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Sean was the only one standing on the platform. He had no idea what time it was or where he was or how he had gotten there. In fact, he was pretty sure he was dreaming but it was one of those dreams that seem so real only he was beginning to think it really was.

The underground station was bare except for a few benches against the back wall which had a bit of graffiti on them. Sean didn’t pay attention to the wall, though. He just stared down the tracks which disappeared into a dark tunnel. Unlike most stations this one did not have a map of where the train went. It was apparently not that kind of train system.

Somewhere off to the right, down the tunnel came the rumbling of a single train and soon the light of the train came around the corner and into view. Sean stepped back from the edge of the platform as the train pulled up. There didn’t seem to be anyone in any of the cars. The sign above all the doors where the name of the line would normally be read: The Library. The doors opened but Sean did not get on. He stood looking up and down the platform – there was no one getting on and no one getting off.

“Are you getting or aren’t you?” said a gruff voice. Sean looked up at the front of the train where a man in a blue jumpsuit was leaning out of the first car. His beard made him look like he could be a mountain man. Sean wasn’t sure how to respond. He suddenly became very nervous and took a few steps away from the train. “Suit yourself,” the man said and ducked back into the car. All the doors slid closed and the train began to roll down the track and into the dark tunnel.

¤

Tonight Sean sat on one of the benches in the back of the station. On the part of the wall he was leaning on someone had had graffitied: Tea is duct tape for the soul. Next to that someone– possibly the same person – had done a picture of a tea cup filled to the brim with steaming tea. It almost looked real. When Seam had first walked over to inspect the wall it was because he was sure he had seen the steam moving. That was ridiculous, of course. Sean though that a tea cup and the accompanying words were odd things to the graffiti on the wall of a train station.
The sound of the train could soon be heard coming down the tunnel. Sean stood and began to walk toward the edge of the platform. He reached the train as it came to a complete stop and all the doors slid open. He walked along the train until he reached the first car. The man in the blue jumpsuit was leaning against the threshold. Sean peered into the car – it was empty , as were all the cars he had passed.

“Ya comin’?” the man said. Sean noticed he was wearing a name tag with read: Richard Corn.

“Where does this train go?” Sean asked. Richard reached a hand up and tapped on the sign above his head. “Right.” Sean hesitated for a moment then stepped into the car. The doors immediately closed behind him and the train lurched forward. Sean made his way to one of the empty seats and sat down. The interior of the car was mostly orange – orange carpeting was on the floor and orange padding on the seats. Because this was the front car there was a large wide at the front and a window seat. This is where Richard Corn sat reading a newspaper.

There weren’t any others around so he tried to find something else to occupy his time. He stared outside the front window. When the train came to a fork in the tunnel he’d try to guess which way the train would take. Nine of out ten times he was right but this only kept him entertained for a while.

“Are there any other stops on this line?” Sean asked finally.

“Sometimes,” Richard Corn said without looking up from his paper.

“How far is it to this library?”

“Oh, so suddenly you’re in a hurry?”

“I’m not even sure I’m supposed to be on this train.” Richard Corn peered over the paper, looked Sean up and down, then chuckled to himself.

“I can’t help you with that.”

“Why are you here?”

“Me?” Richard Corn pointed to himself, raising an eyebrow. “This is my job.”

“To sit on this train and read a newspaper?”

“It’s a bit more complicated than that,” Richard said irritably.

“Oh really?”

“Well, yes, it is. Do you know where you’re going?”

“To a library.”

“To the Library. You really don’t know, do you? This could take a while, this could.” Richard Corn folded his newspaper and set it down on the floor. “What’s your name, son?”

“Sean, sir. Sean Loy.”

“Don’t call me sir; call me Richard.”

“Okay, Richard.” Sean said.

“Tell me, Sean, what do you do in the world?”

“You mean like a job?”

“I don’t mean like a job; I mean an actual job.”

“I’m in college; I work at a restaurant down town.”

“What are you studying?”

Sean looked down at the floor. “I don’t have a major yet,” he said. “I have some things narrowed down, though…”

“AH-HA!” Richard said, “Now we’re in the thick of it!”

Sean looked around the car and the windows. “Are we yet?” he asked, starting to wish he hadn’t started talking to Richard.

“Not by a long shot, Mr. Loy,” Richard assured him, “This usually takes a while.”

¤

A few nights later Sean was back on the train the train only this time he got on at a different station. Whereas the other station had been abandoned except for him this station had four other people standing around. None of them looked at each other; in fact they all seemed to be avoiding eye contact all together. There was an old man sitting on one of the benches against the wall with a show box on his lap. Every once in a while he would open the box take out what appeared to be a picture, glance at it and then replace it.

