle train than a commuter one.
“Yes.”
“Sorry, I’m from New York. Business trip.” He seemed to understand what I was trying to say. I didn’t want it to seem as if I was insulting his accent. “Is it normal for trains to be this busy?”
“This? T-t-this is nothing. I-it can get a lot worse.”
I nodded. Thank you.”
I looked around at all the commuters who were on the platform. Most were in formal clothing, apart from someone who looked approximately twenty, wearing a large, green backpack.
“MIND THE GAP.”
I jumped in shock, nearly losing my balance. High heels were not a good idea.
Another train rolled into the station. It was as busy as the last, but I would be late if I didn’t leave. The bright red doors
slid open as we squeezed ourselves into the train. There weren’t many people who managed to get on. In fact, only three in our carriage, the middle aged man, the one with the large backpack and I. The latter entered our carriage from the other side, pushing as far as he could, desperate to get on. I wondered why.
The doors closed, and the train began to move. It was crowded yet silent. The only noises to be heard were ‘excuse me’s, coughs and sneezes and the sound a mobile phone made when a text message was received.
The carriage was hot and sweaty. I could feel the cold beads of sweat lining my eyebrows. I desperately wanted to vacate the carriage. There would’ve been steam in there, if I didn’t open the windows. Not that there were any that I could open that I saw.
I pulled out a bottle of perfume and sprayed it on myself. At the same time, I saw the man with the large backpack gazing into my eyes. He looked away. He scared me in a way. Something...
Immediately, I felt frightened. It felt as if a hammer struck my heart, sending waves of fear into the other parts of my body.
“That–that person over there is scaring me a little,” I said, stooping down to speak to the middle aged man. He was rather short but on the contrary, I was rather tall.
“D-d-don’t worry,” he whispered back. “Y-You get a lot of s-strange people on the tube.”
I turned around to look on the other side, through the carriage window.
“The next station is Russ–”
Then it all seemed unreal, as I slowly fell into unconsciousness. Sucked into an empty void...
...a blinding flash of yellow light...
...shards of glass piercing my face...
...blown off my feet...
...suffocating under the mountain of people, crushing me...
...suffocating...
...drowning...
...dying...
Then everything faded to black.
***
“H-h-hello?”
My eyes flickered open.
“H-hello?”
My eyes were greeted by a dimly-lit face with dark, wide eyes, a slightly crooked nose and dark hair on the sides of his head. I felt dizzy... my head felt was spinning, but slowly managed to make sense of what I was seeing.
“Mm,” I groaned. My eyes wandered to the place where I was. It seemed like... like a tunnel. I tried to turn my head but it was hard. All I could see were lights. Fluorescent orange lights. Every few meters there seemed to be one, illuminating the glistening track.
“Come on. L-let’s get out of this place.”
I could feel two arms under my back, lifting me up. I could feel myself carried through what seemed like a sooty tunnel. My arms ran along the floor, feeling the coating of the floor–soft, thick, dusty.
Then I felt something cold, yet soft. I held onto it. It felt like a hand. I looked at it and I was right, it was a hand. Then I realised what it was. It was a limb. Ripped apart from its owner.
I screamed before I fell into the dark empty void again.
***
I woke up again, my eyes greeted this time by a sea of white. I squinted, the white light hurting my eyes. I glanced further down to see two people discussing something quietly over me. It seemed like... like a bed. Their voices were too quiet to hear.
The same person I met at the station.
I could barely move any of my limbs. I attempted to move my arm, but it hurt. A sharp pain pierced it.
Nevertheless, I stretched my arm and grasped the man’s fingers. It was nice to know that there was someone, however far away from home they were, would be there for you.
It was nice to know that there was a hand to hold.
7th July 2005
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