Standing a few feet away from the old man was a girl no older than Sean. She had on jeans a fitted black t-shirt, a olive drab jacket and black flip-flops with a pick flower sitting atop each foot. She was reading a book and the look on her face was one of deep concentration. The girl was so focused on the book she didn’t seem to be aware of anyone else. At her feet sat a canvas messenger bag which was unzipped so that Sean could see at least three notebooks and another book inside.
Why would anyone to carry around need three notebooks? Sean thought.  And another book when they aren’t even close to being finished with the one they’re reading?

At that moment the girl looked from her book as if startled by something and looked directly at Sean. Sean quickly turned away, trying to pretend like he hadn’t been staring at her. He heard her zip up her bag and walk away. A few seconds later he could hear the sound of the train moving down the tracks. The old man got up from his bench and Sean followed him to the edge of the platform as the train rolled to a stop. Both the old man and the girl walked into the first car where Richard. The three of them seemed to know each other.

“That’s a new book, isn’t it, Bea?” Richard asked the girl.

“Yeah, but this one is short stories,” she said and plopped down on a seat and began to read. Sean could see the cover now. The title was Smoke and Mirrors and it was written by someone named Neil Gaiman. Sean had never heard of the author before.

“So, Sean,” Richard said, sitting next to him. “I see you’ve made some progress.”

“I have?” Seam began wonder what about him gave Richard this impression.

“Yes, I would say quite a bit of progress if you’ve made it this far. Have you picked a major?”

“Oh that!” Sean said, “I think I’ve decided on Parks, Recreation, and Tourism Management.”

“That’s a mouthful!” Richard chuckled. “What do you do with a degree in that?”

“I think I want to be a park ranger,” Sean told him. He hadn’t actually decided that but now that he was thinking out loud that didn’t seem like such a bad idea. He loved the outdoors and hiking and he actually knew a lot about botany and biology. He had always done well in those classes in high school. Even though the biology class he was taking in college was more intense than it had been in high school he also knew that he was the doing the best of anyone else in the class.

“I’m glad to hear it!” Richard said, slapping Sean on the back. “When you get to the Library ask my brother Albert if he has anymore newspapers.” Halfway through Richard’s sentence the train began to slow down.

“Are we there already?” Bea asked, looking up from her book. “That was fast.” She got up, slung her bag over her shoulder, and went to stand by the doors. The old man put the lid on his shoe box and waited for the train to stop before he got to his feet. The doors opened onto another station platform; the station sign read: The Library. There was someone already waiting by one of the concrete pillars. It was a little girl about ten years old and she waited until the old man had caught sight of her before walking over to him.

“Richard,” the old man said, “you’ve met my granddaughter Liza, haven’t you?” Richard knelt on one knee so he was eye level with the girl.

“I don’t think we’ve had the pleasure,” he said. “It’s very nice to meet you, Liza. Are you helping your grandfather with his album?”

“He tells me stories,” Liza said.

Sean walked on and followed Bea up the stairs; she seemed to know where she was going. At the top of the stairs, though, Sean hesitated. Before him was nothing but pitch black. It was so dark the space in front of him looked solid. Bea had stopped and was looking back at him.

“Are you coming?” She said.

“Is it safe?” Sean asked.

“No, there’s a monster that lives in there and it tries to eat anyone who goes through – that’s why this is the only way to go.” Bea said this in an overly cheery voice that was dripping with sarcasm. The she said, serious, “Of course it’s safe! Come on.” She turned away and walked the pitch black space. Sean took a deep breath and followed her. Soon he was enveloped in complete darkness.  The only way her could tell he was going in the right was that he could hear up ahead, though the sound seemed muffled but then suddenly he heard nothing. Sean stopped walking and stood perfectly still trying to strain his ears to hear Bea.

“Bea!” he yelled. His voice did not seem to be echoed but merely absorbed by the surrounding pitch black around him. “Bea, where are you? This isn’t funny!” He felt a hand take his pulling him forward. He was suddenly in a corridor lit by torches on the walls. The floor was made of cobblestone and every noise seemed to gently bounce off the stone work. It was a major change from where he had just been. Bea let go of his arm and Sean could she had an exasperated look on her face.

“Where did you go?” He demanded.

“I was waiting for you, stupid. Why’d ya stop walking? Two more feet you would have been in the hall.”

“I couldn’t hear you anymore.”

“That’s because I was waiting for you. Come on.” Bea turned and walked down the corridor and Sean followed her.

“What is this library place, anyway?” Sean asked.

“It’s a place to think,” Bea said, “It’s hard to describe, actually. Haven’t you been there before?”

“Not that I can remember,” Sean admitted.

“You probably have and just don’t remember. Don’t worry. Agatha will get you sorted out.” Before he could ask who Agatha was he realized that they were walking toward a desk. The man behind looked extremely familiar. He looked exactly like Richard only without a beard and he was wearing an oddly made brown suit. A name plate sat on the desk and the name on it read: Albert Corn.  Sean remembered Richard saying something about asking his brother for more newspapers; this must be him.

“Hello, Albert!” Bea said brightly. She stopped by the desk and opened her bag. “I finished the other book.” She handed Albert the other book that had been in her bag. “I think you’ll like this one. He’s a brilliant writer.”

“So are you, Beatrice,” Albert said. Bea blushed slightly. “Who’s your friend?”
“This is Sean Loy,” Bea said.

“Oh yes,” Albert said knowingly, “I remember you, although you appear to have forgotten me. Beatrice here will take you to Agatha.” Bea and Sean began walking toward the end of the corridor where two double doors marked the entrance to the library but then Sean remembered something and turned back toward Albert.

“Oh, sir,” he began.

“Don’t call me sir; call me Albert,” said Albert.

“Okay, Albert.”

“Now what can I do for you?”

“Your brother wanted me to ask you about some newspapers.”

“Did he now? Well, thank you, Sean, for passing the message along.”

Sean turned back and hurried after Bea, who holding one of the double doors open.

¤

Richard sat reading the paper and Bea was a few seats over reading a new book. She appeared to be completely engrossed in the book, as if oblivious to everything around her but Sean now knew that this was not so. Bea somehow managed to be able to pay attention to the book and everything that was going on around her. Several times before while Sean had been talking to Richard Bea would pipe up with a sarcastic comment or a bit of insight that she could only have come up with is she had been paying attention. Only a few moments before her bag was starting to slip off the seat after the train had made a turn in the tracks and her hand had shot out to stop it from falling without her eyes ever stopping moving across the page she was reading.

Sean had learned that both preferred to read during the ride to library. He had once asked Bea what the book she was reading was about. She simply took the jacket off the book and handed it to him. He got the message. He had read the jacket and handed it back to her. From that point on he didn’t bother either of them.

The old man, Henry Foster, was very quiet. He was more predictable than Richard and Bea when it came to his train ride ritual. Henry always had a shoebox with him which he clutched as it held a second chance. He would sit in his seat going through each picture studying them as if trying to decipher a secret message or perhaps one he had forgotten. Sean never bothered Henry never bothered with questions about his photographs.

With everyone but Sean having their own things to do on the train Sean’s rides were pretty boring. Sometimes he would read one of the newspapers that Richard had finished with it. The newspaper was The Dream Journal and it didn’t contain actual news or at least not normal news. Every story seemed to be about people who visited the library, which was strange because Sean had ever seen a reporter interview anyone at the Library before. It’s horoscope section was pretty normal except it also included the Chinese, Norse, and Celtic zodiacs. The comics seemed to be ones that people at the Library had drawn.

The only thing about the paper that appeared to be normal – whatever normal was – were the obituaries. This section of the newspaper took up its own full section and contained hundreds of names. Each person had a picture and a very brief description of why they had been at the Library, whether or not that had gotten what they came for and when they died. Each one seemed to be written by someone who knew each person very well although the writer was never revealed.

The section that really interested Sean the most, however, was the classifieds. It was like any other classified section: either someone was looking for something they’d lost or needed – more like lost than not – someone was trying to get rid of something. What was unusual about it were the items being advertised. A few of the classifieds read:

INSPIRATION
no charge
inquire within

WISDOM
Not easily given away
To a good home

COOKIES & TEA
Freshly baked
In Library

Sean leafed through the rest of the paper and then set it down on the seat beside him. He looked around at the rest the car. Richard rustled his paper; Bea turned a page in her book; Henry sat staring blankly at the opposite wall. The train began to slow down which brought all three out of their trances. Bea put away her book and Henry closed his shoebox. The train stopped, the three passengers stood and exited. Sean noticed the same girl that had been waiting for Henry earlier.

“Don’t stare,” Bea said, pulling Sean past Henry and Liza.

“Sorry,” Sean said, “I was just wondering about Liz.” Bea stopped walking and turned around.

“What about her?” The look on her face seemed to know what he was about to say.

“There’s just something about that isn’t quite –“

“Real?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t think she is,” Bea told him. The two of them had stopped halfway up the stairs and despite Bea’s warning earlier about not staring they both glanced over at Liza and Henry. “I heard Agatha and Albert saying something about it. Something about her having died when she was young. After that she started to turn up, waiting for Henry at the Station.”

“Weird.”

“You’re telling me.”